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It seemed the space between us became torn and
Profoundly distanced....................

Jamming bony knuckles and spread eagled fingers,
Lying their mapped out journey.....direction on point patrol....
Adorned by silver decoration, delighting in their skinned habitat
Shafted, deceit punching the recipient of the poison digits
Prodding and pushing their intent....dare you contradict
The intended carved out dose of punishment, Risk and
Safety......not yours and never would be; stooped
Down under the assailing bony palmed attachements
That delivered penetrating power, cupped around
Your arm til it became discoloured, pressure points
Backed you into a corner, up against the grain of the
Brick wall, cold and damp, the odour reaching
And scolding your nostrils with its stale internal vows
Refuse, stretching and protruding its foul remnents
An earlier life, when you were not under threat fades
Your very existance in jeopardy, your eyes pleaded for
Normality, willing someone to hear your silence, grip you
Tightly, not with malice, but with bravery and valour
Right now you need that shining knight, that white
Horse galloping down the blind alleyway, yet you
Know that won't happen for you're already sinking
To the floor, the blow comes sharp and stings, warmth
Exudes and trickles a path downwards, leaving your
Body, finding the cold concrete beneath you, travelling
Outwards................
Ryan Bowdish Aug 2010
I carried her into my house
And I didn't want to wake her
So I carefully ripped her blouse
And removed her rare fur.
I was hungry for pleasure
So I ripped everything else away,
Opened her up and loved her
The tears in my eyes eating me away.

Suddenly, I nearly jumped a mile
When she slowly opened her eyes
And she grunted and they grew wide
So I held her words inside.
Quickly, I showed her my fist
And she replied by softening up
I remember that I was ******
And stopped early, for I was drunk.

She thought her ride was done
And I could see she wanted more
For she was crying to the set sun
But I had none to give her
So I had her sit still and quiet
And went across the hall to
The kitchen, grabbed the knife
And came back to the dark room

The skin was begging for my bite
I decided I had to make it right
And her heart was velvet in the night
Her blood had a taste of great heights.
I was done now, and so was she
But the remnents were a sad sight
So I threw them in and let them freeze
And smelled her soul in the night.
Um... I'm not a ******. Just from the viewpoint of one.
paige elliott Aug 2013
the tendencies creep back
like the sun at dawn-
truly numb and
passive to their cries
they fall to the cold floor
limp and dull and quiet
leaking from new orifices
and taking their light with them
while my head spins
a complicated tapestry
on a broken loom
red string
angry and burning
screaming with no end
in the dark while i
cling to fleeting feelings
and clean
the remnents of theirs
with a snap i'm sent tumbling
struggling
can't find
air water food shelter
my head pounds
my eyes ablaze
and skin tight across
my eyes and temples
when the light hits
it's over and i
awake-
numb
Toni Cezeal Oct 2012
I dreamed a dream
but forgot as i woke
and the remnents linger on in my soul
I grab hold of the snippets
the small little pieces
Weaving them to make it seem whole
but quickly i see
its not meant to be
my patching and sewing’s in vain
Closing my eyes
walking in faith
Hoping the dream will live again.
Ben Skross Apr 2014
One night you let me borrow your sweater and i still feel it on me and i still smell your scent and i think i melted and the remnents are still trying to put themselves together
Michael John Aug 2017
i loved buk* from the get-go
thank you lizzie from norway
do not lose them *******
you would say..

notes of a ***** old man
and factotem-
i remember them..
through him i liked poetry..

some may say adolescent
but he made so love..
and in post office
when an alsation

smells his ****,
we are all transported
to heaven..!
he threatened his audience..

who the hell is tom jones..

ii

well,lizzie, i lost them..
and losing borrowed books
were we in hell..
i lent them to some one who

swore the same..i hear your laugh!
he had a head on in the dark
he broke his leg and his friend
broke his arm..

the books were gone..
stupid **** you would say
i recall you big honest grin..
you said you liked me..

because i never turned down
a drink..
if this was irony
it was lost on me..lol..

so the books picked up
by some one passing
and loved and cherished
just like i do  you now..

changing lives and growing love..
i thought about you..
when they carried each other
past to the bathroom..

just drunk and fine!
while we looked on
thanks for lending me
them...

iii

lily say something
she is busy reading
the rats by james herbert..

a late sixties horror classic
every one gets it..
the rat is so deep in our pscyche
these one´s are wise

too..dog size..packs..
they have the taste
for human flesh..
it is early days..

it is a secret
a scratch causes
death
within 24 hours..

it is herberts way
this is a real period piece
a simple style
we had a national health

system..last remnents
of a great empire..
a working class
rats..are..eating..people...

in amongst our order
be it puppy baby
school boy
mary..

they are slashing and
pulling cheeks away..
i do skip bits..where

is the wine..

astrix

charles bukowski..
Lee Apr 2021
No longer knowing the veil between
What's real and what isn't
A mind left to wander
Among ruins hopeless
On different paths
Remnents of a heart
Cast out for survival
Amidst the scurry of ferals
Banished knowing its betrayal
T'ward seeking wisdom
Eventually a mind at peace
The resting place for one's shell

— The End —