"nicotines" poems - Hello Poetry

I've quit the killing- another addiction my convictions are open bare. forgetting what its like, to deal with stress and the like without nicotines merciful smile perfect timing i would say now that math makes up my days and work the latter of my nights i've no form for this urge that pulls inside rung out like a sponge wanting water. elixir of toxins heath risks and iron lungs chained and yet so free. how long can i resist your cough?

0

Jun 2, 2014

Jun 2, 2014 at 4:15 PM UTC

the-phantom

quitting

I've quit the killing- another addiction my convictions are open bare. forgetting what its like, to deal with stress and the like without nicotines merciful smile perfect timing i would say now that math makes up my days and work the latter of my nights i've no form for this urge that pulls inside rung out like a sponge wanting water. elixir of toxins heath risks and iron lungs chained and yet so free. how long can i resist your cough?

20

Inside my room, The hot groans screamed A merry finishing. …Lame whine. Nicer emotions Lift along A meekness. -Idle Wrath —————————————————————————————————— Another ghost scared me Fingers in my hair meanwhile more nicotines falling to make sense. -Wild Heart

0

Oct 8, 2011

Oct 8, 2011 at 3:08 PM UTC

dieter-muniz

To Sheepless Gremlins (Anagram #3)

Inside my room, The hot groans screamed A merry finishing. …Lame whine. Nicer emotions Lift along A meekness. -Idle Wrath —————————————————————————————————— Another ghost scared me Fingers in my hair meanwhile more nicotines falling to make sense. -Wild Heart

17

Cigarettes after cigarettes after cigarettes , Barrels of nicotines Sometimes green flowers with harsh smoke veil , Her tunnel she mazed with mist of darkness , Weaving the oblivion never knew where it leads , How it ends , She kept practising over and over again . His voice was cold , Yet heavy and bold , Paving the dim yellow lights He drilled the night's routine , Chased the bewildered dream , Like a wind and unseen , Reached the volcano's end , He saw her glistening eyes , No matter how dark the shade was , How in distant it was , Still shined like the silver queen of the sun , In her nest , panting , uncanny was her dance beat , Euphoric ideas enthralled by his sight , Roared in her veins , Like a blue bird she wanted to fly away , Like a humming bird she was crooning to his breath , A gorgeous gladiolus that she smelled , Quivered her toes from beneath the planet . Between the bars two glances were met . ©

0

Jan 30, 2018

Jan 30, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC

ErnestoEstefan

Between The Bars

Cigarettes after cigarettes after cigarettes , Barrels of nicotines Sometimes green flowers with harsh smoke veil , Her tunnel she mazed with mist of darkness , Weaving the oblivion never knew where it leads , How it ends , She kept practising over and over again . His voice was cold , Yet heavy and bold , Paving the dim yellow lights He drilled the night's routine , Chased the bewildered dream , Like a wind and unseen , Reached the volcano's end , He saw her glistening eyes , No matter how dark the shade was , How in distant it was , Still shined like the silver queen of the sun , In her nest , panting , uncanny was her dance beat , Euphoric ideas enthralled by his sight , Roared in her veins , Like a blue bird she wanted to fly away , Like a humming bird she was crooning to his breath , A gorgeous gladiolus that she smelled , Quivered her toes from beneath the planet . Between the bars two glances were met . ©

28

I'm on the bus going to the airport, the view's pretty cool. My mind looks like a writers paper when they have writers block. I'm not scared of much anymore, just faces in my heart turning into gaps. I'm waiting for a spark of creativity but I can't seem to light anything right now. I feel like an empty lighter waiting for a miracle to happen, hoping to light a nicotines addict cigarette. I wonder why time tends to fast forward when I finally realize and cherish. The plane ride is going to be a ***** Not the one with big ***** at least . Nothing a ***** boy can get.

0

Jul 30, 2014

Jul 30, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC

david-bojay

recovery

I'm on the bus going to the airport, the view's pretty cool. My mind looks like a writers paper when they have writers block. I'm not scared of much anymore, just faces in my heart turning into gaps. I'm waiting for a spark of creativity but I can't seem to light anything right now. I feel like an empty lighter waiting for a miracle to happen, hoping to light a nicotines addict cigarette. I wonder why time tends to fast forward when I finally realize and cherish. The plane ride is going to be a ***** Not the one with big ***** at least . Nothing a ***** boy can get.

9