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"oxytocin" poems
Little pieces of you flow through my veins among the plasma and blood cells. Bits of you bump into molecules of oxygen and they smile. My heart loves you. It pumps you through my ventricles and asks my body not to filter any of you out. My brain sends out constant oxytocin in your presence and my hippocampus keeps memories of your touch within easy reach. My body loves you just as much as I do.
0
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
Pieces of Pisces
I was like every other scientist for love to me was just a neural reaction to a certain stimulus presented to an individual, just a hormonal response of a person to a certain situation laid out to them Like a configuration of ****** muscle tissue of one results to an increase of serotonin, dopamine, and for some, oxytocin of another At times, one would affiliate this ****** muscle configuration to that of pentahydroxyhexanal (sugar) and that was discombobulating I could not understand how a smile becomes sweet and yet at that moment when I saw you smile I immediately understood that science science cannot explain this This feeling I have when I see you
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Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
Nerd Stuff I
Within my soul I’ve found yours Are they different? They are one, they are one with the cosmos, But our sub souls have a strong gravity acting on them, A gravity unexplained by science, A gravity we’ve chosen to name love, Scientifically oxytocin creates this feeling, but oxytocin is a by product of this very gravity, What we choose to believe is up to us The sky is blue Love is the fifth dimension A day will come, far far away, A collective surge of this gravity, Will pull all creatures together, There will be no anti love - no hunger no wars, This dimension we only experienced in parts, Will save us from our own destruction
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Jan 10, 2018
Jan 10, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
A Prophecy of Love
There is a painful vacuum Not a naked desire but still A longing unfulfilled That hollows the soul It is why babies wail Why old men wake crying From beginning to end We evolved to be touched Skin on skin does not need to be A ****** frenzy A hug, a handshake And pat on the back Or a hand on his shoulder The old man waits The silence of isolation breaks Oxytocin rushes through his system Rebooting forgotten feelings Restoring diminished capacities It does not return all abilities But enlivens deadened synapses Yes it is very cerebral Without it we wither away Stewing in mental and physical decay So, have you touched someone today?
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Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 12:41 PM UTC
Touch
Unto Him I am glued my King of Prussia. oxytocin- dopamine dilated his pupils inside his blue green as I entered Him, eons ago, and never came out He left but returned to my abode for me or his Tequila. I wanted to fall down crying beg him to take me with him to his heaven Saving me from the hellish existence But pain was greater then tears to convince HIM. ~~ Into his song YESTERDAY I merged  and with one voice we often sing it from that time on and on. I became his song his moon and stars. Although our fame sleeps as beauty rested in a glass coffin; with one leap across the gap chaos that one butcher with medical ignorant lies opened up and three  of us got evaporated. With one song each in heart we bridged that chasm. In his art we thrive yet for long. To Him to his heart of gold I slowly walk to, his ancient bride. Into our holy temple of forever, straight to his heart and open arms United in one single thought. Our own Taj Majal to reign we did plan to build. Into mine eye pupils, grasping all of his substance in his light projecting all was received My intergalactic time traveler. Interchangeable we are. In me he finds more than wisdom he finds truth a true artist. Our true love bittersweet. Before Him I Joyfully crumble kneeling As he embraces my swollen teary eyes and merging me Into to his heart and arms I surrender grace, charm and complete trust. There! In confining solitude In the darkest of mine nights My brightest sunny days it's him I hear, love and seek. I understand, worship and adore him forever more He's my true love! Luna tell Him! That I love him the most. ~~~~~~ Mr. And Mrs Andrew And Karijinbba. All rights reserved
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Mar 17, 2022
Mar 17, 2022 at 4:10 PM UTC
Luna tell Him
Unto Him I am glued my King of Prussia. oxytocin- dopamine dilated his pupils inside his blue green as I entered Him, eons ago, and never came out He left but returned to my abode for me or his Tequila. I wanted to fall down crying beg him to take me with him to his heaven Saving me from the hellish existence But pain was greater then tears to convince HIM. ~~ Into his song YESTERDAY I merged  and with one voice we often sing it from that time on and on. I became his song his moon and stars. Although our fame sleeps as beauty rested in a glass coffin; with one leap across the gap chaos that one butcher with medical ignorant lies opened up and three  of us got evaporated. With one song each in heart we bridged that chasm. In his art we thrive yet for long. To Him to his heart of gold I slowly walk to, his ancient bride. Into our holy temple of forever, straight to his heart and open arms United in one single thought. Our own Taj Majal to reign we did plan to build. Into mine eye pupils, grasping all of his substance in his light projecting all was received My intergalactic time traveler. Interchangeable we are. In me he finds more than wisdom he finds truth a true artist. Our true love bittersweet. Before Him I Joyfully crumble kneeling As he embraces my swollen teary eyes and merging me Into to his heart and arms I surrender grace, charm and complete trust. There! In confining solitude In the darkest of mine nights My brightest sunny days it's him I hear, love and seek. I understand, worship and adore him forever more He's my true love! Luna tell Him! That I love him the most. ~~~~~~ Mr. And Mrs Andrew And Karijinbba. All rights reserved
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60
Matter can not be created nor destroyed. Is it the same with love? I wonder. Perhaps just our love. One does not create it, rather falls into it, proving it's existence. Love is never lost, changed only. It is a chemical reaction, serotonin and oxytocin. The dynamics of our love have shifted. Once drowning in a volatile sea, I was obsessed. Then lying on a dry cracked bed just as damaging. Where did the love go? Into you. Osmosis of love through parted lips, gyrating hips.
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Nov 20, 2015
Nov 20, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
The Science of Love
i love/ the water. gonna set my sights on a sunny californian day. thought of you, oxytocin coursing the grooves of my brain. and you/ in rising colors. i love/ that. that polyeurithmic song of again and again our bodies. dark parked cars. neighborhood bedroom lights, on then off. we continue/ in tongues. i love/ the sand and scent of life. of finding ourselves, in ourselves.
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Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 1:36 AM UTC
wet.
Serotonin Oxytocin mu-2 Kappa Melatonin Acetylcholine Dopamine Epinephrine Your love is a drug your touch is an addiction with pupil dilation and body feeling free I really do even scientifically get high when you are next to me The hormones and pheromones flow in through my nose sink into my skin and flow through then out again as we lay entwined smelling tasting and touching each other. To explain love is both intangible illogical and unknown while at the same time a scientific and physiological study of the way our bodies interact. True love versus lust and arousal which is more addicting and which is something worth predicting? These must be the reasons why when we are together we cannot seem to think we just want to sleep we laugh about nothing and smile for miles we both go limp and hard at the same time sending us both on a ride that leaves us flying high I must say that addiction runs in my family and I am not sure I will ever be able to give you up. Worse than nicotine caffeine pills and alcohol Your love truly is a drug and I will never leave you under the rug. It is said that what is between two people, is something no other will understand even the most in depth conversation can never explain ….and yet here I am writing ten times a day to try and convey this feeling to others all in complete pride and vain.
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Jun 26, 2010
Jun 26, 2010 at 3:25 PM UTC
Drug Dealing - pt. 1 In Bed
chemical cocktail— serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin, etcetera. i'd write you a poem but i'd rather spend my time in bed drinking this chemical cocktail with you.
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Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
Chemical Cocktail
I remember the first time I ********** I thought I was having a seizure- or that I had somehow malfunctioned the Matrix and had broken through a fold of reality; some white-noise ladder to greater plains, throbbing, animal convulsions, and a peak that only death could overpower. I remember crashing into shame upon my return, versus the smug welcome of oxytocin and my adult life; not knowing to what extent my ***** would dominate my mind; you know, I cannot write a poem without noticing my loneliness, all the ******** I have left behind. For that moment, in my New Found ****** I was paralysed at the thought of a sober life, and ever since that moment, ever since that night, I have been searching for those higher plains in the lowest branches of myself. Now I smoke my fill and redden my eyes to bleed out old anxieties, dry up old tears whilst softening scars that I have collected over years spent indoors, hiding from danger. I remember the first time I ********** how it came to me by accident, a repeated motion of unknown emotions; the undulations in her breath; even now I still sit by myself, and make love out of whatever is left.
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Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
My First ****
capsized beating purple algorithm for a heart, cross-nit aspirations still taste dirt on my teeth, the mission creep of eager eyed poets, carry a briefcase with my levi's -- close cut cigarette encounters, all brick shantytown of a friendship them lovelies run on endless, it's starting to get cold outside. restless sprites circle our ***** exhaling greek mythopoeics every sure footed step. alcoholism echoes in my skin a depth charge i cannot cut out, we all have broken thoughts here, all have blind spots in our stomachs, they read like a preacher's insecurities: burly things we warm ourselves with, the winters sting bitter. something is wrong with me, sinkhole of ambition and honey kisses, all the great thinkers **** themselves, it's the staunch lack of spotlight, way the earth drips lackadaisical-like we just call it a perfect orbit. shake my hand and feel a goldilocks pulse anemic shards of a cornered animal, we cut right to the bone here, or so we tell ourselves. and love is always the answer? that sure footed toothy angel so beautiful, it couldn't just be our churlish blood, frothing and calming, frothing and calming, electrons rise and fall to create light, they still circle an untapped atrocity perfectly, like this, like it must be god or something close. something stopping them from running, free from bonds ionic or otherwise, bare feet beating the pavement until there are no more stones to throw. firstborns of the universe, each star is a setting sun, blinks staggered, still grew us up quicker than most, there is no aphrodisiac like heliocentrism. them bones cut good doped up on oxytocin, those empty thoughts still rattling, dig sharp -- then nice and numb. and we cutthroat and glossy, sharper than ever. walk outside smoke a cigarette know how much you love her, look at the stars -- it's ******* beautiful isn't it
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Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 7:57 PM UTC
Jesus, Ect.
capsized beating purple algorithm for a heart, cross-nit aspirations still taste dirt on my teeth, the mission creep of eager eyed poets, carry a briefcase with my levi's -- close cut cigarette encounters, all brick shantytown of a friendship them lovelies run on endless, it's starting to get cold outside. restless sprites circle our ***** exhaling greek mythopoeics every sure footed step. alcoholism echoes in my skin a depth charge i cannot cut out, we all have broken thoughts here, all have blind spots in our stomachs, they read like a preacher's insecurities: burly things we warm ourselves with, the winters sting bitter. something is wrong with me, sinkhole of ambition and honey kisses, all the great thinkers **** themselves, it's the staunch lack of spotlight, way the earth drips lackadaisical-like we just call it a perfect orbit. shake my hand and feel a goldilocks pulse anemic shards of a cornered animal, we cut right to the bone here, or so we tell ourselves. and love is always the answer? that sure footed toothy angel so beautiful, it couldn't just be our churlish blood, frothing and calming, frothing and calming, electrons rise and fall to create light, they still circle an untapped atrocity perfectly, like this, like it must be god or something close. something stopping them from running, free from bonds ionic or otherwise, bare feet beating the pavement until there are no more stones to throw. firstborns of the universe, each star is a setting sun, blinks staggered, still grew us up quicker than most, there is no aphrodisiac like heliocentrism. them bones cut good doped up on oxytocin, those empty thoughts still rattling, dig sharp -- then nice and numb. and we cutthroat and glossy, sharper than ever. walk outside smoke a cigarette know how much you love her, look at the stars -- it's ******* beautiful isn't it
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64
Lust, attraction.. attachment. I'm at the mercy of biochemistry. Cupid with his arrow, shot my soul. In a ridiculous fashion. It makes no sense.. is it supposed to? Flushes cheeks, my hearts racing.. hands are clammy. Never met a soul I was close to. The dopamine, could be the nicotine. I'm blinded.. such a beautiful face The adrenalin & serotonin coursing through my veins. I find I'm tempted, temporarily insane. Cupids star struck victim. Vasopressin & oxytocin in my nervous system. Tell me are these the drugs for long term commitment? I just had to laugh.. in my experience, good things never last. Like the ocean, my love for you was vast. I guess cupid missed his shot The time has come, your love went past. Like cocain, I'm sure there's a better way. It was all just chemicals anyway..
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Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 10:59 PM UTC
Serotonin & Dopamine
You were the greatest neuronal reorganization to ever happen, of course I don't know who I am anymore. What was plastic seems changed to stone in a gargoyle brain and beneath a microscope the shimmering glia spell out your name over and over in little green lights, fossilizing the neurons that say: Him. The earth has an edge. Nobody wants to fall off. So call me Homer, because the gods themselves could not convince me my situation's a sphere there's far too much fear in this flattened plane that understands only primitive desires and just wants you near. Everyone knows the romanced brain could be mistaken for a ******* addict's. But perhaps if you look more closely into my eyes you will see my irises have turned stormy, that cyclones of energy are becoming patterns that scribble and scribble arcane suggestions for a new cartography. A new story. A new being. Supplies needed: One strong pencil. Enough oxytocin to unlearn an addiction. Enough optimism to overcome an affliction, my diction is code for the way you kissed me and it underlines every sentence like the way a voice rises when asking a question. I have so many questions. And even though the notion of who I will be when I am not you terrifies me, like Cathy and Heathcliff I will not be doomed to roam the moors, already I know there's endlessly more, and with or without you the best is yet to come. Just as they say. No, I don't know what's in store. But I think that's okay. Turn golden, Grey Matter, light up 'til you burn. Reboot. Restart. Rewire. Relearn.
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Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
The Break, Part VII: Relearn.
You were the greatest neuronal reorganization to ever happen, of course I don't know who I am anymore. What was plastic seems changed to stone in a gargoyle brain and beneath a microscope the shimmering glia spell out your name over and over in little green lights, fossilizing the neurons that say: Him. The earth has an edge. Nobody wants to fall off. So call me Homer, because the gods themselves could not convince me my situation's a sphere there's far too much fear in this flattened plane that understands only primitive desires and just wants you near. Everyone knows the romanced brain could be mistaken for a ******* addict's. But perhaps if you look more closely into my eyes you will see my irises have turned stormy, that cyclones of energy are becoming patterns that scribble and scribble arcane suggestions for a new cartography. A new story. A new being. Supplies needed: One strong pencil. Enough oxytocin to unlearn an addiction. Enough optimism to overcome an affliction, my diction is code for the way you kissed me and it underlines every sentence like the way a voice rises when asking a question. I have so many questions. And even though the notion of who I will be when I am not you terrifies me, like Cathy and Heathcliff I will not be doomed to roam the moors, already I know there's endlessly more, and with or without you the best is yet to come. Just as they say. No, I don't know what's in store. But I think that's okay. Turn golden, Grey Matter, light up 'til you burn. Reboot. Restart. Rewire. Relearn.
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19
Drug; he controls my brain. He stirs an irresistible blend of chemicals in my body and convinces me to fall for him; he increases blood flow to the primitive areas of my brain and activates the circuits responsible for love and desire. Adrenaline; he balances my stress. He keeps my heart strong and healthy as thoughts of him and us dominate me and excite me, prompting me to get tachycardia (fast heart rate above 100 bpm) and my blood pressure to rise. Dopamine; he regulates my focus. He stimulates desire and triggers pleasure in me; I remember everything about us, then forget about my surroundings; I am motivated to please him, then I daydream and become unable to stay on task. Serotonin; he stabilizes my mood. He charms and induces me to perspire and relax, crave and distance him, lose and gain sleep, feel pain and relief, get happy and upset, and decrease and increase my immune system functions. Medication; he forces my loveswept cells to go haywire. He has cured my lovesickness, shooed away my regrets, helped me move on from my past, boosted my (self-)confidence, made me look forward to tomorrow, and offered me a ticket to bliss. Oxytocin; he enables me to produce lovestruck hormones. He affects my moral molecules as he attracts my undivided attention, pushes me to trust him, raises attachment and empathy, brings psychological stability, and encourages me to want to be closer to him. Vasopressin; he causes me to secrete lovetastic chemicals. He renders me monogamous and continues to have me hooked onto him; he makes me thirst for him, display amorous behavior, defend him and us, and maintain a strong partnership.
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May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 7:18 AM UTC
#11. (Love Science #1) He Is My..., 5/5/16.
Drug; he controls my brain. He stirs an irresistible blend of chemicals in my body and convinces me to fall for him; he increases blood flow to the primitive areas of my brain and activates the circuits responsible for love and desire. Adrenaline; he balances my stress. He keeps my heart strong and healthy as thoughts of him and us dominate me and excite me, prompting me to get tachycardia (fast heart rate above 100 bpm) and my blood pressure to rise. Dopamine; he regulates my focus. He stimulates desire and triggers pleasure in me; I remember everything about us, then forget about my surroundings; I am motivated to please him, then I daydream and become unable to stay on task. Serotonin; he stabilizes my mood. He charms and induces me to perspire and relax, crave and distance him, lose and gain sleep, feel pain and relief, get happy and upset, and decrease and increase my immune system functions. Medication; he forces my loveswept cells to go haywire. He has cured my lovesickness, shooed away my regrets, helped me move on from my past, boosted my (self-)confidence, made me look forward to tomorrow, and offered me a ticket to bliss. Oxytocin; he enables me to produce lovestruck hormones. He affects my moral molecules as he attracts my undivided attention, pushes me to trust him, raises attachment and empathy, brings psychological stability, and encourages me to want to be closer to him. Vasopressin; he causes me to secrete lovetastic chemicals. He renders me monogamous and continues to have me hooked onto him; he makes me thirst for him, display amorous behavior, defend him and us, and maintain a strong partnership.
Continue reading...
14
Text her. Send her messages that she won't know how to respond to. she'll read them and put her phone down. Stare at the read receipt for hours until you realize she's not picking the phone back up, she doesn't have anything to say to you. Eat lots of chocolate. It has serotonin in it, the happy chemical. When you cuddle with her, your brain releases oxytocin. As long as you eat enough chocolate (and throw it up) you won't miss the oxytocin one bit. Bleed. When she tells you that she cuts herself, cut deeper. This is guerrilla warfare now, and for every shot fired you must fire back. Read your messages. Laugh at the nicknames she used. "Princess". "Baby". "Darlin". You were never her princess, never her baby. She was the child and you were merely her plaything. Make art. Write dumb poetry about falling in and out of love, take photographs of your ****** thighs, paint a picture using only shades of red. Let her figure out what all these things mean. Drink. Green tea, ***** over-priced lattes. Stay up all night crying. Wear stilettos. Sit in art museums all alone and wonder if being a starving artist is as much fun as it sounds. Take long showers and harmonize with your favorite songs through your tears. Use heavier, blacker eyeliner. Spend time on yourself. Adopt a cat. But most of all, remember this: You can only love one person. Choose yourself
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Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
How to fall out of love
I'm sorry I treated you like the groupie I've never had. The things I said in haste The anti-promises made Wipe the stars from your eyes I was more like a black hole Imploding your soul I ****** up your heart And got your hopes up I saw your dreams as meant to be taken advantage of Little miss broken Mind if I muse you? to abuse your beauty and exploit your insides for the sake of poetry I could blame it on Goddess oppression, My misogynistic intentions deep rooted by living vicariously through an idea of a rockstar Burnt out before I'm initiated in the 27 club Black holes still in your personality I can't just tell you I was scraping the bottom of the barrel Trying to keep the void filled with inspiration In desperation We both ended up occupying insides caught in a euphoric tide That oxytocin's a helluva drug at least for it's half-life We both came crashing right/write where I intended Reincarnated, by the words I've mended
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Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
Mind if I (m)use You?
This addiction 
has the worst withdrawals. They leave you feeling completely empty and 
alone until you get the next hit. Shaking in anticipation, preparing for the next fix. Face forward, inhale. Hear your heart race through my head. Pounding anxiously, waiting. Finally, the collision creates a moment of pure ecstasy in my addict body. Pressed in close to confuse your heartbeat and the motion of your lungs. The worst withdrawls, but the best high.
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Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
Oxytocin
August nights are deceptive in almost every way. Chivalry may only go so far two blocks in the dark. Pausing in natural progression cross-legged pavement within a 70s orange halo to pet the neighborhood cat and to measure the circumstances of the crossroads. To measure up the exhausted opponents of the oldest colosseum. your frown spoke only negations betrayed by your truth-or-dare eyes. whites revealing an ancient wound, irises concealing an urgency that spread to me on the sidewalk like purple chalk on the driveway Or tendrils of ink in water. I watch the Janus of your being oscillate like glass afraid of breaking itself. The mouth that denies is the mouth that calls its own bluff Renouncing its resolve all over damp trembling skin and the high of oxytocin. I'll... I'll see you again tomorrow? August nights are deceptive in almost every way.
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Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 7:18 PM UTC
I'll walk you home.
love is an illusion it’s just oxytocin; a chemical in the brain it’s not real but the magnocellular neurosecretory cells must be very good at making it and the posterior lobe must be very good at releasing it into my blood because it feels pretty **** real to me
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Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
oxytocin
Scientists say chocolate releases the same hormones into your blood as being with your loved one does. And so I'm sitting at my desk and it's an ungodly hour to be eating candy but you're not here and all I want is that sweet, sweet satisfaction of having the taste of you on my lips. I'm craving you, a desire that clenches at my stomach; all I want is some oxytocin in my system. I lean back in my chair and sigh, tearing another wrapper as I do, each morsel a tease. This cannot compare to the richness of your eyes, or the silkiness of your thighs. This makes my heart beat faster but you- you make it pound. This sends warm sensations through my body but your touch sends lightning through my veins. It's almost morning now, wrappers are strewn about my desk and yet I still crave you.
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Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
Chocolate
Cords are becoming loose, Affections floating the boat To the island of Disappointment Oxytocin no longer rushes Staying stagnant Until a trigger releases the manacles Tied stiffly Assumed there is a chance But you waived the golden opportunity Embarked on the journey Of self-indulgence Into your picked avenue Casanova Betrayer Narcissist Hypocritical Not I But you showed me I will decry
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Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
Growing Dim
I'm staring into your eyes, And I think out of all the guys, You chose me. And I'm staring at you while you sleep, Sounding like some sort of creep, But it's surreal. This is dreamlike. I feel like time goes a little slower with you, I feel like life will never be over with you, I ******* love what I feel when I see you. I live for the emotion you make me feel, I live for the oxytocin my brain starts to spill, The chemical love drug in my head. It makes me think of you late at night lyin' in bed. It's times without you I'm starting to dread. More and more. Because I think I love you, I'm all for you. But I'm trying to work some things out in life. And I'm certainly not trying to introduce you to the strife, That makes up my everyday routine. Girl you make me dream. But in the grand scheme, Will it really matter? Because these words we trade may flatter, But in the end what comes after? Some departing words and some broken hearts? I don't know if I can stand to go through that again. I don't know if I can stand to go through it again. I can't go to sleep runnin' this through my head. I love you, You make me toss and turn in my bed. You make me have beautiful dreams in my bed. You make me wish we could lay awake in my bed. I think I love you...
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Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
You Chose Me.
love is a drug; once you have a taste you can't get enough. maybe that's why I am afraid, afraid to take a sip, a bite, a whiff, of love. i might overdose.
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Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 12:44 AM UTC
oxytocin