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"obssession" poems
He can’t explain the pain Like boot prints on his brain And it only seems to subside When she is beside him. Then, it begins to slowly dim. When she is not around He can be found on the ground Screaming just like his head, Full of frenzied villagers instead Of what everyone else feels And thinks, as he again sinks Into that swamp of horror And anguish. Moreover, He knows he is alone in this. This is not from her kiss It is from its absence. He’s not addicted to absinthe Like some Victorian poet. He’s insane now and knows it. But she can calm mind In the deluge he always finds When she goes away a while. First he loses the desire to smile Then he can’t talk any more. He forgets what words are for. He only howls and raves. He knows nobody can save him. He has but to swim to shore From the wreck that is his peace. It is his only real release. It’s all that heals his soul. She has become the goal His only purpose in the world Is in the hands of this one girl; This woman, elevated to deity. His only true reality. How can this happen, he cries. He doesn’t understand the whys And wherefores that turns love, Completion and fulfillment Into horrifying derailment Of all his hopes and dreams And fills his heart with screams Like a little boy on a wrong bus. And nobody there to discuss things To help him see what is happening And why the one thing he cares for Doesn’t fulfill him anymore Unless she is here to hold his hand. He fails completely to understand. Brent Kincaid 2/13/2015
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Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
OBSSESSION
He can’t explain the pain Like boot prints on his brain And it only seems to subside When she is beside him. Then, it begins to slowly dim. When she is not around He can be found on the ground Screaming just like his head, Full of frenzied villagers instead Of what everyone else feels And thinks, as he again sinks Into that swamp of horror And anguish. Moreover, He knows he is alone in this. This is not from her kiss It is from its absence. He’s not addicted to absinthe Like some Victorian poet. He’s insane now and knows it. But she can calm mind In the deluge he always finds When she goes away a while. First he loses the desire to smile Then he can’t talk any more. He forgets what words are for. He only howls and raves. He knows nobody can save him. He has but to swim to shore From the wreck that is his peace. It is his only real release. It’s all that heals his soul. She has become the goal His only purpose in the world Is in the hands of this one girl; This woman, elevated to deity. His only true reality. How can this happen, he cries. He doesn’t understand the whys And wherefores that turns love, Completion and fulfillment Into horrifying derailment Of all his hopes and dreams And fills his heart with screams Like a little boy on a wrong bus. And nobody there to discuss things To help him see what is happening And why the one thing he cares for Doesn’t fulfill him anymore Unless she is here to hold his hand. He fails completely to understand. Brent Kincaid 2/13/2015
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52
screen obsession has taken possession our lives are not our own we spend all our time looking down at laptop or smart phone why do we need the data feed at every living moment perhaps we could learn to ditch the phone and just think of what the day meant?
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Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
obssession ...
"Why Fruit Ninja?" "What makes you so happy About slicing and dicing fruit?" "I don't understand." I hear it all the time. But I can't explain Why slicing fruit with a giant knife Brings so much joy. Honestly, I find it a bit odd That they can't see Everything in front of their eyes. It's plain to see. For me, at least, It's a simple choice. I can slice the fruit, Or slice my wrists. I can bring pain to myself Or the fruit. Which one Would you prefer? I prefer the cutting of my wrists. However, society thinks Cutters are insane. We have to fit The "socially acceptable" standard So I'll spend my days slicing fruit. My nights will be Consumed by bleeding. Bleeding wrists. Serving their justice for my crimes. Fruit ninja by day. Wrist ninja by night.
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Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 4:17 AM UTC
Fruit Ninja Obssession
Sweet as the pantries, She basked herself in a fanciful coating of clothes and accessories, Longing to find what she termed her "Identity" in her self-proclaimed journey of seeking Truth. Basing herself upon these coatings, The sweetness, the addictive tone of hanging on to the securities of being visually appealing had been the sole thought harnessed in her underutilized mind. "What should I wear?" "Am I looking too ugly in this?".... undisclosed, subtle yet toxic cycle of thoughts kept protruding from the braincentre. Things unkempt, bottles scattered over the floor, food wrappers uncleaned....she continued glorifying herself with her trance-like state of consciousness: Calling it "Nirvana" as she glanced over her new list of Boy-friends on Facebook. While ignoring being a pejoratory display to others, she went on profusely with her self-consuming obssession on "Beautification"....with few occassions of gaining a few disapproving glints of nostalgia from her used-to-be down-to-earth mates. ****** Her work was disorganized, she was casted out from the team she used to collaborate with on a Science project, and became merely an alluring visual representation for pack of hungry alpha wolves. Disintegration, down to the floor her teardrops were drained from her tearducts as she pushed every bottle of her exclusive make-up products away. "Useless, worthless...."the self-degenerating dictionary of vocabulary swarmed her psyche, attacking every single optimistic living cell in her. Few days had passed when she found herself sleeping on the cold, hard, unrelenting floor. With a slow recovering stance, she gets up with the final thought of taking a chocolate bar for sugar. Now she is a healthy, spiritual woman committed in empowering others to find their true identity
0
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 4:34 AM UTC
The Woman
Sweet as the pantries, She basked herself in a fanciful coating of clothes and accessories, Longing to find what she termed her "Identity" in her self-proclaimed journey of seeking Truth. Basing herself upon these coatings, The sweetness, the addictive tone of hanging on to the securities of being visually appealing had been the sole thought harnessed in her underutilized mind. "What should I wear?" "Am I looking too ugly in this?".... undisclosed, subtle yet toxic cycle of thoughts kept protruding from the braincentre. Things unkempt, bottles scattered over the floor, food wrappers uncleaned....she continued glorifying herself with her trance-like state of consciousness: Calling it "Nirvana" as she glanced over her new list of Boy-friends on Facebook. While ignoring being a pejoratory display to others, she went on profusely with her self-consuming obssession on "Beautification"....with few occassions of gaining a few disapproving glints of nostalgia from her used-to-be down-to-earth mates. ****** Her work was disorganized, she was casted out from the team she used to collaborate with on a Science project, and became merely an alluring visual representation for pack of hungry alpha wolves. Disintegration, down to the floor her teardrops were drained from her tearducts as she pushed every bottle of her exclusive make-up products away. "Useless, worthless...."the self-degenerating dictionary of vocabulary swarmed her psyche, attacking every single optimistic living cell in her. Few days had passed when she found herself sleeping on the cold, hard, unrelenting floor. With a slow recovering stance, she gets up with the final thought of taking a chocolate bar for sugar. Now she is a healthy, spiritual woman committed in empowering others to find their true identity
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12
Love is Emotion Love is Passion Love is Rejection Love is Obssession Love is Transition.. ** Love is Going through the pain Again and again Over and over, yet again !!** Being in love is the best phase The Missing, The Craving, The Feeling The Thinking, The Caring, The Loving.... But soon the phase is over... And Then follows The Guilt The Pain The Hurting The Blaming The Shaming The Hating The Name calling.. This is acceptable The parting shots But Where does it all lead to?? The worst is yet to begin, The Obsession.. The Rejection The Vengeance... The Stalking The Blackmailing.... The Threatening... & Then the worst phase begins Love is Lost.. Love is Dreaded.. Love is Goaded.. Love is Loaded Love is Roasted. And The memory is darkened.. The torment awakened.. **The once beautiful Love turns Suffocating emotion.. When** Love becomes Unsettling Love becomes Unnerving Love becomes Unstoppable Love becomes Unsympathising Love becomes Unwanted.. Love becomes Unrequited **Then Love becomes a question And An unsolved emotion..!!** It becomes a simple understanding gone wrong forever, Failing to believe The love can end.. The relation can die.. The fizz can evaporate.. The things can come to end... If you ever loved someone, wish them happiness, If you ever loved someone let it go If you ever loved someone then LET LOVE PREVAIL... !! Sparkle In Wisdom Oct 2018
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Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 3:35 AM UTC
Let Love Prevail!
To, Someone who has never felt it? I am deeply sorry. Almost sorry enough to see my deepest of sympathy formed like a black chasm An endless descent into the realms of obssession and unrequited affections I've been tumbling around upon a cycle Like a water-wheel filling up upon a stream of blood, leaked from dreams of sweet love At first so warming and welcoming At last so bitter, like ice breaking at cycle's end. Oh, these long moments of fleeting affection These different spirits they ensnare me In condensated reflections of myself and my past. Why, these feelings Are they not just ~ Love
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Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
An Open Letter
This is another set of poems i wrote that I have been trying to turn into a song. It's composed loosely, for that's the way I write - kind of from the center out, and I don't like to rework my words too much because I find that it alters the original intended feeling, so please forgive the grammarical errors and call it creative liscense. I've been a fool, I've been a fool, it's true Now I live without you Without you by my side I can't go on I don't want to go on without you If at night you hear the wind is moaning Your lonely soul is groaning Think back, you'll find I'm on your mind There was a time when you were mine Everytime the phone rings and there's a hang-up on the line If you search for what is lost it's me you'll find At the end of the mystery... Though I'm a poor man, And I'm tired I'll never tire of loving you. If you're alone and you can't stop crying, cry, cry for me, too. I'll weep for you. There was a time when you were mine. Footnote: This was writen about obssession a long time ago, but now I think it's more about the subject just THINKING he was obssessed. And no, it's not about me but, in my writing I have always been able to empathize with various points of view.
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:52 PM UTC
A Time When You Were Mine(early 2012 - including original notes))
Surreal thoughts devour me.. Like an echo from an ancient god.. Yuh keep summoning me.. Lure me in to this mess.. But i cant stop.. I cant refuse.. Coz this i have for yu, Is beyond my control.. Its a sin i cant walk away from..
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
..My Obssession..
He is the first thing that comes in my mind In the morning and even at night His deep brown eyes takes me away Watching the same video as I replay Is this love? or is it  'obsession'? As one of my friend would say. But I know what this feeling is This pure original sensation Makes my stomach jump And my heart warm It is an emotion that I can not describe This deep affection deep inside. I think its called 'love' But I also think its more than that. Four words can't describe this feeling This devotion is Beyond.
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
Love or Obssession
You wonder why young children look in the mirror In disgust with themselves. Why they go looking for love In places they know it won't be found. You can't comprehend why they, With so much ahead of them, bury themselves In an avalanche of notifications Intangible, glowing distractions. A sick, insuperable obssession With the thought that Connections to trajedy somehow transform them Into more beautiful creatures. Our generation is enthralled With negative space. Gaps in time; Valleys eroding inward until There is just *Nothing Left To give.* Happiness is out there for all Who lift their heads from the blankness.. Let's bring ourselves back into a pure, Simple life. It's worth living.
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Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
Negative Space
I used to **** my stomach in, Till my lungs would ache and split, Then I learned to pull my muscles up, And I'd find a better fit. I learnt from magazines, and TV shows, The things that told us, To always shrink, to never grow. I learnt from my mother and my sister, Who would sit and pinch their thighs, With a sigh and a shriek, About needing to go down a size. I became obsessed, But not with food, wine, or shopping, My obsession was with the fat under my skin, Growing fast and never stopping. I became obsessed with numbers, Numbers even though I hated math, People telling me to stop, to eat, The voices in my head would clash. I feared that I would grow, But also I would shrink, Fingers trailing gaunt on skin, My madness slipping from the brink. I feared that I wouldn't wake up, The next morning, the next week, But I couldn't stop myself from finding, The skinny I'd always seek. I'm not fat, I know I'm not, And I know weight does not define me, But I see the bone, I strive to see it more, Without bone what would I be?
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Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 5:22 AM UTC
Learning, Obssession, Fear
Jealousy is a terrible feeling. Worse than love, it creeps into your mind all the time, poisoning your every thought. The aching feel of guilt, but worst than that, the feeling of accomplishement when you **** up the life of someone you hate. It’s a terrible feeling. All for the name of Jealousy, that evil God who decides for you who to be jealous of, who to hate. He does not care about empathy. He does not care about anything. He is Satan’s minister, and evil is his work of art. His obssession. I am the canvas on which he paints Red.
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 6:08 PM UTC
Satan's last name is Jealousy
He locked me in his atmosphere so tight, he squeezed I couldn't breath...I struggled, I fight. He clipped my wings and took away from me something within I've never creeped yet he would follow me, lurking in my shadows. He became my nightmare, in my thoughts he appeared so vividly. I was driven mad, I was always sad as I lost the space I had. "Don't do this, don't wear that"...I wasn't a ******* handicap! I start a fire to turn him into ashes, now I was losing all righteousness I had. I was a victim in my own skin, I drew from him his curse of sins... Scorned and dangerous... I hurt even when words were unspoken. "I love you, please stay" was all he could say. I looked hell in the face as I slowly broke away. No I refuse to be controlled, I just cannot be controlled. His obsession grew old and I grew tired of it all, I wanted it no more. S.B
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Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 11:43 AM UTC
His Obssession
i created you from head to toe ive given you a caracter a role to play in my game you were a God i was a Godess we lived togheter for so long then i found out you were real and had never been in the game where was i all this time where where you?
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Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 1:38 AM UTC
obssession