"necrotic" poems
Headstrong, yet bitten by the snake of narcotic charm...
As the venom flows, your dreams slowly begin to die
The goals, the passions, the visions begin to change
The personalty of the passionate man turns to selfishness
The confidence turns to self pity from the demon within
What was, what is and what will be, turns to nothing
The morals turn to lies, the caring turns to taking
This narcotic charm transfers itself to a necrotic death
Your family, your friends, your love, have slowly given up
You've hit rock bottom and still look for the snake's charm
It has been your pet for so long and you can't let it go
Your only have two choices, to slither in it's hole and die
The second is the most important decision of your life
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
i sit here and overdose in my imagination for the fifth time today
too poor to **** myself with a pharmaceutical fantasy no pain just sleep
it's a matter of time before i'm found swinging in my basement necrotic windchime
i'm not so much a poet as a sad kid rambling who can only write inebriated
this one time life thing is getting me sick and i just don't..
**** me i thought i was stronger than this yet years with a **** job
no girl and 5 weeks a night of left hand ************ while i choke down
another bottle bottle bottled my emotions in a seven dollar anesthetic
i've been romanticizing a wished for **** addiction at least that would be an
excuse for why i'm a wasted wasting waste of life doomed to insecurity
i can't even remember half the words i learned in school
you're probably sick of my self loathing and every poem i write is
just another narcissistic cry for help because i'm to proud to ball up and cry
don't even bother this time i don't want your reason for why i can't top myself
kick my bucket, burn my farm, pluck out my eyes and puke till i die
i'm ******* done i'm just too tired to try
to all those girls i never kissed - i love you
to all those ******** i never hit - i love you
to that boy that i might have found myself with - i love you
to my best best best friends the few that i have - i love you
i was never comfortable in my skin
maybe i'll be comfortable in my grave
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
"This s.o.b. has got Tourette's.
Who knows what he might say? We'd better
Get him under before he rises.
Sterilize something fast!"
I'm awake for the time being. When sleep comes
I shall play the perfect display of my bacillus. Reposing
On the white table like a necrotic pieta. Off to my
Left I can hear those touchstones spinning in fine sockets,
Sterilizing my hands by binding my feet. Soon I will be
A paragon of grunting celluloid, clutched at by
Heated hearts to wrinkle and shear.
I can already taste the cleanser.
Rubber foam, steel clamp and tongue depressor.
Excise the black portions with a serrated life,
You might as well. Because it doesn't matter
How much morphine sits in the delirium drip.
I'm still alive: the crush and blink in Boris Karloff eyes.
When I gather up my self in the morning.
I will be instructed to take all Ten a day
And check in regularly. Despite the cold,
Despite the heat, the embryo has quite failed.
Mar 1, 2010
Mar 1, 2010 at 10:34 AM UTC
Of the five senses, touch was the first to go
When the rot set in.
Necrotic from disinterest; disused and numb,
A disconnected ***** a colony of one.
.
Then sound; your messages left unheard.
Just the tap tap tap of some manic mind.
No pause...just repeat; the eternal rewind.
Sleep starved, all words stick frozen in time.
.
For leading me into temptation; my gluttonous sins,
Taste and smell succumbed, then withered and died.
Staunch as a deacon, control finally mine.
The harvest ignored, bloated on the vine.
.
Only sight eludes my metal fatigue.
The mirror much stronger, it haunts and it taunts.
Its warped funhouse images all I can see.
The bully I made...this cruel double of me.
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 3:39 AM UTC
Like leftovers from an extravagant meal,
I thawed my heart and put it on her plate-
I'd hoped it would sustain her.
It was rejected with vigor.
She infers that she's toxic:
spoilt soil at a nuclear blast site.
I'm starting to suspect the offering itself was necrotic.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:28 AM UTC
Have you ever heard the pin drop brightly,
Leather boots on one hundred bodies?
Mermaids, mutants, captivating aliens,
What a world, what a world.
Trees keep calling me elsewhere lately,
Again, more than ever
Wind that I believe is your breath
Scent of the highly
Rose to the nose pricking blood
I wanted this
I got this
Ripped up home
Hell bound
I want this
Necrotic
Kiss on my lips
Unbound
Lashes on the wrist
Just a form of risk
Unleashed
Jun 12, 2015
Jun 12, 2015 at 2:55 AM UTC
Connection involves a reciprocal flow where being detaches from nothingness into an inseparable unity.
So, let us acknowledge the colours and feel the vibrations as they transcend the parameters of compartmentalism, into an infinite and unified whole.
Attempts continue to socialise us into the abyss of perceptual bankruptcy with materialistic carrots where the fabric is truly frayed despite plausible and intellectual argument.
So, I want to talk with you as we swim in deep rivers of generational statements, which are released from the conglomerate of necrotic unions. I raise my glass to realms which lie beyond tangible and finite chords.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:08 PM UTC
Troglodytism. get betwixt thy cave **** rats. amass!!! beyond the wooded canvas of life.
and lay beside thy corpse of agony
in the pits of all foul'd demon beknownst to thou's angst.
there lay the chalice of life.
Oh to lay in the darkness'
o' to bask in the decadence of no light.
Anti heat
forth go ye unto distraction.
To over sensual
to photopic cancer
all bio centric failure that reveals itself in the concord of vestige
only one
only one who's skin, brines to salt. Only one who's writhed on the depth of the cave
sub terrain.
Becoming convoluted
with ulcers. In the brain.
Stomach
esophagus.
Till veins squelch the blood from oxygen as gills. Sea water.
till muscle over sinews, Myomeres.
till acts of mycotic deprecations elude your own grey. Destruction.
And sap what is left
the bends corrode all health.
You eek out a full metabolism.
You finish all hopes with each loathsome meal intake.
death.
Oysters take over.
They create their home
shell of man.
Disabled to a merman, made, morose.
Barnacles infest recesses,
chasms that held mountains of bountiful moral.
Filled till bursting in the case fit for a brain,
but these ocean vermin walk the tightropes of this goblins neural bag.
Tearing each synapse.
Like the innards of a necrotic recluse.
I am the dying vagabond of the ocean.
Finally succumbing to its ethereal pitch covered floor,
where no reflections mourn for me
and ghost wail me no remorse,
as I metamorphose.
Into, detritus.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
Broken skin and tattered shields;
Frozen souls wander a fiery battlefield.
One with human senses notices the pain,
Stops to the side and pushes off the dust and grain.
A warlord who is hurt himself is doing this!
I reach with my hand only to have it torn off my limb.
You are a necrotic soul:
Blissfully decaying, alone and cold.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 7:05 PM UTC
To be classifiable, she nervously applies the cake to her nostrils
While splinters stick in her fingertips. 30. To be a woman she
Harvests necrotic insects and dances in Warhol underpants.
I explain how gravity loves the catalogue of your unique hollywood
Romances. Each train takes a new storyline through the ****** treetops
And counterfeit addictions she poises herself in to seem attractive to
Each magazine under her daddy's workbench.
Being a woman is more than big ***** and paint for brains. Some skins Cling to the reels of the love language sprinting through historical Venetian street settings. I smoke ***** with wizards.
For the first time I witness the acatalepsy of the Irish, but narrowly
Passing the beguiling succor that renders the whim of persons
In the acronychal hours.
I'm telling you your hands are my new exoskeleton. I take to you
With the excitement of gravity. New denude photographs of pallor
Fleshes upstay the human trials we are blessed to share in this open sky,
Where I warn the blues of the sky to be jealous of these sciophilous Women who experience the unyielding pressure to feel the pleasures
Our confabulations offer acushla.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
Fountains past a milky one
blinded spots of spoilt stones
darkened pebbles of loath
turned to a necrotic lesion
tensions of unmentioned
tractions of the substitute
for the light I saw dimmed
Such a rapid trim discarded
as if it never breathed or existed
Such a polish of luminance
evaporated over the unseen clouds
and all the edges are now scratched
summed in all the misspoken words
Why did you even want to play?
with a mass as big as whale
a sail of the disproportionate
abstracted dissonance as accorded
too quick to run away from the red flags
footsteps of the unmarked foot steps
in filtered tracks of a chauvinist prokaryote
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 9:40 AM UTC
I see a fat kid, twenty eight and aging
A welfare old kid, casting sideways eyes
At store front windows to make sure
S/he's getting smaller, to take up less space
This is a small place, we cook in snake oil
A young, self-assured place, still fitting graves
Even the sun shines on this necrotic fixation
Everyone lives in maudlin infatuation
I am neither, born of the expanse in-between
Shrink,
Tiny aspirations, that's us!
Shrink,
Shrink with me into the night in the land of rolling holes
Six feet, at least, sweet destiny sweeps sooner, so soon
Shrink,
Tiny aspirations, that's us!
Shrink,
Shrink with me into the night behind the day,
in the land of thick lipstick over genocide
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
He drowns in the ashes of his own existence,
He breathes the bitter charcoal imbued in gas
And only the flame of love could've ignited the wings of knowledge.
The colors of our merging were painting his new destiny
When he looked at the sky and didn't speak anymore;
He had his mouth sewn and his body tied with a thread of sound
And darkness feathers and the soul of us:
He sewed it himself with his necrotic hand
Because only in death we could've existed as a being.
I've tasted the abyss which trickled on his fingers,
But he couldn't resist it so he conquered the exil.
He fell in the univers, leaving behind a flaming arrow
To burn my sky and life, burying me in the ashes of a past love.
None but the thought left by you helps me find my hope,
Only the illusion of love still burns inside me with purple flames,
And my blood started to ignite our memory,
Covered by the fog of pain and happiness moans.
When black whispers fill my heart and soul,
His violet touch crushing my mellow bones,
Shaped and painted also by him,
Then just the yearning assails me and I remeber
....you'll be next to me, still in the hot sheets from last night.
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 10:19 AM UTC
I think if I hurt enough.
I could write forever.
The blood is the words on the page.
With all names drawn in the skin of every girl or soul or body I've written in.
I'm just trying to make something beautiful. Make something that makes me happy.
Seeing these people in the world I live.
I know it's not real.
I know that I'm just music in flux but a different metal designed into the fabric of complexes sewn into the crystals.
I can't sniff from my nose now. Cuz I'm 26
That's too old.
Not old enough to die.
And you're never old enough to die. Nor young enough to live.
Beer by beer we walk the streets in new lights.
All the cities offer new drains to seap into and breathe damp clusters of anathema.
Gaining asthma.
The loss from living is your lungs.
Breathing in is worth the pain of the silica of sniffing the grass spicules after a rain.
Chewing our way through cellulose and evolution of carnassials.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
I love you, you are mental.
You are chicken oriental.
I love you, cos ya off ya head,
every night when we go to bed ,
getting silly , getting sentimental.
beneath the quilt, ... (its continental)
then I guess, we'll go to town,
underneath the eiderdown....
I love you, my lovely mental case,
i love your mental fkin face .
i love you, cos you love me too,
loving you's like having flu
its like an affliction,
much worse than addiction.
much harder to quit,
than drugs and **** ...
my love for you is not necrotic,
cannot be cured with an antibiotic,
I guess what I'm saying is ..
I love you though, .... ya not the biz.
Been together,
for many a year.
can't belive,
that I'm still here....
(c) mandy *** rigby 04/03/2014
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
Her promises shine golden
His intent rings true
But when forced to the grindstone
Everything falls through.
Can we blame them?
The charade society provokes
Through sex-fuelled propaganda and sappy envelopes
Has written off all stench of decay.
Drug-induced perspective renders each romance fresh
Blinding one to the maggots eroding its flesh
Where people **** to conceal their pain
And persist in vain
To shape the ghost of a dream.
Long after ******
The facts emerge.
Couples gape at their necrotic afterbirth.
They don't understand the futility
Of simply coping.
Gone is hoping
For something beyond the physical.
There's nothing mystical
About mindless lust
Or the relationships scattered to dust
In its wake.
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 1:56 PM UTC
There’s death in my heart
It doesn’t beat
Can’t feel a thing
Icy... necrotic...
I feel like I’m fading
Falling
From reality
From life
From grace
And if I’m really lucky
I’ll talk myself into it
And I’ll get to see it
On my wrist
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 12:16 AM UTC
This violent sadness,
A self-devouring source of madness.
It is an Atlantean endeavour,
It is pure, jaw-dropping terror.
It is this dense weight that I carry -
Snap out of it, hurry, do not tarry,
For my shoulders quiver
And my nerves grow tired and bitter.
Please, hurry;
Wake the **** up.
We don’t have much time,
And up to the mountain’s peak
I wish to climb.
Do not delay;
Every moment wasted
Is an inch further towards necrotic decay.
Why could you never understand?
Why did you never want to cross into uncharted land?
Why the need to cocoon in one place?
Why did you resort to making me hate my own face?
This road, this journey that is life -
I will live it on the edge of a knife,
In between the worlds of peace and strife.
With the soles of my feet,
I shall run on burning coals, exposed to heat.
Within the corridors of my heart,
I will host freedom as my eternal mistress,
And make my life her work of art.
A sun that never quite rises,
After all this, I feel like a discoloured iris,
Like a struggling butterfly,
One that does not want to die,
But does not want to live, either.
I don’t know
Whether you’re lying to yourself or me,
But all I know is that of these hateful chains
I wish to be free.
I will now walk alone, towards the balcony,
Ready to jump and spread my wings;
I wish to fly alone,
For the skies have no queens nor kings.
I am who I am,
A soul, permanently on the lam
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
It's not that
my heart
has been ripped
from my chest
leaving
a gaping hole.
My heart
remains
inside my ribcage
necrotic
gangrenous
rotten
infection spreading.
When I say
I run
until
my feet bleed
I am lying.
In truth
I continue running
long after mere blood
as every inch of skin
is scraped off the soles
then the flesh
until
I am running
on my bare bones
and my unceasing footfalls
grind them to dust.
I describe
the way I cut
into my skin
without mentioning
that I ran
out of space
on that surface
long ago.
Now my knives
dig deeper
severing tendons
and muscles
and when those are done
I start tearing
pieces
out of my flesh
so I resemble
a half-eaten
carcass.
The word "bleeding"
does not describe
the torrent
that pours from me
like ink from a broken pen
no
like water exploding
from a crack in a pipe
no
like a floodgate
opening
letting all the liquid out and leaving behind
a muddy landscape that eventually dries
becoming scored with spiderweb cracks.
It's not that
my bones
are breaking.
None of them
are whole
anymore
what's breaking now
are the pieces
smaller and smaller
they are sharp, tiny shards
piercing my dead heart
falling from my soleless feet, a trail behind me as I run
slicing into me from the inside as I assist them from without
swept along by the red flood
to lodge in my mind.
Dec 16, 2013
Dec 16, 2013 at 11:37 AM UTC
It doesn't hurt because I love you
It hurts because I believed you
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 11:59 AM UTC
you are the generative one
the seed of infinite aspiration
palaces are built in your honor
patterns of movement and measure
can never upstage your immobile empire
your nobility is inherited
its inherent in the smallest flower
its a form of dynamic retribution
for simply becoming conscious
is never really all that easy
so breathe and surround yourself
with memories of meteoric impermanance
the tragedy of seeking in your reflection
a relief from all this suffering
is symbiotically all-perceiving
that life is neither necrotic nor entropic
as every cell is erotically pulsing
and longing for its opposite
until it fully gives itself to love
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
i braved the primordial instrumentality
that ancient architect of my necrotic geometry
wich expressed those waves
that mercilessly envelop your white cliff walls
but this prophecy reveals all things
and i cannot fail
in my absolute perception
of your constant rivers
sacred destinations
the dark repeats itself
and it always plays the same symphonic hell
the agony repeats itself
your movements communicate
the intrinsic cthnonic lie
i dream of disintegration
i want to make love for a thousand nights
and kiss that mortal plasma
a precarious alloy of souls
but i am doomed to dream
dreams i may never touch
i'm a pathetic raging animal
ensnared in chains of violation
i want to explode in sensual ecstasy
as your philosophical knives
carves the most beautiful and elder of runes
into my putrefied flesh
but i feel nothing
i want to destroy you with my kiss
but your love is not strong enough
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
i had a necrotic tooth
inside my mouth
i tasted death
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 5:00 PM UTC