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pookie Jan 2014
This isn't really a poem at all this is what i go through every night.

im standing on a long narrow path, i can feel the cobbles underneath my feet, they are uneven and cold to the touch. I know thats its night time but there is no moon and no stars, just black, dark and cold. I start to move forward on the cobbled street but as i move forward i hear a scarping sound behind me i turn round slowly my whole body shaking cold sweat running down my skin, what i see frightens me, all i see is a face and a dark shadow covered body, the face is moving darkness tendrils of shadows moving across his face, he has eyes like burning embers i can almost see the smoke escaping his eyes, he has horns dark black like a rams horns poking through his darkness, he starts to laugh and when i see his mouth its full of the faces of people i know but they are on fire screaming the skin melting off there bones the arms and hands outstretched reaching for help but there is none there, i'm stuck just standing there i can move i cant run away as he turns his eyes on me boring into my soul seeing me for who i am and ripping my memories apart bring up the ones i buried he laugh he's enjoying it,  he moves forward grasping me with his hands the tendrils of shadows holding me still i cant breath i cant move, he moves closer to me his hands grow claws sharp as razors he digs them into me i feel be flesh tear i scream but he dosn't stop he just laughs at me saying to me that i'm pathetic, worthless, he digs further with his claws i now feel my blood pumping down my arms down my legs i cant stop it i can't move, he just laughs at me goading me i scream more and more till my throat cracks and nothing comes out, he looks at me and just drops me, i get up he looks at me and smiles i run as fast as i can running for my life, i turn back to and see hundred of eyes like his each one holding a painful memory of mine reminding me of it pulling at me, i run but they are always behind me they all laugh and again i see the people i know in pain and i cant do anything, i keep running my lungs burn my legs feel like dead wights but i don't stop i keep going one foot in front of the other, the the cobbles fall away and fall through the air and hit hard flat ground i look up but its just darkness i know i'm in a tunnel i can feel it sense it i stop running i take a deep breath but then i feel my skin tear all along my back and he's there smiling again i run the blood running freely down my back now, as i'm running i hear a sound one that made me stop from fear a scream that chilled my soul and rattle my bones so high pitched it hurt me to listen, but it didn't stop i carried on i felt my ear drums burst and blood dribble down my neck from it, i fall too my knees clutching my head to stop the sound stop the pain, as soon as my knees hit the floor theres a thunderclap and the walls and celling crack, the walls fall on me cracking my bones the tear through my skin my muscles rip and my vain's burst i can only feel pain the celling collapses trapping me my intestines rupture my lungs pop, i can feel it all happening, i scream for help but no ones there, i scream till my throat bleeds but no one hears me, i can see them  the demons laughing, i can see the people who i thought would helping standing on top of where i'm buried they do not notice they just walk away. i start to grow cold and weak my eyes are shutting the last of my strength escapes me and then as i'm about to die.

i wake up.


This happens every night.
i just needed to write it down get it out of my head but i know that tonight ill still have that nightmare.
Samantha Nov 2014
Pelvic bone to pelvic bone
We are fused together.
Some type of warped conjoined twin syndrome.
Chin to chin.
Lip to lip to lip to lip.
Our lips are touching but we are not kissing.
Cheek to cheek.
Fingertips scarping against fingertips.
There’s a theory in physics
That states
You are never really touching anything,
Only the space in between.
Sometimes I think we are the very definition of this theory.
We push closer
But we never touch.
I cannot feel your kiss pressing up against my neck.
I cannot feel your teeth tugging at the skin on my collarbone.
I cannot feel your saliva intermingling with my own.
You are sitting next to me on the couch
But I do not feel
The bend your body makes.
I do not feel the dip of cushion.
Your hand is nothing more than
An anchor keeping me grounded on Earth.
We are perpendicular lines
But it feels like we’re parallel
t m h May 2012
as mean drops fall without those intentions
i flick a bic and steal oxygen from lungs with fake friends,
outside "humans" without dreams
toss hands in the air
for funds they have
but autos in garages are scared.

memories break the glass in my thoughts
for there are folks here that love things i'm not
i'd be with a lover, and not have a heart for her,
she'd cling to me as barnacles do
but i'd  be the child scarping an itch, inflicting self conscious wounds.

run and hide all women,
for there are things that i need,
i'll please you in sheets and kitchens
but if you want my heart, i'll leave you hungry
that's just something
i said before i love you
that means if you don't
i'll just live till the casket alone
Jessica Dec 2017
One bullet.
Two bullet.
Three.
Each one stabbing at me.
My legs scarping against the floor as I walk,
my arms droop like a puppet that lost its strings,
but you know what,
this creature in human form,
that's come to my school,
trying to ****** children so small, who haven't lived at all.
Who punched me so hard, I flew backwards what felt like 20 feet,
and who laughed in my face, as I fell beneath.

But it does not matter,
even though it should,
as my body scraped against hard wood.
All my body raged with pain,
but I stood up anyway,
because all the sorrow and bullying I have endured,
its wrong to let this creature rule.

So I stand, my body wilted and crinkled, under the weight of my wounds that have been sprinkled.
I cannot give up, I will not.
I started the sombre walk,
hearing
Pop
Pop
Pop

And just as I reached his gainly figure,
I quivered,
the flicker of my soul, starting to waver in the face of danger.
But I ignored it,
because of the other more brighter flickers of new lives.
So instead of blowing my candle,
I looked right into the eyes of the devil.
I hope you enjoyed this strange poem about standing up for other people, even if you are in pain and your life will disintegrate. Inspiration from anime. ;)
L J James Mar 2011
Can you hear them now;
The white lights exploding above our heads?
Sweet smell of smoke and canned peaches.
The door shakes violently against the concrete walls.
Steel can make such a horrid noise.
Scratching and scarping of it like nails on a chalk board.
Aww, your shaking,
Like a puppy in the rain.
Why are you scared?
I told you we are safe.
I will let no one or thing hurt you.
Pat , Pat , Pat your head,
Your safe with me, I love you dear.
No soldiers will take you,
No bombs will burn out your light,
No amount of smoke will **** us;
No fear in this bomb shelter tonight.
Crash crash against the door,
We don't want your soldiers anymore
Xenna May 2016
I felt the sun on my skin,
the warming,
yet stinging sensation is left.
I was staring
outside my window
from the corner of my bed,
trying to block
out the yelling from the otherside of the door with
my cries.

That door,
That bolted door,
was the difference
between the worlds of
safety,
solitude,
silence
and relaxation,
which I lay in fright of the other side.

That side which holds
the anger,
fear,
the animals that will tear each others throats if willing.
I fear leaving my world and
entering that world of reality.
I've been pushed to this corner
by people who I thought  where standing by my side,
who told me they loved me
and the ones that left me standing on the edge of the cliff of life.

Trying so hard to push forward
against the concrete wall
that they had built against me. Scarping and tearing my flesh
against this wall,
I finally,
gave up.
I had not gave up my life,
but instead I gave up the feelings
that basic humans need,
yet was forced to keep the ones
that others will gladly give away.
The pain,
fear,
anxiety,
paranoia
and sadness.

I no longer have the sense of joy for the things I have,
but the sense of jealously of what others have,
love.
No longer the feeling of happiness, but I fake it,
to seem normal to the
human eye.
No longer the feeling of excitement of being with others,
but the fear of what they will do,
what they could do and
the harsh breathing which has been coming from
me.

All of these experiences
lay behind
the door,
if you listen.
carefully.
you can hear it.
amongst the yelling.
scratching,
its claws against
the bolted door,
begging
to come in
or
for me to exit,
To be torn to pieces
by the animals that reside there.

Fearing that I will soon lose
my sanity,
I Curl up against the corner
of my enclosed,
single window room.
where  I hold my ears within
the clasp of my palms,
where my fingers are
tangled within the strands of my hair, where I feel the moist drop and streams run down my face.

As I stare out side the window
to the sky as a flock flies by,
and where i beg
to join them,
but that's impossible,
the lost of some humanity
no longer grants me the right to fly.

within the view of my sight
i glimpse at the scars
that lay flat against my skin,
each one representing a day
where i suffered and wanted to be gone,
but also another day that i had
survived.
These scars give me some encouragement
to survive
to live another day
because one day it will happen,
where i will leave my world
and break down
the bolted door.
Where i can
finally stand up
strong
and fight against the wall,
to push through and live,
to gain  back the emotions
i have once lost.
My hands grasps
tighter
against my head,
curled my body
closer
to the wall,
as a eerie voice
leaked
through the door
speaking my name

I try to ignore it and
whisper to myself
"One day, just one more day then i'll be safe".
Robert Miller Aug 2016
again
sweat everywhere
    trees
deep fried
    bushes
agonizing brown
    air
water-full
    sun
scarping flesh
    life
droops sags
    lolls
its tongue
Connemara morning early
iron grey sky
scarping waves
of sharp and tempered steel
and a sun barely creeping
on peaty bog
and marshy sheep-shod field
here dwelt the silent ones
fertile gods of Erin's clan
who fed the earth
and coaxed the land
solemn faces watch us still
through smoky mist
on emerald hill
Grace Ann Jun 2018
Walking in tap shoes on tile floors is an
excellent metaphor for life
if you’ve never attempted then you’re
unaware how thrilling and absolutely
freeing tap shoes can make you feel
suddenly your entire body is an instrument
the world is your audience
you don’t need rhythm
those who know nothing about the art
will still be enthralled by the sounds
coming from your feet
But when you walk on tiles you have to be careful
one wrong move
one miniscule shift in balance and you’ll be on the
floor accompanied by the lovely sound of metal
scarping polished tile akin to nails on a chalkboard.
On tiles you walk with care
Slipping so easily
But those sounds
The beautiful clicks as you walk
They radiate so much more power than
stilettoes on a quiet church floor.
Next time it rains listen to the drops dancing on the roof.
They perform for you.

    --They still sit in my closet

— The End —