"mindfucking" poems - Hello Poetry

I tasted her mind, after drinking her juices. Delicious poisons.

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Oct 31, 2014

Oct 31, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC

JohnM

Mindfucking myself

I tasted her mind, after drinking her juices. Delicious poisons.

3

27 Today I turn 27, Finding myself not feeling anything, Recovery is a bittersweet ending, Sobriety but a lingering telling, It took 27 lines of ******** drugs, Not the kind you may think off, The kind we are so addicted to, 27 lines of the purest lies, 27 lines of the finest mistreatment, 27 lines of the most mindfucking self harming, 27 lines of the most relaxing coping, 27 lines of the most euphoric settling, It took 27 contracts, To realize that in this tale as old as time ending, Is never too late, To rule over a queendom, Abandoned by the heiress, A queen of a lonely poetry, Fading in the vision, Chasing fantasies, Never seeing the clock behind her, 27 years to wake up from a slumber, A self given kiss, The curse is broken, 27 years of harcore lines, The ones that only make you realize, Delusion is but a poisoned apple, The side effects but a reflection of the hidden mirror, For in the end, my world is but an illusion, The same you wake up to, An actress of everyone's delusions, Never given a chance to envision, The illustrations of a scripture, A tale written by a lonely heiress, One that welcomes, Foes that see the vision, Wolves wearing sheep linen, Their masquerade no longer hidden, 27 years of ******** lines, Rose pink sunglasses the sweetest red wine, 27 years of the finest lines, Why was it so hard, To see what was left behind, A world that is only mine, Looking, looking, and looking, For a savior wearing armor and diamond, Today I realize, The heaviness in my heart, Heaviness of armor I looked past, I had been fighting a war, To protect what is so precious and not far, The vision of a lonely child, Made to closer her eyes, So she would never realize, She was the one she was looking for, Shameless for is never too late, To open the gates of heaven inside.

0

Apr 20, 2025

Apr 20, 2025 at 9:11 PM UTC

VioletEvang

27

27 Today I turn 27, Finding myself not feeling anything, Recovery is a bittersweet ending, Sobriety but a lingering telling, It took 27 lines of ******** drugs, Not the kind you may think off, The kind we are so addicted to, 27 lines of the purest lies, 27 lines of the finest mistreatment, 27 lines of the most mindfucking self harming, 27 lines of the most relaxing coping, 27 lines of the most euphoric settling, It took 27 contracts, To realize that in this tale as old as time ending, Is never too late, To rule over a queendom, Abandoned by the heiress, A queen of a lonely poetry, Fading in the vision, Chasing fantasies, Never seeing the clock behind her, 27 years to wake up from a slumber, A self given kiss, The curse is broken, 27 years of harcore lines, The ones that only make you realize, Delusion is but a poisoned apple, The side effects but a reflection of the hidden mirror, For in the end, my world is but an illusion, The same you wake up to, An actress of everyone's delusions, Never given a chance to envision, The illustrations of a scripture, A tale written by a lonely heiress, One that welcomes, Foes that see the vision, Wolves wearing sheep linen, Their masquerade no longer hidden, 27 years of ******** lines, Rose pink sunglasses the sweetest red wine, 27 years of the finest lines, Why was it so hard, To see what was left behind, A world that is only mine, Looking, looking, and looking, For a savior wearing armor and diamond, Today I realize, The heaviness in my heart, Heaviness of armor I looked past, I had been fighting a war, To protect what is so precious and not far, The vision of a lonely child, Made to closer her eyes, So she would never realize, She was the one she was looking for, Shameless for is never too late, To open the gates of heaven inside.

58

As the existential transition is signed and stamped and photographed for our fathers My little journey a little later than others, an adherence to the structure sure, but where else will we learn As the papers are handed in, the informal formalities hit home with just enough liquor And we are torn between insecurity and empowerment I notice among the bread and beer and bullshitting banter One of the girls is looking my way a little longer Her mind draws me in to a natural respect, an intelligence clearly and frankly explored It is a source of comedy, a source of conversation, and for me I'd be lying if not a source of attraction Naturally her appearance doesn't hurt the situation, a compliment of warm smiles and intense colour coupled with an honest sense of self And a sleek silhouette to hold it in One thing this town has taught me, by both strangers and the self It doesn't take much to be **** The real goal is constructed from the subtle implication of your own taste That you find that someone who is sexually and socially engaging And who could add more than trivial ******* to your life Someone who compliments and compares to you, reconstructing the familiar to something more rewarding That is not to say *** is pointless But if you find that right one who acts as your muse, *** is another exploration of that two way empowerment Clothed and carrying on, you can talk out the simple and fantastical, defining direction as companions who find each other's presence a motivating reassurance And in the sweat and the snog, after the spontaneous first **** frees you, you can start to suggest new tests of sensuality and mindfucking loveliness I wonder if all those looks mean what I feel they mean That she respects me in a way I haven't given her openness for, that I let those compliments go deeper than rain on the wind shield That all the natural conversation is something for which I should let go of all the defensiveness that has kept me so comfortable in these years of functional formality That maybe I should take a chance on this one, that cute one standing tall on her identity, in the same time of transition as me But with less lessons behind her concreting her certainty Maybe it's worth risking that bitter old ******* rejection just one more time Maybe I should ask her if there's something In That Really Inviting Look.

0

Jul 6, 2014

Jul 6, 2014 at 4:22 PM UTC

martin-rombach

In That Look

As the existential transition is signed and stamped and photographed for our fathers My little journey a little later than others, an adherence to the structure sure, but where else will we learn As the papers are handed in, the informal formalities hit home with just enough liquor And we are torn between insecurity and empowerment I notice among the bread and beer and bullshitting banter One of the girls is looking my way a little longer Her mind draws me in to a natural respect, an intelligence clearly and frankly explored It is a source of comedy, a source of conversation, and for me I'd be lying if not a source of attraction Naturally her appearance doesn't hurt the situation, a compliment of warm smiles and intense colour coupled with an honest sense of self And a sleek silhouette to hold it in One thing this town has taught me, by both strangers and the self It doesn't take much to be **** The real goal is constructed from the subtle implication of your own taste That you find that someone who is sexually and socially engaging And who could add more than trivial ******* to your life Someone who compliments and compares to you, reconstructing the familiar to something more rewarding That is not to say *** is pointless But if you find that right one who acts as your muse, *** is another exploration of that two way empowerment Clothed and carrying on, you can talk out the simple and fantastical, defining direction as companions who find each other's presence a motivating reassurance And in the sweat and the snog, after the spontaneous first **** frees you, you can start to suggest new tests of sensuality and mindfucking loveliness I wonder if all those looks mean what I feel they mean That she respects me in a way I haven't given her openness for, that I let those compliments go deeper than rain on the wind shield That all the natural conversation is something for which I should let go of all the defensiveness that has kept me so comfortable in these years of functional formality That maybe I should take a chance on this one, that cute one standing tall on her identity, in the same time of transition as me But with less lessons behind her concreting her certainty Maybe it's worth risking that bitter old ******* rejection just one more time Maybe I should ask her if there's something In That Really Inviting Look.

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