Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Serena Aug 2018
I don't want any of these people
And I don't want their cheap thrills
Their need for a love that only lasts til dawn
Lies shield their hearts
And inhibition disallows anyone to see their true selves
The selves they hate and abuse

I have waited for you since our last lifetime
And I'm so tired of waiting
Every night I go out to meet people
My heart sinks with the absence of you
And I sink with depression into emotions I need to forget

I have bought their cheap thrills
And I remain unsatisfied with the results
I lost strength as the liquor stupefied me
And pulled me to a person to whom only saw a short term pleasure


I don't want to settle or second guess
I want you
I want to meet you
I want to know you
And to love you
I want to experience with you
And reminisce with you
And I want to die with you and wait all over again
multi sumus Aug 2018
It has been said that a relationship is give and take
   The truth of the matter is
That it is give and give.

i will serve You with Loyalty and Devotion
      If only You master with Appreciation and Respect.

i will protect You with Fortitude and Persistance
      If only You rely on me with Trust and Faith.

i will provide Your every need with Patience and Humility
      If only You desire with Compassion and Forgiveness...

            And i will Love You
Fervently with Integrity and without Inhibition

       If only You do the same
I thought it right to assess some antidepressants, which philosophers should be more inclined to call mood enhancers.
(This was during my foray into human enhancement, substances intended to enhance physicality, cognition or mood. Nootropic compounds concern the latter two categories.)

The most commonly prescribed mood enhancers are serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SRIs), but it takes over a week for these compounds reach their peak effect. I therefore approached them with the notion that a limited dosage might point to their character which would further manifest in the long-term. (Side-effect were this unlikely to be fully manifest.) These considerations in mind, I set about acquiring a few miscellaneous anti-D's.

Fluoxetine was the first successful selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor (SSRI), better known by its original brand-name Prozac. Fluoxetine has an acute biological half-life of between 1-3 days. Presence of a trifluoromethyl group on the compound deserves note, I wonder what the presence of electronegative fluorine atoms add to the psychoactive flavour of a compound (subjective effects).
I administered a single dose by mouth, there was some indication of subjective character. Light serotonergic sensations and seemingly benign mood-dampening, there is a ****** towards the positive. Waking headspace relatively uninteresting. Observed hints of oneirogenesis, did not manifest in enough character to be detailed - a sort of vivid, 'pulsive wandering, more pronounced in contrast to its waking character.
Good experiment, intresting results.
Ligand     Ki (nM)   Ki (nM)
Target      Flx            Nflx
SERT        1               19
NET         660           2700
DAT         4180         420
5-HT2A   200           300
5-HT2B    5000         5100
5-HT2C    72.6          91.2
α1             3000         3900
M1            870           1200
M2            2700         4600
M3            1000         760
M4            2900         2600
M5            2700         2200
H1            3250         10000

Escitalopram is an SSRI commonly prescribed for major depression and generalised anxiety. It is the (S)-stereoisomer of citalopram. The biological half-life is of escitalopram is between 27-32 hours.
I administered a dose and thought the phenomenal serotonergicity less apparent than fluoxetine but then gastro-intestinal disturbance was noted, I correctly surmised it has a high affinity for 5-HT2C but was also surprised to find it is is quite adrenergic.
Any oneiric qualities were not readily apparent after a single dose, relatively little visual imagery which is understandable given its lack of affinity for 5-HT2A. I found this to be philosophically intresting. Mood elevation observed in bursts of conversation and as odd sensations, possible mental discomfort.
Ligand,
Recptr     Ki (nM)
SERT       2.5
NET        6,514
5-HT2C   2,531
α1            3,870
M1           1,242
H1           1,973

Venlafaxine is a selective serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor (SNRI). Venlafaxine and its metabolites are active for about 11 hours.
Initial subjective effects similar to a very light empathogenic stimulant. Perception of altered attention-span/increased reflexive response; energising yet paradoxically much yawning.
Ligand,  Vnfx      Dvnfx
Recptr    Ki(nM)  Ki(nM)
SERT  ­    82           40.2
NET       2480        558.4

Tianeptine is a tricyclic antidepressant (TCA) with an unusual mechanism of action. It is an atypical agonist of the μ-opioid receptor and has been described as a (selective) serotonin reuptake enhancer (SRE). It has a short duration as sodium salts [prescribed form] of between 2-4 hours but as sulfate this can be notably extended, some of its metabolites are active for longer than tianeptine itself.
Definitely anxiolytic, quite artificial; possible aphrodisiac. I find its opioid activity dissuading, requires utmost caution.

Moclobemide is a reversible inhibitor of monoamine oxidase A (RIMA), its monoamine oxidase inhibition lasts about 8–10 hours and wears off completely by 24 hours. Inhibiting the decomposition of monoamines (e.g. serotonin, norepinephrine and dopamine) increases their accumulation at an extracellular level. It tends to suppress REM sleep and so it lacks oneirogenic properties.
Feeling of well-being, less constrained by the usual anxieties; openness. Relatively unnoticeable side-effects when diet is carefully managed. Made the mistake of eating a cheese and turkey sandwich (i.e. foodstuff rich in tryptophan), indications of a mild serotonin syndrome later became apparent. Symptoms included feelings of overheating and flushing, slight sweating, racing thoughts and anxious discomfort. A stark reminder of Shulgin's old adage: "there is no casual experiment".
Combination with a select few tryptamines (not 5-MeO-xxT) should be safe, and synergistic (perfect for pharmahuasca); reputed to potentiate GHB. However, generally it is extremely dangerous to combine with serotonergic drugs.
Marya123 Nov 2018
Find what shakes your spirit alive
Own it, because it makes you thrive
Leave inhibition in the past
Learn to work so you have a blast
Operate in your comfort zone
Widen it as your skills are honed.

You have the power, don't ever fret
Over results that you can't see yet.
Use your mind, fire your intuition
Rejoice when they yield solutions.

Don't compare your life with your friends'
Reap what you sow until the end.
Earn gratefully your daily bread
Aim high- don't you cower in dread.
Meet your goals, have faith and believe
'Success will come, you will achieve.'
My first acrostic!
i am a poet and still
i can’t comprehend these symbols
these missing heartbeats
and hours spent counting thimbles
i am perplexed by love
shall we seek herbs and remedies
lose ourselves in cures and compounds
must our inner territories be colonized
while we remain captivated by inconvenient theories
struck down by doubt and insecurity
the mind wields no ammunition
and yet its cavalry has desecrated the land
without the slightest sign of inhibition
or a trace of empathy, justice or compassion
will we make a new peace treaty
will the blessed earth be forgiven
and can the sweet essence of her children
comprehend the innocence of spring
oh how our hearts yearn for dancing
still you spend your dollars and your pennies
but give your emptiness to the king
i eat oats and honey cooked upon the fire
while you distill golden nectar from the garden of desire
in the ancient inside-out alembic of your will
and imbibe spagyric liquid that eradicates all pride
and confers wisdom, truth, beauty and longevity
upon the already immortal nature of your mind
Caitlin Mar 1
Stepping back and looking in
You’ll find a mess that somewhere began
With a seed of doubt
In a sea of despair
A need to try
And inability to thrive
With a lack of inhibition
In a confine of anxiety
You’ll find yourself lost
In a place where emotions run unsteady
Where contradictions are truths
And truths are just lies
Lies you tell yourself
So you can believe your self destruction
Is poetic or justified
Your memories dance around your delusions
Fading past into present
Everything’s distant
You grab at what you can
As it slips from your hands
You can’t believe that anything is real
Or you simply won’t.
Jordan Hudson Nov 2018
I have story
About one day
I have a story I wish I didn't have to tell
I ended up rolling off of a hill
Almost into a propane tank
I slammed on the brakes
The car didn't stop
I steered away
Tried to put it in park
Rolled into a field
Luckily no marks
As if the car had a shield
The ****** clicked
That made me predict
My car would be stuck
I tried the ignition
And the sound struck
Went away the inhibition
I had no worries from there
I could finally breathe the air
And my heart went back
The car was fine with no *****
I could drive away
Just like normal
But that still ruined my day
And that was not formal
I can move on from all of that
Drive away like nothing happened
But you can see where the tire marks are at
Yeah, the marks are visible and
It still affected me and ants habitat
But it's all good
My car is alive
I almost crashed into a propane tank...
Lash Dec 2018
my ambition
combined with intuition;
you existing
thrives on my existence.
my drive and my persistence
derived from inhibition.
yet when i speak,
you never listen.
-
too independent,
too intelligent,
too much,
you run scared.
make you aware,
you see irrelevance in
what you once feared.
your ego is my step-child.
push me away,
projectile.
you run and hide.
you run from truth.
you won’t confide,
detached your roots.
...
Ace Loren Nov 2018
the space between excitation and inhibition
there I am
on the cusp of completely letting go
breaching the unknown
Kelsey Feb 18
What happened to the days
When I could be
Unapologetically me
Liquid confidence and *******
Not afraid
Of anybody’s judgements
Numbing the pain
And now I’m sober and
I’m stuck with just myself
Can’t break free from the discomfort
Of being trapped in my own skin
Insecurities and inhibition
Flowing through me like
A toxic injection
But I’m healthy and
My ****’s in line
Why can’t I give
Credit where it’s deserved
Instead I focus on the
Road that lies ahead
Rather than
How far I’ve trudged
Uncertainty trembles with
Every word
So ******* awkward
And everyone heard
Obsess about it for
Hours on end
As if this cycle of thought
Can somehow change
The way things happened
I tell myself
That nothing could be worse
Than being *****
To a substance
But something’s gotta change
Someone, somewhere
Teach me how to be sane
Or I’ll pick up that shovel
And start digging again
In the most perfect world
I'd never wear clothes
Let my **** sway in the breeze
And my ******* swing low
I'd lay **** in the grass
Sprawled out 'neath the trees
Get some sun on my ***
Drink honey from bees

In the most perfect place
I'd say what I want
I'd curse all the time
Even bad words like ****
With no care to offend
****, i'd do it for kicks
And mock all the clothed folks
That stare at my ****

In the most perfect land
I'd eat lots of meat
Like bacon wrapped butter
With pickled pigs feet
Yes, all kinds of swine!
With sauce on a bun
And since I couldn't get fat
**** taking a run

In the most perfect life
I'd live off the land
Make love to my wife(s)
Way more than my hand
I'd fish all day long
And drink bourbon till ten
Have another romp with my wife(s), and probably go fish again  

In the most perfect spot
I'd lose all inhibition
**** waiting to die
This dude'd never stop livin
I'd dance in the streets
And howl at the moon
Tape sharks to my feets
And surf a monsoon

Yep, in the most perfect place
I'd be free to be me
Never put on a nice act
For lame people I see
I'd break from the chains
And cut lose the ropes
Release the wild man-beast
From this poem i wrote
And yet another literary catasrophe from my twisted mind. Just felt like letting lose for once. Feels good. :)
JS CARIE Jul 2018
Amid the morning traversal
Isolated movement in peripheral optics
Flashing visions caught my attention
and passed so fast, then behind my back
This contrast casts playful blasts
Wondrous attacks upon question
But the sights ****** with me,
in a scarring way
like cutting into me
these incisions intent
Almost as if she's demanding me to prefigure
to anticipate her resolve in steps ready
Trap and trace her shadowy inhibition
An illusory female in swift glided mission
She wouldn't be paying me attention
If she didn't want me to see her
in an apparitions condition
Back and forth between ups and downs
Omission transmits imagination,
on repeat
As she comes and goes
Appears and disappears
In a childlike hide and seek
Transition to remission
My jaunting disposition was put to shame
While trying to chase and catch
This, her silhouetted composition
All the silent while
I cursed blame on my beloved,
for coming so close to smell her
but not letting me hold her
But in real time
She kept reclusive
in a remote wood...
So many days without
I would long and ache
While her abilities are endlessly innate
As determination continues to persevere
She is alive, just away
out there
This figure I imagine is only that
My need to see her presence is a desperate one
Creating her graceful body in modes of bliss
Any way shape or form these divine bits
Her transparency I am offered
Only it's the tangible I am wanting
Her actual body and hair and hillside profile
My style is my struggle
As is this continual desire
how much of a fatigued
    i
                  am i?
not being
instructed,
         instigated by,
not,
                   influenced by,
perhaps i drink
too little,
  perhaps i drink too much,...
perhaps i never learned
to be the *******...
perhaps i've met one psychopath
too many...
  perhaps all of these...
          perhaps i was unabashed
when citing
liking pop music...
     perhaps i just forgot
about being a ****...
  perhaps signing up
to high-school memory
extremes...
                       as shaping my life
of, what would certainly become:
a case of low-self-esteem...
go to a catholic high-school,
learn to don a uniform,
yes, no, no, yes?
           1990s pop-culture...
that's about me as: done...
  tiresome morality
of the lost lacklustre
                 of the demanding
frame of ****-joy activism...
perhaps i addressed all
the questions...
perhaps i felt *******
citing a further mea culpa...
perhaps the mental
lacerations to no end,
solved themselves....
      perhaps i solved
all the "curiosities"...
and had the surfacing groundwork
for: a lost inhibition...
perhaps all of opera
was all about
    crowded house:
weather with you...
rather than toto: africa...
i certainly drink too much,
but considering
the "sanity" of the sane majority?
no... no... no i'm not exactly
bound to finding conviction...
i drink too much,
but then:
the "sane" drink too little,
or rather, drink,
for all the wrong reaons...
why do they alway have
games to play-along with
when a bottle of whiskey
is being drank?

       losers.

happy now?
    so now you know what
it feels like...

   LOSERS... inventing
drinking games!
LOSERS!
   my guess, twice better:
****-wits.

        sober people are
too much, too little...
there's a part of me that should care,
right?
oh, there is?
i sometimes tend to
forget, and forget myself,
and myself myself
allow a spontaneity of
amnesia...
for the per se reasons...
  sober, serious people...

there is nothing sober,
or serious,
about your standards
of counter deviations...

                sure...
why wouldn't i be left
suspect...
   when it comes to making language
into some deviant utility...
as long as average Joe...
or Smithy O'Clara
will doll-up their purpose...
but it's fine if they
are allowed the "clarification"
of the platform...
and only "they" are allowed it...

****** Joe comes in shy...
and...
well...
                  as long as what
is governing restrictions...
i somehow missed the whole
thumbs down
"debacle"...
     maybe i was just polite
in the d.m. medium...
maybe i was being
hardly the attention-***** ****...

maybe what i settled
against a blank canvas...
i would never envision...
concerning the canvas
of another human being?
maybe i forgot to be
something,
that other people
became reminded of me,
in expectation of: being -
their "clarifying" suitor
of exacting blame?
D Feb 13
Ego
I am god
G
O
D
No,
Crazy I am not
I’m Divine
I’m Endless
I’m Omnipresent
I’m Omniscient
Third eye
No, fourth
Look into my eyes
Die, mortal
G-O-D
*****, get on your knees
******* away
G-O-D
Dear fledgling creation
Just like that
No, like that
It’s not my caveman grunts
That give away
How much that felt
Like a slice of heaven

I wish you could know
How this steady narcissism boils in my blood
It leaves me ready to take each moment
As the new center of the universe
It’s liberating, and you’ll never quite get
How I got here
But in the end, it's all about these moments
Where the flesh brings me to the present
As the back of my head spirals with the stars
But I’m deep below my conscious
Ready to mutter meaning into this meaningless space
Between cells and fragments of unpleasant thought

If only you could understand
But I’m more than flesh
G-O-D
Strike me down
Thou shalt obey
Just a bit deeper, babe
That’s all I ask
Shh….
It only hurts for a moment
Or so the TV models say
But you,
You’re made of heartier steel
Just like that
No, that
I can’t get enough
G-O-D
Not ego
Don’t talk back
In the master’s home
It’s not enough
To satiate me
Just like that
A little deeper
I can’t get enough
G-O-D
******* away

I’m chasing pleasure in gaslight
Shining on me through the window and thin curtains
The moon watches while the core shivers
I’m eyeballs deep in this drifting set of thoughts
As I force myself to move
Chasing something so momentary before I collapse
Lack of sleep is one **** of a drug
So is caffeine
And the memories of toxicity that ring in my head
She built me up
And tossed me aside
I deserved it, but now I’m back
To being the hot-blooded sun
Waiting to ignite the world

I can’t get enough
When intoxication
Leads to indoctrination
Killing inhibition
G-O-D
Shut up, priest
Go **** an altar boy
You sick creep
I won’t open the door to you
But babe, keep going
Don’t leave the sheets
G-O-D
Don’t leave me
Please
I need it
Just like that
Just like that
It’s more than love
It’s ****
Babe, let’s start over
Before hangover
I’m god
So try not to disappoint
Keep going
Just like that
Yeah babe, just like that

I can’t stop wearing this facade
Not when it’s all just began
This is a time for rain
The type that lets my rot and grime flourish
At least for a time
But now, its sleep
Washing over me and a perfect stranger
Waiting for her to forget me in the next week
Just the way I like it
It’s no fun when everyone knows
That you’ve been the core this entire time
And you want nothing more
Than distance from what makes you, you
when you're hungry,
you only end up thinking about food;

sure... you can glug down
the whiskey,
but the whiskey soon
becomes akin to milk...

  and the problems of
other people, made real,
in some quasi-take
on reality,
of voices, that once were
voices, that now become
echoes...

blood sugar level...
low...
               i write with
a fainting to curate my
body into the next half an hour...

the cat is still asleep on
the bed...
         i remain hunched
on a chair...
     you know how annoying
it is,
to watch these youtube
videos,
with a squint:
one eye closed,
the other peering
        into a void of gob?

i keep and tract
myself to a concession of a nod...
yes, i agree...
   i just can't fathom
fighting
   the fight of the english,
when, i am,
myself, not english...

   a land a lore and all
for the glorious succumb
of the exodus...

             in my mind,
at least...

                   i'm not english...
i never was, i never will be...
but seeing these people
bombarded with the journalist
jargon that cannot replace
itself from
the humble beginning
as depicted by
all the president's men...

             sure... i'm the pauper...
and you, you're the skyve?
given a pension aged
49... old...
                      so...
      so!                  was­ is't arbeit?!

all art is but
a scrutiny of any and all
recreational activity to bypass
made, more accommodating,
via...
  the consolation prize of
being....   funded...

       me? i failed...
but nice to see to having failed
on a canvas of
8 billion people...
          
                     such a lurking
inhibition of comfort,
to be made an association with...
the 10pm newsreel
           of an ambitious speaker /
reader of the news.

i imagine the 30 minutes
involved between
choosing
to either turn the t.v. ON
or the t.v. OFF...

after a while...
i lose the ability to choose.

right...
so there's no loße...
           to have made a choice...
to choose...
     but to have chosen...
a choice...
      ******* riddling loss
                  of an omicron...
sure, sure...
   mr. ******* john wayne...
so there's no loss:
there would be none
if there was no
   centimetre measure
of a difference between
loße and loose!

loose: not to loße...
  loss...
           *******
     spaghetti myopia
of the spelling...
       lot...
            past-participle...

me: equivalent to
gene hackman
in enemy of the state...
i get to enjoy being
panicky-picky
with my words...
when i'm writing while fasting...
and there's
a ******* cat sleeping in my
bed, just prior to my wanting
to drink myself
into a lullaby of a metaphorical
boxing-match K.O....
alright?

      the more i fast,
the more of a quran spews out
of me for
any worth of pedantry...
     it's like an itch...
in the gut...
  juggling a vacuum
of something waiting
to be reiterated back
into a function of sorts...

you want to die,
but then you are told to live...
you want to live,
but then you unexpectedly die...
******* took a ****
good care of the "proverb"
of: life's a *****, and then you die...

what sort of proverb is that?!
that's only an excuse for,
rather than of a proverb...
******* Shakespearean
sentimentalists...
      grapheme tackle of
the spelling of the siamese vowels?

me, gene hackman grumpy...
listening to some ed sheeran...
****'s sake!
        the lot
of very little sugar,
writing while ingesting
the Switzerland of
the body's worth of fat...
          ******* annoying.
.the new contraception, via the current spectacle of technological advancements... it's not here? this, new, contraception? existential, which implies: not fostered by an inhibition of the senses, but by the slowing down of will? me, ha ha, again, talking out of my own ***: because there was always going to be a fifth... came the four on horses, and a fifth, akin to the parallels of comparison joining jesus to balaam, riding... a... ha ha... riding a ******* donkey.

having to attack
grammar...

    what sort of
    deconstruction
is to be still
                  implied?

low hanging fruit
for my liking,
        because...
         i get the layer
of myth
          that
subordinates people...

listen: i was
happy working as a roofer,
until one Egyptian fwend
"thought":
well, ****, roofs aren't
necessary...

i once, upon a time,
cared;
now?
   i'm free-falling...
Diogenes
was always going
to free-fall...
but in english
society...
that's just Norman...
a
brain haemorrhage
aged 21...
  that's just Norman,
it's Norman
every single
month of the year...

   cover-up...
Norman,
it's all just one
get-lucky big-*******
Norman...

a little bit of Norman
'ere,
   a little bit of Norman
over d'err...
Norman is Norman,
and...
we pretend to be
courteous to each other
in...
from what i heard?
alcoholics anonymous
seems pretty friendly...
anonymity
anonymous
of the internet?
   oh, look...
          ballet
on egg-shells
with only cats
in the audience...
            ninja kaput...

but it's not funny
when, cancer...
   but it's not funny
when...
          heart attack...
it's funny when
a brain haemorrhage
is made unnecessarily
into schizophrenia...
that's funny...

      oh look...
grammar is being attacked...
funny...
     native identities
are being sacked...
funny...
      a little bit of funny
'ere,
   a little but of funny
over d'ere...
funny funny funny...
it's so ******* funny
these days,
that...
   i just forget to laugh...

honest to god,
it rattled me,
when i didn't hear
any canned laughter
in a comedy sketch
akin to the office...
i started thinking:
where're the lazy bits?

but it's funny,
you're funny,
i'm funny,
  everything is just,
  funny...
revision:
  please tell me
at what point i'm
supposed to laugh?
there's any laughter
involved, universally,
or is it,
that the joke,
is an in-group
               point
of opening, & closure?

when a comedian
performs on stage,
there is no cue?
        so, that laughter is genuine,
it's not canned?
wow!

               wow!
well... if everything in
the anglophone world standard
is, the standard base
for expression...
let's all laugh!

oh... right...
some people are not allowed
to laugh...
  they have to squirm,
or pretend a pigeon flight...

never in niche,
always in a zombie total...
what do they call
a zombie total? ah... horde...
thingy-mig-jig...
  
but it's all funny...
like... reading the oeuvre
of alexandre dumas...
and then...
keeping up with
   the tabloid reading
public...
  like that wasn't
a recipe for disaster...

but's it's, funny...
   it's all just a bit
of the giggles...
  kuru / pseudobulbar affect...
well...
for a people to experience
cannibalism,
look no further than:
this is my body,
this is my blood...
          like...
       metaphor became literal...
but in all the "funny"
so people are bound
to be found to laugh...
literally...
  it's funny,
but it's funny with venom,
it's
   ridicule,
the lowest form of wit...
it's schadenfreude...

     it really becomes funny
when brain haemorrhage
morphs, magically,
like... having touched
a mushroom, or a unicorn...
into schizophrenia...
oh, then the giggles are on...

and the same dumb IQ specimen
says:
you know...
   samuel beckett's watt
is... base...
   nope, beats anything
                    by joyce...
   but that's also not funny...

going to the opera?
that's also funny...
not going to the opera?
that's ******* twice as funny...
it's always funny
    with the Ęgleash...

it's only funny,
when the,
  Germans were never funny...
thank god i'm not
even remotely alligned
to anglo-saxon...

    it's always funny though...
ethics is not sought
and etiquette is
      limping...
  hence: but it's still funny!

the mob authoritarian
mentality of:
you need to laugh!
we say:
  YOU NEED TO LAUGH!
so... we're laughing...
as said by the people,
for the people...

    i was told i needed
to laugh...
  by the trolls...
so...
         i guess i laughed.

p.s.
   that time when
people said:
ooh, feelings...
  we don't care
what you feel...
right...
  which implies:
and i have to care
what you think?

         what?!
i've been told to laugh
at something
that i found
to be, not funny...

  how could anyone
tell anyone else,
to prescribe him
funny?

then reducing it to
an i.q. argument?
  funny ha ha or
funny: i'll think about it
and ha ha with
a delay button?

but you see...
            it's funny!

you want funny?
you know
what i ascribe my personal
library to?
that quote
from batman (1989),
that scene...
  when the joker
is rising from
  the chair in
an alleyway surgeon's
office...
   'but you see,
what crude instruments
i have to work with...'
  
   it's not bombastic
to drop a name of some
german philosopher:

oh... but it is,
it's reduced to verbiage,
word-salad,
as long as Darwin
is pop and in play...

so... it's all... funny...
hey,
i'm not anglo-saxon...
let's preserve ourselves
in peering into
current culture...

it's funny!
   we'll all be a throng
of rolling barrels,
of laughs,
coming from this
'ill-top!
MAN Nov 2018
Let my words caress your body,
open your mind and let them slide in.
Let them tickle your thoughts,
take your mind to the brink of sin.
Let my words wrap you in warmth,
release all your insecurities within.
Let them kiss memories of the past,
take you to cherished places you’ve been.
Let my words over power your inhibition,
succumb to their devise.
Let them nibble at your ears,
run wet lips inward on your thighs.
Let my words cuddle you tight,
safely in their grasp, limp you lie.
Let them inseminate passion into your life,
show you a love no other can quantify.
taylor kathleen Jul 2018
she used to see things
with a touch of innocence
and a glimmer of good
ideas misunderstood
her heart just wanted
to invite a different form
a craving which
consumed her core
inhibition of reality
disorienting the young spirit
from her well acquainted world
elements of deception
took control of the broken girl
a new shift of life
take away the sugar
replace with the spice
I am done
With captivity.
I am here to set you free.
No ammunition,
No inhibition
Just two hands,
A heart,
And steady legs
Weathered by the sea
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
. i'm not an alcoholic, i'm an intermediating construct of blues... i think more about blank canvas i am to fill, than the next drink 'm about to have....

why give a dog's *******'s care
concerning yourself with
whst other other,
proper, "sober", sensible people
make of your?

  i guess an inhibition of
a lost verse...

       in poetry we call that a quais
take on a paragraph...

   something akin to:
the same worth of the worth of
something worth losing...
get the drift?!

  Clive Owen...
Denzel Washington,
Brian Molko...

now?
breed me, a ******* hybrid Q
your nag hammadi perfectionism!
you trans-gender
eucharist!

   breed me an example
to my specification!
breed it!
show me the Frankenstein!
breed it!

       i want wolf ***** "ingested"
in women subjects!
i, WANT, THEM!
               you want the Frankenstein
monster?
first you need the mad doctor...
you have me...
cuffed and teasing!

     i am,. dying to waake from
what is death, and what is death assured,
in the fork form of, shadow...

   you, want, the monster...
i am giving your the antithesis
of the nameless
caricature of
what man's capability!

            i need it, whatever "it", is...
       i will not sleep till this "thing"
is awake in the ****
of my cognition...
and i know of its wake!

                 it's funeral a birth,
it's birth,
banshee screech!
                 the failed Polish
winged hussar charge against
the Ukranian Cossack upriing,
thick, in, mud...

                        i have the desires
to damage marking
banknotes...
      Shelley will always outlast
the credibility of Austen...

    Mary contra Jane...

       horror...
Frankenstein monsters...
vampires...
     werewolves...
she's the third of the canon!

  you don't do that!
you can't do that!
                but you did, do that!

there is a shadow of man,
he dares to call history
to contra the visage for the excuses
of journalism...

     not here... not now...

  as a young boy,
i dreamed of mingling the ***** of
wolves, being impregnated
in human females...
        i guess, as a treat...
to alleviate
the existing product
                 of down syndrome'

what?
what is science?
if not the reinvigorated
perpetuation of
trans-categorical inquiry?

p.s. when i drink?
the last "thing" on my mind
is the activity of drinking,
notably, for socially unhinged
barriers to be broken...
i'm an anti-social drinker...
i hate conversation,
esp. when drinking...
a ******* desert,
when it comes to
             the calorie intake!

— The End —