"necrophiliacs" poems - Hello Poetry

I am the key to the lock in your house You burned a hole in my heart Where the arteries flow. And the veins are blocked like gutter drains, No one can pass - through the Red Sea, A no go area. A hairline fracture into a million capillaries, Split arteries to take each feeling individual to the tips of my skin. Still covered beautiful but a nails cuticles, Impaled on a cross resembling a torso. Hollow bones that play like xylophones In the tombs of hidden organs that echo & resonate through the decay of a necrophiliacs playground. Dislocated limbs swing round a rib cage, Splinters shatter the skin revealing the droplets of blood that pour like rain and tears combined. Twist past as they gloop through a cutlets spine. Always on my mind, always on my mind. Cobwebs of memories, Embedded in a decayed gut, Dug up like skeletons in cemeteries to find the remedy or medicine to plug the bullet shaped holes you made in my heart.

0

Feb 23, 2016

Feb 23, 2016 at 6:26 AM UTC

gotguanxi

Climbing up the walls (part one)

I am the key to the lock in your house You burned a hole in my heart Where the arteries flow. And the veins are blocked like gutter drains, No one can pass - through the Red Sea, A no go area. A hairline fracture into a million capillaries, Split arteries to take each feeling individual to the tips of my skin. Still covered beautiful but a nails cuticles, Impaled on a cross resembling a torso. Hollow bones that play like xylophones In the tombs of hidden organs that echo & resonate through the decay of a necrophiliacs playground. Dislocated limbs swing round a rib cage, Splinters shatter the skin revealing the droplets of blood that pour like rain and tears combined. Twist past as they gloop through a cutlets spine. Always on my mind, always on my mind. Cobwebs of memories, Embedded in a decayed gut, Dug up like skeletons in cemeteries to find the remedy or medicine to plug the bullet shaped holes you made in my heart.

26

You carefully destroyed me Uncovered the most tender parts of my core with detective kit compliments Places where I never let anyone feed. You gnawed on the clitoral soul that I thought I buried years ago Until I lay sprawled beneath you, no pulse. Necrophiliacs like us best when we cannot match their heaving breaths Or reach out to wipe the sweat off their brow, induced from fear of poor performance. How unfortunate for you that I am an empty casket. Accustomed to cremation, I turned to ashes upon your final assault. Try to grasp me again, I’ll slip through your fingers. There isn’t an urn strong enough to keep a woman condensed

0

Mar 4, 2013

Mar 4, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC

rachel-elizabeth-2

Grave Digger

You carefully destroyed me Uncovered the most tender parts of my core with detective kit compliments Places where I never let anyone feed. You gnawed on the clitoral soul that I thought I buried years ago Until I lay sprawled beneath you, no pulse. Necrophiliacs like us best when we cannot match their heaving breaths Or reach out to wipe the sweat off their brow, induced from fear of poor performance. How unfortunate for you that I am an empty casket. Accustomed to cremation, I turned to ashes upon your final assault. Try to grasp me again, I’ll slip through your fingers. There isn’t an urn strong enough to keep a woman condensed

11

A walking corpse, undead amongst a society of necrophiliacs.

0

Apr 4, 2014

Apr 4, 2014 at 8:17 PM UTC

peyton-leigh-stille

As My Left Arm Swings

A walking corpse, undead amongst a society of necrophiliacs.

1

I miss you like maps miss fingers, Like mikes miss singers, Like bells miss ringers, Like cakes miss bakers, Like lakes miss boats, Like bad swimmers miss floats, Like politicians miss votes, Like doting parents miss school plays, Like nymphomaniacs miss lays, Like necrophiliacs miss graves, Like hypochondriacs miss prescriptions, Like ****** misses addictions, Like carpets miss friction, Like Billy Bunter misses midnight feasts, Like the grim reaper misses grief, Like Henry misses the goodfellas, Like sand sculptures miss umbrellas, Like Rubix cube devotees miss puzzles, Like rabid dogs miss muzzles, Like Van Gough missed his brushes, Like speed freaks miss rushes, Like pens miss paper, Like the Mona Lisa missed Pater, Like the canvas misses the creator, Like how the thirsty miss water, Like the hungry miss food, Like ***** miss the lewd, Like the mind misses mood, Like the tides miss the moon, Like the sane miss the loons, Like the dark misses the light, Like the brave miss the fright, Like the kite misses the wind. Like a phone misses a ring Like every misses thing.

0

Jun 3, 2016

Jun 3, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC

simon-soane

Miss

I miss you like maps miss fingers, Like mikes miss singers, Like bells miss ringers, Like cakes miss bakers, Like lakes miss boats, Like bad swimmers miss floats, Like politicians miss votes, Like doting parents miss school plays, Like nymphomaniacs miss lays, Like necrophiliacs miss graves, Like hypochondriacs miss prescriptions, Like ****** misses addictions, Like carpets miss friction, Like Billy Bunter misses midnight feasts, Like the grim reaper misses grief, Like Henry misses the goodfellas, Like sand sculptures miss umbrellas, Like Rubix cube devotees miss puzzles, Like rabid dogs miss muzzles, Like Van Gough missed his brushes, Like speed freaks miss rushes, Like pens miss paper, Like the Mona Lisa missed Pater, Like the canvas misses the creator, Like how the thirsty miss water, Like the hungry miss food, Like ***** miss the lewd, Like the mind misses mood, Like the tides miss the moon, Like the sane miss the loons, Like the dark misses the light, Like the brave miss the fright, Like the kite misses the wind. Like a phone misses a ring Like every misses thing.

35

Humans are ****** up. We search and search for the approval of others. We coordinate clothes in order to get "that image." We make our music selections based on what everyone else is listening to. We don't shower because hygiene is so uncool. We starve our selves to get concaving clavicles. We boast of the ***** and drug abuse in order to appear "hard." Why? Who cares what ***** is wearing if it makes them feel good? Why give two ***** if they don't know that band, it doesn't make them inferior or you superior? ******* shower, if you don't shower for own personal enjoyment then power to you but because "greasy hair is in" isn't acceptable because I can tell you, it's not. Collarbones aren't hot or romantic, the only thing deep about them is the depth, very few people like to cuddle skeletons, maybe necrophiliacs but if you want to cuddle a necrophiliac then good luck to you. Being a heavyweight, smoking **** cigarettes, hard drugs aren't ******* cool. If you do them then do it for yourself and not because you want other people to know you do them. Riddle me this, If we accepted ourselves for the clothes we wear, the choices we choose, the body we've been bestowed, and everything we are, then would we need others' approval? Is having an image all that great? Think about it, your image in the mirror, you dissect it until you want to change almost everything about yourself. I understand that I am the worst hypocrite of them all because I have yet to approve of myself but that's me. I accept that. Can you?

0

Feb 21, 2014

Feb 21, 2014 at 3:17 PM UTC

emily-hobza

Image

Humans are ****** up. We search and search for the approval of others. We coordinate clothes in order to get "that image." We make our music selections based on what everyone else is listening to. We don't shower because hygiene is so uncool. We starve our selves to get concaving clavicles. We boast of the ***** and drug abuse in order to appear "hard." Why? Who cares what ***** is wearing if it makes them feel good? Why give two ***** if they don't know that band, it doesn't make them inferior or you superior? ******* shower, if you don't shower for own personal enjoyment then power to you but because "greasy hair is in" isn't acceptable because I can tell you, it's not. Collarbones aren't hot or romantic, the only thing deep about them is the depth, very few people like to cuddle skeletons, maybe necrophiliacs but if you want to cuddle a necrophiliac then good luck to you. Being a heavyweight, smoking **** cigarettes, hard drugs aren't ******* cool. If you do them then do it for yourself and not because you want other people to know you do them. Riddle me this, If we accepted ourselves for the clothes we wear, the choices we choose, the body we've been bestowed, and everything we are, then would we need others' approval? Is having an image all that great? Think about it, your image in the mirror, you dissect it until you want to change almost everything about yourself. I understand that I am the worst hypocrite of them all because I have yet to approve of myself but that's me. I accept that. Can you?

17