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JB Feb 11
In an attempt to scratch the itch under my skin
caused by a hundred breathing irritants
I take a blade and when they ask

Oh this? It's just a scratch

In order to filter the thoughts in my head
I crack it open with a can opener

In trying to find the answer
And filter this poisoned blood

I poisoned my self with terminal self destruction

In an attempt to filter the blood contaminated with wrongful thoughts
I bleed from my irritated layers
As if the air will give a transfusion to heal this ****** up life
zumee Dec 2018
For a captivating 2nd
the heart thought a thought
the mind couldn't think
Soul Scribe Sep 2018
Our hands
fit together like puzzle pieces.
Like a little kid playing in the grass.
In the moment it is pure bliss,
But when it's over, your hand
Starts to tingle as it misses
The excitement, and is left
With a subtle, but noticeable
We long for our loved one like a child longs to play in the field
ryn Jan 2015
\       |       /

\               •think my               /
pen's almost dry•it's get-
ting oh so hard•ideas seem to just
\   fly on by•i'm unable to deal any more   /
cards•bottom of the barrel•i seem to be
scraping•trapped in a long, dark tunnel•
coherence eluding...the words that need
inking•i need a simple little trick...•to
soothe this perpetual itch•need my
/        bulb come on really quick•hope-        \
fully as soon as I flick on
/               the...switch•               \
|   ooooooooooo   |
ryn Jan 2015

some.pi eces.and
.an.item.   were.lost
•somet       hing.for.
which.m       y.heart.h      •somethi
cost•wo        nder.if.e
ver.I.may    .find•wo

A tad disproportionate and rough but you get the picture (pun intended).
Alaina Feb 13
my ankle was dried out from
the blazing summer sun
from the time at the beach with you.

it was the best day
but it turned so dark
so ******* quick

we were sat in my car
the windows down, breeze
flowing through the air

and i handed you a dollar
to pay for my coffee
but you declined my offer.

so i put it in your shirt pocket
and you made a joke about strippers
and i made a joke about strippers

you didn’t find my joke funny
you never did

your face turned as hot and red
as the sunburn on my ankle
that now felt itchy

you questioned me
interrogated me
for something i did before i knew you

and you left me by myself
threw the dollar at me
and walked away as my tears start to fall

they don’t affect you though
they never really did
so i run out of the car

but you’re already buckled into yours
and slowly pulling away
telling me out the window

“don’t talk to me right now. you disgust me”

i have never felt so hollow in my life
like i could fall over and
shatter into a million pieces

i walk inside my house.
“how was your day sweetie?”
i respond how i always do
“it was amazing. i’ll tell you later.”

my ankle is itchy
i sit on my bed
and i scratch

and scratch

and scratch.

it hurts more than it itches now
but i continue to scratch.

my nail finds a permanent groove

it continues to scratch.

it hurts now. it’s bleeding.

but i am telling myself

that i deserve this for what i’ve done.
i am disgusting. how could i have done that. i’m a horrible girlfriend.

i look down and see red
it’s all over my fingers
underneath my nails.

i feel

the scar still haunts me from this on my ankle
thelemonpolice Jul 2018
This love is a scab on my skin
What once was coursing through my veins
Lies flat atop my skin
I keep picking at the edges
I give into the itch
no wonder it won't heal
When everyday it splits
It leaks onto my clothing
It spills from underneath
It stains all that I'm wearing
and makes me grit my teeth
a shower couldn't help me
it stings, I don't feel clean
I wish I could stop picking
But now it's just routine
I wish I would stop scratching
Reopening the wound
Itching just to look at one more
Photograph of you
Itching just to pick up
My phone and speak again
Itching because this skin
wasn't good enough for him.
I have made a song based on this poem, check it out! >>>>>
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2017
when a lost muse is no excuse,
when the mundane and the profane
are away on summer holiday,
and you are currently on the divine’s
'u **** - no write list'

nonetheless the itch in the private
spaces is driving you crazy,
write a poem, write a poem,
in the way a grandmother
(or a mother to a grown child)
whiny nags,
its a nice day, go outside and play
with a strange man,
whatcha ya gonna do, the walls are all painted,
and the good bad boys are out of town, all with the  
other bad good girls, who got there first,
but we will write of
******-rings and
other crazy songs you sing

it is not important you the reader understand every verse,
like Patton said, "it only matters that I know,"

which line is a joke,
which around your neck, your customized yoke,
which the plaintive wail to no avail,
which is the regret that never can be sated,
which is the frustration cratering inside the chest,
which is just, just enough to make a satisfactory smile
upon the lips appear

whose lips?
who cares?
as long as you don't have to hear me sing my poetry
but hear me smiling at
the power of whimsy
and the return of
my no longer muzzy

Ms. Minx AMuse-me
a poem in reserve for you, the Canadian girl
aL Feb 5
Thirsty throat awaits the master
Hands itch to fetch lord some water
Drought of blood in veins won't matter
Cause dehydration puts me into flatter
Andrew Rueter Oct 2017
You act callously crude
Like Cronenberg's brood
You keep the body horror
In the naughty drawer
I feel my body's poorer
So you convince me I'm rich
Then treat me like an itch
And scratch
To detach

You invited me to your chateau
Then left me on this plateau
For my beating heart exploded from my chest
Once I foolishly entered your nasty nest
There I lay
As immobile prey
My body was infected
By your touch
And my mind dissected
Way too much

You passionately present me with body horror
I really resent you for being a shoddy sawyer
Cutting me down but not completely
Your lackluster love travels obliquely
Dislocating my horrified heart
My rib cage begins to part
As my mangled love
Escapes with my blood
My fingers are breaking
Trying to carry the relationship
Happiness I'm faking
When you crack your elation whip

When I'm powerless to the *****
I become showerless in a hurry
And my skin starts to rot
While I lie on your cold cot
You're my unforgiving cop
And the horrors never stop
Austin Morrison Jan 2017
Seven shots with ****** knuckles,
four bottles of letting everyone down,
Eight hits from a disappointing life.

It only took me one trip to the rehab center called your touch. I used the medicine of your love to become sober.

now I am dependent on you, I need you every day and do not feel the same without you. I have an itch when I'm away and a warmth when I'm close. I became addicted to your love.

twelve tabs of compassion,
three pints of self-worth,
five pills of your warm embrace,
And one injection of beautiful passion.

I want you...

I need you...

I have you.

I love you.
One person can change your life in more ways than you could ever imagine.
delicatefractal Jun 2011
Collapsing on my bed
    in a fever,
the stitch in my side
as a knife wound
seeking to stay its itch.
My exposed torso
    reveals no such distress.
The ceiling, as always,
  holds no release.
And I'm getting sick
  of hearing my breath.
Carter Ginter Jul 2013
Auto pilot;
Droning on through the day
Barely realizing where I work,
Just knowing that that's all I do.

The most feeling I have
Is the bothersome itch
From the Mosquitos
Attacking my legs all night.

Scratches, sores, bruises, scars
Painted across my pale skin.
All from work work work
Except for one.

Funny to see what the years do
To the skin you wear
And that so many scars
Just barely heal.
Bants RJ Jul 2018
I’m alone, with smoke and bottles.
With an itch around my neck,
my feet kicks off the bench.

Surrounded by darkness,
a figure has come to jest.
“Did you do your best?”

Feeling hypoxic,
I try to shake my head “No.”
I look at him whilst my feet kick, longing for the ground.

Lighter by the second,
darkening complexion,
I silently scream, “No. No. No.”

With knowing eyes,
the angel sighed,
raised his scythe, ready to chastise.

Although red, my eyes see the light.
But wait, this doesn’t feel right.
Mr. Reaper had nothing to do with me tonight.

My back felt the cold of the floor.
I’m dying no more.
The ancient one cut my rope.

“Don’t.” he says to me.
“Promise me, try to live.”
But I see him nightly.
Josh Aug 1
One and two,
Sure, it felt true

Three and four,
The heart can restore

Five and six
Scars start to itch

Seven and eight
Pain is tied with fate

Please don't make me count to ten
corpser Mar 2016
My whole body itches.
I want to
Randomly assault
Awake at 11:45 in the evening
Tossing and turning
Never asleep.
I reach for that
Itch on my back
And my head
Try my best to breathe
I cant.
Im losing my mind.
Im losing you.
And i dont think
I'll be able to handle it
This time.
I need help.
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