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Brent Kincaid Feb 2015
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
If you have been there, you will understand. If you haven't, I hope this helps you understand someone who has been there or still is.
Rick Warr Dec 2014
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?
A thought also inspired by Susan Greenfield in "Mind Change" and others.
Rachel Klein Mar 2012
"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.
Salacious Alice Apr 2015
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..
elShu Feb 2015
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.
This is my first poem so don't laugh.
Elyse Hyland Oct 2017
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?
Eating disorders ****
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
Jennifer Nov 2015
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
Note that it is only a work of fiction. Any occurrences close to its resemblance to this are only purely is coincidental.
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
Edited... Reposting... Was not satisfied with first version.. "Love dies sometimes".

Thank you for reading.
Culpoetry Dec 2013
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
Cecil Miller Feb 2016
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.
I found this older rendition of a poem I posted on HP last year in my facebook memories. I though people who enjoyed it might like to see this. There have been several versions. I think poetry is alive and ever evolving in our thoughts.
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?
Abaigeal Skye Feb 2014
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.
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.
Påłpëbŕå Sep 2023
i always thought that i'd be the light of your life
like all other fairy tales i'd end up as your wife
but neither do i glow and nor do i show
the traits of being a soft-spoken docile woman
that would be best suited for you, my fav human
i am deranged and dark waiting for a spark
to light me up from within and more
and make me happy to the core
i am like earth in this system of yours
pining over you for so long because
i like the idea of having your sole attention on me
being the centre of your universe maybe
but that's an unhealthy obssession say i
and like the moth, i'm chasing a new high
only that i've hated loving you all along
manifesting by your side i belong
but we couldn't be any different know i this
and that's why i can't even imagine our kiss
because you're too sacred for a demon per say
and i understand your distance anyway, always
yet you're my unwanted muse that i can't not write about
even though i wish to stop and silently shout
it's frustrating to write and yet never be acknowledged
but maybe this anonymity makes me feel privileged
as i write these sentences for you to read
without you actually paying much heed
that you inspire a deep devilish part in me
and become the muse of my petty poetry
i hope this is the last one
i don't understand why i am writing this, but i can't stop myself

to the muse who lives in ignorance
Yenson Sep 2023
The devoted attention is flattering
what can I say...?
its the charisma
its that certain gene c'est quoi
coupled with my regal status
I can appreciate this is quite a heady intoxicating mix to you all

But I must confess the adoration is not mutual
I am really not intrigued
engaged curious nor interested
in youse all overtures and signallings
either overt
obtuse or plain daft
mostly plain daft actually
I'd say dafter than daft to be more precise

You see dear fans
I can see you can't help yourselves
but sadly for all of you
its all in your heads
its known as obssessive compulsion
I can't be blamed for I have neither encouraged or desired this
though respectful to all
I  do not know you all nor do I really desire to know you all

However like I stated earlier
its very flattering and I say thank you
mainly because I personally can't imagine anyone in the world
I can obsess about
were Maya Jama  to move in next door I wouldn't bat an eyelid
though if she show interest I'll bat all types of everything
shot of that
I can't imagine obssessing over anyone the way you lot do

No one lives rent free in my head
or engage my mind to the point of stupidity
kudos to you lot
talk of total obssession but please don't start throwing
knickers and bras
Babatunde Raimi Feb 2020
On that special day
In a blissfull atmosphere
I made out passionately
With my obssession
It was an intense session
Because it lacked supervision
After the seemless transfusion
Done with professional precision
With all the apprehension
Before the mating session
Now I have an undying ambition
With a very crazy compassion
With all the tension
To take you to the session
That will call for a love procession
To declare my obsession
And my conjugal mission
And that is my conclusion
What makes a philosophy?
Is it the locked brain
Or the evergreen ribbons of change?

The racket of the crowd
Or the edge of sanity on a hot, summer night?

The high ride of obssession
Or the fluid ride of emotions in the vacant room?

— The End —