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Arianna Darshani Sep 2015
Im not a good poet but I want to get this off my chest.
Maybe this is too much of a blog. If so, I am sorry.
Nobody has to read it!
I don't mean to misuse this service or to make anyone mad.
I am just not good at poetry
But I believe my words have a rhythm to them.

This is a long and boring post.
Making this post is part of my healing
Even if nobody reads it.

I met a psychopath, I don't use that term lightly
He had been in prison for ****** against his 7 year old daughter
A monster and what most people often call a baby ******.

What was wrong with me, that I did not bolt away like a wild horse?
What made me stay? Is it my Tao to be in their spell forever?
I mean the pedophiles that abused me now forty years ago?

How could I have blocked out his crime?
Where was my outrage for the victim?

He is in Seattle, I am in Minneapolis
But we played cards for 7 months
When he showed me his hand,
I suddenly realized who and what he was.
And I was struck with a sense of horror.

Psychopaths are always charming, at first.
They fool a lot of people. He fooled me.
And I can't get over it.

I broke free, galloped away, but had irreversible damage.
I could not eat or sleep. I was on edge.
I felt polluted, I felt ashamed, I felt gullible
It is why I have the diagnosis of PTSD
because my entire childhood was filled
To the rafters with abuse and this psychopath
Touched upon that in a major way.
They call it a "Trigger" in psychology.

I thought I had burned that house down
But my naïveté and poor boundaries led me
From the paradise of my home
To this psychopath's perverse thinking.
What a sick *******.
I can't even describe
how perverse it got towards the end
So I won't even bother.
Why dwell on a psychopaths sick mind?

I was very sick and in a crisis for ten days
When I broke it off with him.

My last email to him was that,
God is real and that he is going to Hell.
He excuses his behavior with
Bible verses.
That's not going to help him
On judgement day.
He also will suffer karma until
He learns his lesson.
Prison was not enough to teach him

Im starting to sit back and take in the lesson
I've decided that for my own safety
I need to get a lot more paranoid because
Baby rapists and evil people do exist
And I have no radar and no set of boundaries.
Because I was abused so much as a child.

I downloaded an App that lists all
The ****** predators near your home
There are a lot of them and some look like
Your average guy, like the pedophiles who abused me.
Nobody next store but in Osceola, 5 minutes away.

And what about Jared Fogel? Is everyone a pervert?
Why do adult ( mostly men ) need to sexualize children?

I am restricting my easy going temperament
He took what was left of my innocence.
My heart is healing and I have vowed
Not to let him or his sickness
To ruin my good temperament.
Nor my Peace of Mind.

Lastly, I realize that it was by the Grace of God
That I found a loving husband
A man who truly cares, truly loves
In a way I never felt as a child.

As an abuse survivor, the statistics
For me to find a suitable relationship
were slim.
But my mother always told me
To respect myself.

But here we are, 31 years together
Or what my science mind calls
60% of our lives. We are 53.

I don't know how I found "the one"
A broken heart is so visceral and
With so much angst that I feel fortunate
That I've been spared that experience.

We met in Martial Arts class
I had met him at age 19 and he asked me out
I took him up on that offer when we were 22
I worked for my black belt in Tae Kwon Do
He was working on his 2nd degree blackbelt
We trained together for many hours
We hung out.
Ha ha, our first date was to see
The Karate Kid! Also plenty of Bruce Lee!
My husband began martial arts because
Of Bruce Lee.
I started martial arts for self defense
Having been abused by so many men
Made me want to never happen again.

Nice trip down memory lane
Back to the psychopath.
I don't have children and
I am not around any children.

I went to the State Fair, and saw some girls
Only 7 years old, like the psychopath's daughter
When he started his predation on her.  
I felt physically ill that a child of that age
Would have to deal with a grown man
And her father, on too of that.
It is beyond imagination.
I was abused at age 11 and 7 seems
Awfully young. Poor girl.

I felt a sense of nausea when looking at these little girls
That I had befriended a ****** perpetrator
Entirely negating his victims experience.
What was I thinking?

I feel almost like I am guilty because I associated with him.
I feel horrible that I had any relationship
With such a dark and bleak soul.

God bless his daughter out there somewhere
She is now in her 20s
His children are in their 20s and I think
When he has grandchildren he might re offend
I need to stop this and have decided
To contact CPS, and write a letter of concern
Every six months until he has grandchildren

It's the very least I can do.
I've taken a personal interest and
I vow to protect his future grandchildren
From ******, a crime he is not sorry about
He has no remorse, he does not repent
And in that way he can reoffend

Let me go back to my life now
It is almost Fall
And the trees will be brilliant
Thank God, that I realize
I need to out much tighter boundaries
Around myself because being gullible
Is going to get me killed

Thankfully I am not being stalked
Thankfully my life is not in danger
Thankfully we live half a continent away

Let me hold my husband's hand
Let me remember what's important
Let me remember that Im safe
Let me recover from the emotions
Of horror and dread, that have kept me
From eating and sleeping.

Im a bit of a yogini
And I do yoga Nidra
I do meditation
I take refuge in Buddha
I have a faith in Christ
These things all help.

Let the heavens forgive me
For ever getting involved
With a psychopath and for not
Giving his daughter's abuse
A second thought.

This has altered my personality
I am now an activist for victims
Of childhood violence.

I will hear their voices in a way
That is healthy and safe.

Safe. A good place to be!

If you've made it to the end of
This post, I give you my sincere
Thanks and if you did not read my post
I also give you thanks.

~Arianna
Thom Jamieson Nov 2018
I read an article in the news this week,
It was about profiling corporate bigwigs
And the shocking conclusion,
That the vast majority of these pigs at the trough of good fortune
Are psychopaths, a statistically significant majority,
Like eighty percent,
This tweaked my curiosity and so I did a bit of research,
And I learned that a psychopath is someone
who experiences life differently,
they experience all of the positive emotions,
Love, happiness, comradery, all of it.
But they’re wired differently,
When it comes to the sad, bad, mad times.
They don’t feel the way most humans do,
They feel detached from these things
They tend to deal with things of this nature
From a logical and removed perspective,
And this is where the road forks.
Ethical, moral, love-based pychopaths
Release the tension, resulting from the conflict
That arises from this, (aka wow I’m a freak)
through healthy
Or at least, socially-acceptable methods
Others, unfortunately dispose of it,
through darker, more nefarious means
Today, I started to wonder if I’m a psychopath,
Not the hack them, slash them maniac you see on film
The ones that just don’t feel like other people.
I was reading a book about self-realization,
About dropping preconceived inhibitions
Quieting the mind,
And finding “the silence within the silence” as they say,
I started to consider this,
I thought back to my transformation in August of seventeen
I moved from subject to passive observer,
I substituted love for fear, in every corner of my life,
And I found the silence, perhaps just a glimpse,
But it was so beautiful, it impressed upon me
An entirely new disposition,
As a passive observer, I’ve been able
To see myself much more clearly
When you look at yourself from a standpoint,
That leads you to recognize that in fact
There is no you at all, only your perception
And in fact, even perception
Consciousness, the core of experience
Is an illusion in and of itself.
An illusion nurtured by
The confines of society
Because at the level of atoms and molecules
We really all are
Intertwined and indistinguishable
And these tiny points of perception
That we think of as us
Are actually one
As though a block of energy
Was slammed through a cheese grater
And from this perspective,
and the Fear/love paradigm,
I find myself alone,
Alone, and happy,
Possibly,
For
The first-time
Ever.
Today, I started to wonder if I’m a psychopath.
And though I’m not wishing for the way it was
I do wish
I had a friend,
a sounding-board so to speak
Who knows me as well
As the one that I have hurt, and who has hurt me
To really help me decide,
Is this an epiphany,
Or insanity
A middle-aged crazy man
Writing words no one will ever read
Either way, I suppose
You can look from one of two sides
From the loss, and the sadness
The love and respect for the past
Or from the perspective of freedom,
Growth,
And doing what you were put
In this crazy world to do
Today, I started to wonder if I’m a psychopath,
At one point this afternoon
I realized I hurt in my entirety
My body, head to toe
My heart, because I am alone
Self-chosen,
But still alone
And my soul because
I don’t feel the way other people do
I won’t hurt anyone else
At least not on purpose
But every inch of me hurts
Every,
Inch.
And yet, even the sadness I feel
In waves,
By no means all the time,
But when it hits,
It hits hard,
I realize this too is a bad habit at best,
And an illusion at worst
What growth can come,
From pining for the past
Or any attachment for that matter
Because those things
That we can’t stop ourselves from doing
That arise from mind
Such as regret, or loss
Or guilt
Are bad-habits,
illusions
That serve absolutely nothing
But to teach, and move on
To how you might
Make the reality that is now
The best it can be,
For everybody,
Even me!
Today, I started to wonder if I’m a psychopath.
#****** #psychopath #love #awakening #enlightenment #truth #perception #illusion #avidya #attachment
Vicki Cheek Feb 2015
They will bombard you with love and tell you what you want to hear.
They will tell you that they are your soulmate and that you have nothing to fear.

They will do or say anything to get what they desire.
They become quite adept at being a smooth liar.

Keep in mind that if it sounds too good to be true,
Listen to your gut instinct – it’s trying to protect you.

They will torture you with triangulation and convince you that you are the crazy one.
Then they will devalue and discard you when they have used you up and they are done.

They count on the fact that you will keep giving them the benefit of the doubt.
They are actually reeling you in but you are so confused you haven’t quite figured it out.

They are pure evil - do not fall for their lies.
Sooner or later their mask will slip and you will see through their disguise.

They will make you miserable – you will tell yourself this is not how you behave when you love someone,
But you will never make them see it that way because to them it’s just a way of having fun.

You will start to realize when their true self begins to show,
But keep your guard up because you never know how far they will go.

They call it emotional **** and that is exactly how you will feel.
You will soon understand the love you thought you had wasn’t ever real.

Then they will move on to the next victim and leave you alone.
Don’t beat yourself up – just hope they stay gone.

They have no conscience, no remorse and you are just a pawn in their sick little game.
Once you have been the target of a psychopath, you will never be the same.

A psychopath’s bond is a hard thing to break,
But you have to be strong for your own sake.

Everyone has come into contact with a psychopath at some point in their life.
It could easily have been your mother, your father, your husband or your wife.

We have all probably been victims of a psychopath but some of us just never knew,
Until you start reading the information about them then you will know it’s true.

Being fooled and falling in love with a psychopath is very easy for me to see.
I know firsthand the horror of it all because, yes, it happened to me.

V. Cheek
9/04/2014
Come to the Psychopath's Junction
For a time you may never forget;
We've got mystery and ****** and mayhem,
For some hours that you'll never regret.

Come to the Psychopath's Junction
We have tours and stories to chill;
And we'll push you down steps to the basement,
And there we'll forcefeed you some swill.

Come to the Psychopath's Junction
Where we have all new torture devices,
And we'll tie you up, and then use them on you;
And won't have to think about it twice.

Come to the Psychopath's Junction
Where we'll do terrible things just to you;
And if you survive and miraculously escape-
You can invite your friends to come too!
An open invitation, to an elite society of rugged individualists
harmony crescent Nov 2016
i am a psychopath
i am the queen of terrifying confidence
i am a minipulator of truth
and lies
because i
am a psychopath
who has her eyes set
on the way she should be
on the reasons behind what they think about her
hurt
it swirls around inside yet i dont feel it
it scrapes away at the walls of my heart
which should be painful
why not
because i am a psychopath
Devon Baker Aug 2011
Sickly might,
cravens and craving demon drooling bite.
That fleshly flaunt of fool and privilege,
he burned to smoldering.
Lapped his blood from crowned jewel
and corroded golden spires.
The lost cadaver,
pride driven manicured demon of self
driven greed and godly hunger.
Such as fiendish that ******,
the sulfured serpent,
tis a sickened beast in dread black suit,
raffled in silken red tie
it's but the psychopath's blood smeared human hide.
Crave the flesh,
tear and splatter the soul from within,
fiends of fantastically practiced to perfect parallel smiles.
They'll slip your soul from the bars of your throat,
reap every inch of the body's hold.
Steal friendships to lips,
lives to hips,
slurp the killing,
seize the blind weeping cold.
You've got nothing not to be swept and stole.
Soulless has a studded luster,
but the ****** socio bleeds liquid sins,
bears fangs plastic wrapped in blades,
human game is the psychopath's *******.
Talia Nov 2018
Mister psychopath
I can see through your facade,
faking innocence.

You want to hurt me,
tear me apart limb by limb,
to bathe in my blood.

to make me suffer,
it would make you laugh once more.
stay away from me!

Mister treachery,
you're a wolf in sheep's clothing,
you're not who you seem.

manipulating,
only using charm and wit?
that won't work again.

I'll overthrow you,
because you're no longer king!
I, the queen, mean war.
Sita Alaska Feb 2014
is just a word used
to describe me.
You don’t look
long enough at me to really
see though.

I didn’t laugh when I realized
what I was.
It wasn’t new, I knew
how my mind worked.
The word wasn’t new either.
Just the label of being a
psychopath.

The insanity of my sanity
has long since made me
comfortable relaxed amused by my
wild
untamable
uncaring traits.

Who I am
what I am-
it taunts me so dearly,
never leaving my mind.

Resting in the crooks
corners
nooks
that my mind has available.
SexySloth Jun 2013
I want to be a psychopath.

It is so thrilling, the thought.

One day I'll rule the world

And **** people and never get caught.
Saira Ellyzabeth Oct 2012
Slipping away.
Falling through walls
that are closing in.
Keeping out her only true friends.
Losing herself
in the worlds she created.
Faded.
An empty vessel
moving way to fast.
Getting caught up in the past.
As horrid as it may be.
She could have been free.
She could have been safe.
The baby was saved
before it was too late.
She was molded
and shaped
and adored.
Loved more by her fake parents
than any other baby in the world.
By them she was warned
of the mistakes she could make
that would seal her fate
to that of crazy and suffering.
Ignorance is bliss.
So is said.
But not in this case
her ignorance lasts
and turns her into
a psychopath.
storm siren Sep 2016
Here it goes again,
Here it comes again,
The articles about
Psychopaths
And the accusatory tone
Twisting behaviors
Twisting actions
To sound toxic
To sound dangerous
To stamp a big red label on my skin,
Screaming
"AVOID THIS ONE AT ALL COSTS"

While I sit and weep.

But these articles
Blog posts
People fleeing from me
Left and right
Are lies, right?

Tell me, please,
Tell me,
Someone?

My anxiety and need to be reassured
Roots from my PTSD,
And my neediness and wants for attention
Is normal for my upbringing,
Right?

And writing poem after poem
About how much I care for you,
And making playlists
With songs in it
That make me think of you,
Is just a sign that I care,
Right?

I don't want to be
A psychopath.
I don't  want to be
A toxic person,
I don't understand
How telling someone you love them,
Is bad?

But these articles say that showering someone
In constant attention and praise
Means you're a psychopath.

And these blog posts
Are telling me that poems and gifts and music,
All means you're selfish and unfeeling.

But I don't want to be,
I care so much, I love you so much.

I'm afraid
Of who I am.
Satan Dec 2010
Paul Johnson was a mad psychopath.
He had killed hundreds of women in his life all by himself.
He never used any tools to ****. He barehandedly killed those women.

His ex-girlfriend was the reason why he killed.
She had ran away with his brother leaving him hurt so bad like crazy.
His ex-girlfriend was a beautiful blonde.

He chased them for years.
When he found them he brutally killed them.
He mutilated the poor girl into little slices.
He beheaded and castrated his brother.
Then he cast their remains into fire.
Ever since then he had never stopped killing.

His victims were always women aged between 25 and 30.
They're always blonde and blue-eyed.
He strangled them all with his hands before he buried them in his basement.

One day he mistakenly killed a brunette who was wearing a blonde wig and .
He was so startled that he stopped killing and soon after hanged himself

His mother was a beautiful brunette.
Thomas Newlove Jul 2015
Today at the train station

A stranger came up to me

And asked for directions.

I had the sudden urge to give him the wrong ones

Or take him behind the stairwell and

Gut him

And let his family watch as stomach and liver

Flobber out over slipping intestines, or simply

Grab him and throw him onto the train tracks

As the half five train approaches.

It would give people a reason to

Remove their sunglasses,

And possibly even their iPods,

Headphones dangling uncomfortably

As they fumble to save a pointless

(As well as futile) situation.

Maybe they would film it with their phones.

Maybe I'd be famous.

Instead I just sigh and give him the right directions,

Tell him the correct train to travel on,

And slowly smile as he waddles off

And doesn't believe me.
Sacrelicious Mar 2012
Life is a movie and men are really actors.
Some get the lead role, while others are just extras.
It's a hierarchy,
you got the over zealous ****** on top and ******* below.
If you can sell your soul, you'll make headlines.
Get paid.
Buy a steak or something.
Care only about yourself and **** everybody else over, in whatever position you'd like ;)
.Fight ***** or don't fight at all.
Sucker punch the Devil for trickin' you and book it.
Run, run fast, like the cops  are after you.
****'s about to go down.
It's Irony, in his emmy winning role!
Shameful that "The laws" are just dyslexic interpretations of petty rules anyways.
Use logic, not obedience
Eleanor Rigby Sep 2015
I totally adore
How you blend in the crowd
But when we're alone
You become you.


-- Eleanor
Briana4545 Aug 2013
Yeah, you said it,
And maybe you meant it.
I’m sorry I can’t forget it,
But do you even regret it?
I sincerely doubt it,
Although I’m not mad about it.
I’m trying to move past it.
I just want to move past it.
Once I saw a butterfly
It was pretty and red
It felt kinda funny
The smile on my face
And it only grew
I brought that butterfly
And it was you
Butterflies or ******?
Diana Iriz Oct 2014
I’m on the verge of killing everyone
So there won't be an excuse
For no one to love me
(I'd **** you if I could
But *******
I'm addicted to the life in your eyes)
sheri May 2015
Folds, fur, creases and greases on your clothes
Have you had a nice breakfast?
No, no, it doesn't seem so.
You've had a bad day since you've risen from your bed.
Your hands are shaking and don't even notice it,
Probably because of the nicotine hidden in the left pocket of your jacket.
Ahh! Shut up! You were thinking! It's annoying!
Get out! Get out! I need to go to my mind palace!
Also, if you think that I'm a psychopath,
I'm just a high-functioning sociopath.
With your number! -smiles-

Oh, John Watson? You've got a limp from your last war from Afghanistan.
Your hand stays steady when you're suspicious or feel like you're being threatened.
Hmm, you like the battlefield, don't you, John?
Ahh, you can be my colleague! Come on, John!
Wait, what? Who are you?
The name's Sherlock Holmes and I live on 221B Baker Street.
And, I'm a consulting detective who uses,
*The Science of Deductions
A quick-written poem just for fun.
Satan Dec 2010
Erzsébet Crow is so happy. Her date is going to pick her up at 7. They're going to have a romantic dinner together.
She's been walking around in the living room for 30 minutes.
''Maybe he's not coming. Maybe he's changed his mind'' says she.
''No, sweetheart. He will come'' says her mother.
''i think you should go out with Ted. His father has killed more than three hundred people'' says her father while focusing on his reading.
Erzsébeth pouts at him.
''Dad! Ted is a *****. He wouldn't even **** a dog''.
Mrs.Crow smiles at her daughter.
''Erz tell us about this boy you're going out for a **** with'' asks she.
Erz shyly smiles back at her mother.
''Okay. Do not tell anyone. His name is Zoe. And he killed Mr.President last night. He slipped a grenade in his car when nobody was looking''.
''He did??????'' screams Mrs.Crow.
Erz nods happily. But her father doesn't seem impressed.
''Oh Dad, what???'' asks she.
Mr.Crow glances at Erz curiously.
''Erz honey,i was the one who's supposed to **** Mr.President.''
Erz pouts at him again.
''Dad please be happy for me for once in your life. I've found a really great killer boy who would mutilate a thousand bodies for me''.
Mr.Crows frowns at his upset daughter.
''Erzie, i'd be happy for you if---For God's sake!!!!!!!!'' Lucifer, Erz's pittbull suddenly jumps into his lap. To his surprise the dog got a rotten juicy severed hand in his mouth.
''Oh poor Mrs.Henderson'' exclaims Mr.Crow.
''Mrs.Henderson???? My english teacher????'' shouts Erz.
''Why did you **** her????'' asks Erz, surprised.
''She drove me mad with her questions about the blood stain she found on your shoes'' says Mr.Crow.
''Henry!!!!! How could you!!??? You killed our daughter's favorite teacher'' thunders Mrs.Crow.
Mr.Crows shakes his head ''Hey at least i didn't **** your headmaster. He's such a pain in the ****. If i had you would have had to skip your classes till they found a new one for the position''.
''where did you bury her??'' Mrs.Crow asks her husband.
''The garage''.
''Oh God! Not the garage. Our smarty pants neighbour Mrs.Clayton will smell the stench and finds out and then i will have to **** her before that poor old woman runs to the police'' shouts Mrs.Crow.
''Oh Elizabeth you're just exaggeratting'' protests Mr.Crow.
Suddenly there's a knock on the door.
''Oh it must be Zoe!'' says Erz.
Mrs.Crow looks so happy. She holds her daughter tight.
''Here'' says she, handing Erz a knife ''if he tries to do anything you don't like, just stab him in the heart with this''.
Erz rolls her eyes ''Mom, i can take care of myself. I can rip his ***** out with my own hands''. Mrs.Crows giggles as she opens the door for Zoe.
''Hi Mr and Mrs.Crow!'' greets the boy politely.
''Hi! Okay have fun you guys. Remember, do not **** in exposed places. Hide the body well and leave no blood trails'' warns Mrs.Crow.
Mr.Crow forces himself to give a brief smile before he says ''Okay, Zoey. I want you to bring my daughter home in one piece. If you try to do anything i do not like to her, i'll rip your heart out and eat it, and then i pull your ***** off and give them to my dog'' Lucifer barks his yes.
Mr and Mr.Crow watch their daughter walk away with her first date. They know their little girl has now turned into a big psychopath girl.
Mohab Essam Oct 2013
Insomniac as he turned.. A murderer he became
With so little to be done at night.. A new hobby has been gained
Slaying throats of fainted shrieks.. With the slightest pity and a merciless shame
Hoarding victims of ill-fated fate.. He came to acquire a notorious name
Dark in soul yet bright in mind.. Causing suffering, suffering pain
Cross his path, no one shall.. For he will rip your skeletal frame
Pray for mercy to the mighty Lord.. All your prayers are lost in vain
Call him a sick, *******.. For ****** is his middle name
No guns of lead, or shots and loads.. A single knife and a bleeding vein
Lock in stare and know for sure.. Your days are out and your time has came
Kate Lion Sep 2014
***
I need to go running

to Pluto


I HATE EVERYTHING WITH A ****** PASSION


Just because I used to be a desperate psychopath

Doesn't mean I'm still a desperate psychopath

I AM A PERFECTLY RATIONAL HUMAN BEING

WHY ARE YOU BREATHING LIKE THAT GET OUT OF MY FACE

WAAAAAAAAAAAAit.
Come bAAAAAAAAAck.

I'M nOt The pRoblEm

I've changed

I mean

I thOuGht I did

Until I rEaliZeD that
EvErYOne iS A FREAKING IDioT
Aric Wheeler May 2013
Our eco-friendly toothbrushes sit together in the cup on the counter but today I didn’t brush my teeth. The snow is great. Want to know why, because the snow doesn’t give a **** how anybody else feels and it doesn’t ***** its feelings all over twitter. The snow knows that nobody cares.

The snow never says “anyways” or “whatever” or “oh god”  and the snow doesn’t undermine what I have to say. The snow is cold and it *****, but at least it doesn’t question me. It doesn’t ask me if I need space. Nope. It just keeps snowing.

The snow and I are on good terms. It isn’t polite and it doesn’t try to be anything that it is not. It doesn’t cook barley with kale and it definitely doesn’t pretend to like it.
Vicki Cheek Jan 2016
You smile
and mentally
slip on your disguise.

You smile
as you look deeply
into their trusting eyes.

You smile
and put into words
all the things they want to hear.

You smile
with a voice
that sounds so incredibly sincere.

You smile
while reveling in the fact
they do not have a clue.

You smile
because you know
they do not see the malevolent you.

You smile
so clever, so witty
in addition, pour on the charm.

You smile
since you have them convinced
you mean them no harm.

You smile
and begin to lose sight
of what is reality and what is a lie.

You smile
at your power
to always make them cry.

You smile
as you continue to play
not caring it is a sick, twisted little game.

You smile
knowing that when you are through
you will not even remember their name.

You smile
as you realize
you own them body and soul.

You smile
at their ignorance thinking to yourself
“You fool, how could you not know?”

You smile
as you continue *******
every bit of life out of them.

You smile
as you zoom in on and start stalking
your next impending victim.

You smile
as you move on
feeling no guilt or remorse and certainly without a care.

You smile
as you take all your ill-gotten gains
with you back to your lair.

You smile
with conceit and arrogance,
“This is a game I always win.”

You smile
and laugh aloud assured,
that you will get away with it again.

You smile ……….
Kagami Nov 2013
Silent crackle, tingle,
The smell of a sticky must. Floating dust in
An abandoned attic, where the rats roam and the dead skeleton of a fish
Still lies in an empty bowl of moldy rocks and plastic plants.
Yet, despite the emptiness, a girl curls up in the corner, black
Running down her face as she weeps for the things she longs for most.
She looks out the *****, broken window at the cloudy sky and imagines it
Blue. The brightest of skies with only few hints of cirrus.
A blanket on the ground and the man she loves, nothing else in sight.
The expanse of green in her head is contrasted to the rotting floorboards she lays
On, dreaming. The steady beat of Boy in Static thrumming through her headset
As she struggles not to scream and jump, finishing the job on the window
From troubled teens years before. The sound reminds her of VHS tapes,
Press rewind, take a turn and start over. But she can't, when something has changed.
The boy she knew, looking down with his hood not up, but covering his face, shielding
Himself from her. She knew he had a ***** in his head, but she just looked away. He never answered anything she asked. He was unable.
But her heart still dropped, she smiled her best. An amazing actress, fooling everyone, makeup allergy keeping her eyes dry. She just read Huck Finn as though nothing was wrong.
Now she sits in her room, writing and shaking her head. This line is not right.
Her walls were full of color and poetry, but her mind kept wandering to that attic.

She was there again. Blankly staring at her star charm anklet. A simple blue ribbon.
And the throbbing of her heartbeat through that one spot on her thumb,
That pressure point that hurts more than anything. But one thing could be worse.
Being left. Just like the broken rocking horse in the corner and the baby's cradle
Lined with blue silk that was shoved into a box. That baby is probably dead. Just like all
Of the others who lived there, burned by the fire. Goose flesh raises, prickly
Hairs on her legs from a week of no shaving. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. Bleed.
Change the song. Bleed Like Me. Perfect. She draws on the peeling walls, two hundred
Years of wallpaper and lead paint, chalk barely leaving a mark. She sketches a masterpiece.
A child that she wishes she could have. Impossibly too young, but still...
A daughter she could raise better than her mother raised her. A chance to do something right.
More than the mechanic life she has lead, empty and useless.
Confused and pathetic. Like the broken grandfather clock that ticks backwards.
Three, two, one.
Ding-****, ****-ding. Grandfather never taught me anything. He was not a wise man.
He was a fool. Knew too much and too little, no room to know what was right.
She let another raindrop escape and suddenly it began to pour. Lightning crashes as a glass
Slipper collides with the picture drawn of her dream. Thunder as she releases a
Bloodcurdling scream. "Why!?"
Why her? The pain in her back is unbearable. She slouches too much, and her eyes burn.
She is not Cinderella; her ball gown does not glitter.
Piano is her least favorite instrument, but it somehow gets to her. Small hammers
Striking her heart strings, low notes reminding her of his voice and the soft, feminine
Voices radiating, remind her of when she was young... Immortal. She has aged since then.
Too quickly. Her entire life has been a masquerade ball. Unskilled idiots dancing
Around her and stepping on her toes. Shouldering her in the stomach,
Breaking her ribs. Beats of music guide her skilled toes, swerve around falling raindrops that
Her own eyes emit. And she crashes through the floor of that dismal attic. Broken free,
But she is still trapped. The walls are charred down here.

But the walls are not painted black. They were once a mint color, green and cheerful, healthy.
Until a psychopath lit a match.
"I didn't mean to do it." It was all in her head. The house.
She set it aflame.

She sits in her room, writing and shaking her head. This line is not right.
Her walls were full of color and poetry. It isn't worth it to stare. Nothing will change.
She is still just a girl in a glass box, being stared at and judged. Trapped and ridiculed because her eyes bleed and bless the onlookers with bad luck. It's amazing the things
That people don't know. Drifting deeper into a pit of endless darkness. A candle won't
Live down here. No oxygen to let it breathe. But one lit self portrait hangs in the air.
Years ago, drawn in pencil. Symbolic, it wants to be erased. To die.
And the ******* the page is wearing a mask. The girl in the parchment is me.
Medium length hair and a tear painted, permanent. A Parasite. Capitalized for its meaning.

A demon is running through me, singeing
My tissues, blisters on the insides of my bones. Swelled up, show through
My skin. Waves on a shore. But I am not a beach. A ***** maybe...
Still, I hate it. The hate killed whatever flowers I had left planted in my mind.
Tainted me with the horrible visions of a tear streaked face of paper mâché.
She was the one in the attic. Her whole persona
Wilted and ashen, grey. A silent movie might mask it; the hurt, I mean.
The grey lines on the screen hiding the bags under her eyes and the redness of her nose,
Get rid of the twinkling shards of glass frozen on her cheek from crying in the dead of winter.
Slip up once, and everything goes to hell. Well, I must have slipped years before I was born.
Few smiles are left on this dismal timeline. And I shall use them wisely. But, for now,
I think I will just weep, sleep forever and hope that you don't give up on me and pull the plug.
I am still here somewhere, just dormant. Please wake me up. Get me out of this charred cabin,
This glass box. Pull me out of my warped sense of everything, teach me again what
Love feels like. I have forgotten amidst everything that I have felt and remembered.
There is no more room for things to be learned. Only for things to be repaired.
I will give you a hammer. Come inside and fix me; that ***** in your head couldn't have taken your knowledge away. You are the only one that knows.

Use this never ending lightning and bring your bride to life.
blackmarketcat Nov 2014
I love to be an octave above
you're off key

I sing in spite of the slow pain
of everything


there's something terribly wrong
with the way the letters spread over these notes
dance

I feel lost in the sea
it devours meaning
and life
alike

to sing about it anyways
the style all of my poetry stole away
you could never be a poet
you move too quickly,
you're always happy,
always erupting,
you claim to read poetry,
I don't believe you for a second
and you tell me that you love me
when I've done nothing
I haven't been beautiful,
I haven't shown you any of my pearls
I am nothing

baby is the smog in the sky
always elated, always growing,
always obscuring everything I truly love more
and more.

truly, I don't know what to make of this.

human psychology is a *****.
Nicholas Fogle Aug 2015
I play with fire
And I dance with Death
A twirl and a spin and a blade swings recklessly.

"Do you not care about others ", they ask consecutively.
"Do you think before you act", they ask disrespectfully.

My own reality an asylum
My mind makes liberal
My words can change you or me

"Your words are absent " , they'll disagree
"You make no sense", they'll only see

To much to handle like a crushing bridge
Bounds break like broken ribs
Without either things cease to exist
I walked upon a borderline path
I can't decipher , am I  a Psychopath
Tommy Johnson Jan 2015
The Cut-up cut out and cut down The Middle man then cut in while he and his date were dancing
He tried to strike up a conversation but struck out when she struck down upon him blows of reigning rejection

Now The Psychopath and The Sociopath are at odds

The Psychopath thinks The Sociopath is sloppy and his ideas have no longevity

The Sociopath thinks the Psychopath is just having growing pains and need to learn to live a little

The Psychopath was born into this, but the Sociopath was born onto it

The onset of calculated impulses

Contain yourself
Control yourself

Looking at it from an ethnocentric point of view
Entertain the idea that you may be the antisocial one
Humor me on this one
Would a smart person waste hard earned money on an "I'm with Stupid" t-shirt?

Postulate the theory that their are six degrees of separation
That you are a few hellos to someone who is a friend of a friend every way you turn
And that person may or may not rupture the cycled path you've been treading

Told to be prompt
To have good posture
To do regular pruning to our appearances and keep them up
But price and participation always vary

Is it a tad underwhelming or did I speak too soon?
Was it lost in translation?
It's called acorn theory

Not what you came with
Not where you came to
Or even where you come from
But what you came as
And will continue on to be

The hustle and bustle
Packing heat
Flexing muscle
In the big bad city
Zoe Sue May 2014
You held me between barbed wire teeth
With ******'s tongue
You knew I couldn't leave
To the collected dust that was my former being
You told me so each day
When my eyes seemed to wander to the person I could've been
Could be?
Unreturned calls of friends
Forgotten faces
Lost and found you
Radio static numbness
I am yours
Forever
LovelyBones Mar 2015
I'm victim to your poison
I've survived your every test
You've ripped me open piece by piece
And disturbed my rest
I'm addicted to your touch
And addicted to your love
I miss your bright and shining eyes
Reflecting from above
Your words they burned like fire
But your silence is what kills
The very thought of losing you
Down my spine sends chills
You told me I was special
You told me you were there
The worst part was
That for awhile you really seemed to care
I never meant to love you
I don't want to be done
I wanted you to save me
But you handed me a gun
I know it's really similar to my last poem but I like this one more.

— The End —