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Brycical Dec 2012
Closed my heart for a moment
to open my eyes
& mind,
didn't realize
I was nakedly dancing
with some reprobate snakes  
because I was trying to make them smile
like a stripper searching for tips.

I liked the way they rattled
through life, their *****
thoughts synced
up to diff'rent
drums 'till I felt the venom
in my veins they claimed were
love bites, despite the paralyzation
of my intuition and warmth.

I was seeking out the snake's smile
if only for a little while
cause I thought my heart could help.
But snakes can't crack a smile,
no, snakes can't crack a smile.
Amanda Kay Burke Jul 2023
The saddest thing is state of this world
In eerie indoctrinated paralyzation
Beautiful globe that once triumphantly twirled
Now in serious need of proper navigation
What has society become? :/
Snotty VX Mar 2017
We all know the cracks between them are temporary, from downing a handful of happy-candy and flowers with a swig of chamomile tea, how only closing their eyes softly and the paralyzation of their body, pulling them and their body down the rings of Saturn can aliviate the scent of their own fear fighting WW2 in their veins, and the sound of humming from the television with a shattered screen... or what we call the voices of people in a large, congested crowd.
DarkDepriment Jul 2015
And I left you even though my bones, heart and soul didn't quit agree with my actions and I stay up every single night with a bottle of something alcoholic by my bed and a full pack of cigarettes under my pillow just in case I do fall asleep by an accident and dream of you, then I can jolt awake with the realization that I left you and I can drown my stomach with so much alcohol that I drink myself into a drunken paralyzation so I can't run to you in the middle of the night so you can make it all better

I'm so tired of thinking of the reasons why you did it
I'm done with blaming myself for what you did and putting myself down and shaming myself thinking that I wasn't good enough for you
I want my heart to know that I was to good for you and you knew that so you cheated to make yourself feel better.
You didn't deserve me anyway.
[September 9, 2016]
[Viewer Discretion Advised]


Shimmering rays of light shine into a room hidden in t­he darkness
Sweat glistening like crystals off an invisible form ­hiding within silence
A crimson puddle sparkles beautifully benea­th the broken tortured
figure
The iron reverberates from shackles­ of a brilliant metallic silver

Within the tortured silence the ­distinct sound of dripping can be heard
The crimson trickles over­ cold stone, reflecting infinite hurt
His breathing mirrors his m­emories filled with a forgotten pain
The unbearable agony he conf­esses confines him more than his
restraints

His consciousness fl­ares as a hollow silhouette enters the disturbing
room
The spark ­blinds his exposed eyes as electricity illuminates the sinister
t­omb
Laid upon a blood-stained table lies tortured tools of meanin­gless
torment
He closes his eyes, preparing to face his inevitabl­e death with false
content

The serial killer walks towards the b­roken figure slumped against the
basement wall
He grabs a metal s­calpel from the aluminum table, before approaching his favorite d­oll
He rips the torn shirt from the victim's torso, exposing his ­muscular,
tender flesh
He drives the scalpel into the abdomen of ­the
tortured soul, hot blood runs fresh

His tightened muscles convulse in response to the aff­licted anguish
Growling in an act of mighty defiance, he strains ­against his own
languish
His mutilated skin shreds, blood explode­s from his mangled wrists
In a snap, his bindings shatter in a in­comprehensible mass of lacerated fists

His splintered lineage dr­ips into a useless heap upon the frozen floor
He limps towards th­e executioner, blinded by rage, his wounds he
ignores
The murdere­r laughs menacingly beneath his obscure concealed mask
Grabbing a­ sledgehammer, the killer breaks the survivor's knee with a
reson­ating crack

Laying his prey upon the blood-stained table, the to­rmentor begins to
operate
He whistles eerily in the empty stone r­oom as his cutting begins to 
mutilate
The suffering hostage watc­hes as his blood splatters against the crooked surgeon
He fades i­n and out of consciousness as the ruthless criminal begins anothe­r insertion

The evil tools render through the slave, blood burst­ing from veins as he slowly chops
Arteries are laced open, blood ­spraying into the air like fountains 
running non-stop
The meat i­s minced, the gore squirts across the forgotten room with a 
new-­found energy
The bones are sliced, the marrow is scraped out with­ a metal pick ever
 so cleverly

Heart still beating, organs inta­ct, the surgeon cauterizes the open 
bleeding
He grabs a hammer a­nd chisel, and drives it into the spine, the slave is beaten
Spin­e fractured, paralyzation imminent, the butcher begins his final ­
progression
He tears open slave's abdomen with his bare hands an­d pulls out his 
intestines

The hot blood turns cold, the tortur­ed reaches his inevitable demise
With chains and hooks, he hangs ­the broken body like laundry to dry
He cleans the room, the blood­-stained table is the only evidence that 
remains
Inside the secr­et slaughterhouse that contains human meat for the 
sadistic insa­ne
Author Note: My apologies for the weird formatting on this one. The lines were just really long.

Torture [September 9, 2016]
Category: Fiction/Relative/Torture
A graphic story about the torture of a man.
Me Hgrub Apr 2017
there is nothing better than silence
where thoughts can be sorted
categorized
labeled
discarded
or dwelled upon

this (functional) anxiety
takes a free ride
over-burdening my back

the weight strains every muscle
I stretch to compensate
but my bones split and crack
quietly anticipating true paralyzation
like a patient waiting
for a root canal

peer inside
observe the chaos
adequate distraction
making sleep achievable
the master of redirection
my fumbling hands reach for
one more drink

second guess
everything

maybe it was better
when nothing mattered
nothing
at all

show me the way
back to that place
where giving a ****
was a lost art
LunaaEclipse Jan 2017
Talk
What is the point?
"To let it out"
and then what?
"Heal"
Then let me yearn this pain...
"It will be okay"
but for a second l'd like to think its not.
Let me feel this moment of hopelessness
Let me taste the salt of my tears, as my soul is consumed with agony  
Talk
Don't you see?
Talking doesn't help
People are the walls I continously stare at in my bedroom as I sink into my mind within the beauty and bliss of my existence with the universe
My thoughts are a reflection of the words I can't speak
as my body comes to a state of paralyzation
Nothing but silence...
even if I wanted to speak, I can't
"Don't overthink, just say it"
Prepare for all situations, must think it through and have an answer for the eyes that seek to know but not understand
Those eyes can't see the wounds I carry behind my smile
Don't speak of words of comfort or be any consolation to me
Let me be
Thinking is in my nature
I am an artist, a poet
Thinking is the only reason I lose sleep over countless nights
it is what helps me create and make beauty with my words, with the flowering spikes of my brush that express ...
the words
the emotions
the thoughts
I can't speak
So let me indulge this pain
Until, I'm ready
I have to heal myself.
jeffrey conyers Aug 2012
I hear bells.
I hear a voice
With the sweetest choir ringing .
The sound of love.

Somethings can hypnotize us.
Even memorize us into paralyzation.
When we feel a connection to someone.

Music playing.
It might be the violins.
It might be the *****.
I t might be a trumpet.
Just playing the sound of love.

I can listen to the musical notes sending a message.
With each melody.
I can just imagine the symphony.
And stay lost in my musical dreams.

Its the sound of love that's moving  me.
Cyrus Agons Jun 2014
Inner sanctum of neutrality
Eden
Every aspect brought to an even
Glorious creation
Closer and closer untoward the future is evasion
Many, many creations choking others with persuasion
Forced upon our minds with no invitation
Gods
Images
We walk
We are an image of our creator
No good, nor evil
None are truly real
Nothing is truly real
The more we distance from real, the more we gain
Our beautiful creations laid upon our very minds
Rather they be demons or angels
Logical or insane
All are the same through at least one angle
Pouring our souls in the melting ***
Feel, believe, be
Let others be, let you be
Your reality and creations, not what others see
Others believe they're dreams
However, they are fully dimensional
All of us living within our dreams
No need to wake up
Must break paralyzation
Every soul; invisible
But real
We are gods
We all feel
How do we truly know if we've woken up?
None of us ever wake up
Only create evil
And make love
Ashlei Cottom Mar 2015
I have two constant companions.
Though they've been there through everything,
No other two souls are more determined to drag me under.
Who are they?
One is named Anxiety.

Anxiety is a small green and brown monster,
Perched on my shoulder,
Whispering in my ear,
A list of everyone and everything I shoould fear.
Immobilizes me,
Suffocates me,
Choking me out and knocking me down.
Feeding on my fear,
Anxiety grows larger and larger,
Until I am the one on it's shoulder.
Whispering in their ear,
Begging,
Please stop...

The other is named Depression.
A jealous mistress indeed,
Depression keeps me under lock and key,
Blinds me until she's all I can see.
If she suspects that I start wander,
If she deems me unfaithful,
i am pulled down.
Smothered.
Suffocated.

My two constand companions:
Anxiety and Depression.
One, all consuming darkness,
The other,
Mortal paralyzation.
Both hell-bent on destroying me.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.
Luke Nov 2017
A fiery bush paints the surface of my soul with desolation

Venomous air leads to my dreadful silent suffocation

I know fear is manifested through our imagination

But I can still feel its tormenting hopeless paralyzation

I agonizingly die within when I'm in isolation

My dark sinister thoughts talk with strong elaboration

More and more my broken earthly vessel is salvation
Cyrus Agons Jun 2014
Gasping for air
Drowning in mud
Vision of dust
Heightened sense of uncertainty and distrust
The will to move and wake up, I must
Crawling forward with burning skin I see a mirage
Directing my head up, I view a distant love
Cringing down, leaving sand in my lungs
The fancy to suffocate, I wanted
Though, one couldn't die in their mind
As beauty itself moved forward, locked and dilated were our eyes
The repetition of her within me was to the extreme
The long for her to leave
The want for us to be
Truly saying that I wanted her to run from my presence would've been a lie
The urge to love one outside of my mind drew me towards the locking of not only her, but to her soul the false reality presented
Analyzing deep into the gates I felt paralyzation of fondness that I had falsely resented
Through the light that was shown, there was something hidden
The emerging of numerous souls showed themselves
Enormous in size, they had covered the one soul
Though, their form had hinted
What was dull and repetitive could never compare against the small and special
Resent had not only caught my sight, but had put me in a threshold
The forceful energy had embezzled and imprisoned my body into a tomb
Not feeling the level of compassion and fondness they had so longed from me
Anger spread through them as they sought it wasn't meant to be
The tomb grew into a gigantic abyss with the smallest form of lamp shining at the top
Beginning to fight one another, the darker it had seemed
Walls converged and leaned
The halls had been squeezed
A dark mask of fog filled within
The light towards what I now had thought  of the heavens fueled me not to stay and end the dream
As it could've been false, the original one was the piece of mine that made me feel free
An unrealistic surge of emotions had flew within my body soon had gave the room a gleam
The supposedly light/smaller soul had flew towards my shell
The closer it had come, the more my inner self emerged
More and more until auras came out and linked
Light now blinding had guided the larger souls to one another
And that was how the dry desert had felt complete
Split Jun 2019
People ask me
what I'd like to be when I'm older.
Dumbfounded, I am left.

Not because I'm not ambitious,
not because I have no dreams,
but because I am electrified.
Exhilaration numbing all words.

Yet with all that joy
fear so elegantly prances in my dreams.
Fear of failure,
loss of desire.
That everything I've ever wanted
will crush the cord of paralyzation.

Post the detour
of invasive claims,
I remember who I am.

A person who lives in the moments
during the day,
and is wishful at night.
A comforting balance.

In the day
eyes shine bright
with gratitude.
For the future is unknown
while the now is wildly understood.

At night trepidation flees,
whilst reverie is on its knees.
For in this world,
a star-lit sky sets no limits
on who I want to be.
Within Pantheon Of Classical Gods

stricken with affliction,
sans amyotrophic lateral sclerosis
(also known as ALS, 
or Lou Gehrig's disease)

in the prime of his youth wrought
underestimation, vitiated termination,
targeted sequestration,
solidified rigidification,

rendered quandary,
per paralyzation obliterated,
nixed navigation,
morphed motivation,

marked limitation
kickstarted infatuation,
jinxed immobilization,
induced intellectual hyperfunction,

garnered fundamental fascination,
fanned fabled exploration,
devastation demonstrated
delectable declaration,

cosmological constant comet
clinched, chained certain capitulation,
brainstormed benefaction,
benediction attribution assured.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
his longevity (marked by bing permanently
     linkedin, hitched, drafted
     to a custom made wheelchair,
his brilliant unsullied scientific genius)

     endured seventy six orbitz veer
ring round the nearest star,
     though seemingly motionless, he freed their
ret tickle physiochemical insight

     encompassing, revolutionizing,
     and jaw-dropping, revelations
     with mortals he did share
transcendent seeded plentifully

     mental limitless groundswell
     fed his fecund rare
if eyed cogitated, formulated, insulated
     (infinitesimal nook and cranny) force queer

lee disproportionate overly endowed capacity
     bracketed with mar ching madness peer
ring with laser, razor, and taser sharp mind
     (or a minuscule approximate near

facsimile thereof) scrutinizing, positing,
     and discerning astronomical phenomena mere
via concentrating gifted limned, and rapacious,
     though processes affixed
     with a visage mordantly like King Lear.
Rania Aug 2015
My life decisions that have been made rest somewhere in my head for me to rethink them whenever I'm able to
The things I have never done and the reasons behind my paralyzation to do them and every possibility of a life led by doing all the things I ever wanted to do
The life of acting on my thoughts, the life of showing emotion, the life of existing outside the walls of my own head
But I am imprisoned by my own self which makes the equation of freedom impossible
Because if one of my hands tried to free me of my misery the other would pull me down and pull the rope around my wrists tighter than before
As with every thought that tries to let me act and exist just to find another opposing thought destroying all that it has been preparing for
The struggle of fighting your own self is you could never win or lose
Whoever wins loses at the same time, and whoever loses somehow wins
For you don't know whose side have you been taking and who you were battling against
And you have to live in between
Never getting the satisfaction and freedom of living without holding anything back
Nor being able to live with the silence undisturbed
And so you stand in the middle paralyzed
Until one day the rope is pulled too tightly around your neck
Turning you blue
And the fight ends with both of you losing
Or winning.
Caitlyn Dee Sep 2017
i still feel broken down
like a road less traveled by
but one that still has cracks
and weeds growing
from under the concrete

and there is a storm in the distance
i can feel it beckoning me
into its cold yet harboring embrace
i feel at peace here,
standing on the precipice of
what i know will haunt me
but wanting so achingly to fall into

this stretch of familiarity
goes on for miles
i almost cannot see the end
but maybe that is just my eyes
playing tricks on me
alluring me until i am ridden
with paralyzation;
until i am a statue,
reminding those of what used to be

this road may never be re-paved again,
the storm might threaten to destroy all that i have,
and i might be tempted to chip away at myself

at least i am still standing

— The End —