"scritchy" poems - Hello Poetry

You slid to me with ice on your heels, flame on your back, the wind in your face, and the stars in your eyes. It's a scritchy scratchy situation made from a wishy washy connotation. Shift, shaft, shake the muscles beneath my skin. You crick crack creeped to corner of my grin. Broken with a kiss, and sealed with a sigh. You remain my favorite little white lie. Confessing that I don't know why I will write about you until the day that I die. You pretended; I embroider the delusion with every hiccup of a heart's confusion. Remember, child, what you can't see? I won't stop, I still fancy that fantasy. I pushed you away, but you threw me out. I was your trash; you were everyone's treasure. Internally screaming with scarcely a shout, all in all, the torture was my pleasure. Backtrack back, to this and our state. A slip of strength but not a slip of the tongue, Because like destiny and the idea of fate, I stopped believing in you when I was young. So I stole your ice for my heart and flames for my belly, because it's windy in my head with your stars on my mind

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Nov 5, 2015

Nov 5, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC

shannen-bremner

Sidereal

You slid to me with ice on your heels, flame on your back, the wind in your face, and the stars in your eyes. It's a scritchy scratchy situation made from a wishy washy connotation. Shift, shaft, shake the muscles beneath my skin. You crick crack creeped to corner of my grin. Broken with a kiss, and sealed with a sigh. You remain my favorite little white lie. Confessing that I don't know why I will write about you until the day that I die. You pretended; I embroider the delusion with every hiccup of a heart's confusion. Remember, child, what you can't see? I won't stop, I still fancy that fantasy. I pushed you away, but you threw me out. I was your trash; you were everyone's treasure. Internally screaming with scarcely a shout, all in all, the torture was my pleasure. Backtrack back, to this and our state. A slip of strength but not a slip of the tongue, Because like destiny and the idea of fate, I stopped believing in you when I was young. So I stole your ice for my heart and flames for my belly, because it's windy in my head with your stars on my mind

30

Itchy scritchy Creepy crawly Something in my skin. I pick and scratch to free Fictitious bugs that squirm within. Whump-a thump-a Thudd, thudd Pounding in my ears, Punctuating every sound with thrums like stabbing spears. Wiggle wobble Swoopy swirly Motion fills my eyes. Saturated, inundated, Stillness its disguise. Shaky shaky Twitch-a-twitchy Static in my limbs, ***** them tight together Til the chaos finally dims. In the quiet, darkest, smallest space I sit and reminisce Of back when just existing didn't make me feel like this.

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Feb 15, 2018

Feb 15, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC

mediocrity

for the title, just imagine a looped audio clip of nails screeching down a chalkboard

Itchy scritchy Creepy crawly Something in my skin. I pick and scratch to free Fictitious bugs that squirm within. Whump-a thump-a Thudd, thudd Pounding in my ears, Punctuating every sound with thrums like stabbing spears. Wiggle wobble Swoopy swirly Motion fills my eyes. Saturated, inundated, Stillness its disguise. Shaky shaky Twitch-a-twitchy Static in my limbs, ***** them tight together Til the chaos finally dims. In the quiet, darkest, smallest space I sit and reminisce Of back when just existing didn't make me feel like this.

24

Taking and giving respect, see once more the flaw in the flow of knowledge, weaponize a wall, ha, who thought a wall ever held a garden? Honest, it was a poor fellow, outside the wall. Yep, no lie, if once there were a tree that bhor good fruit, full of words to wise, knowers, after one bite, sublingual receptors ready, salivate, no waiting lick the dew from the cortex, slip the tasting probe deep into that sulci, there just over the left ear, there, scratch that itch, gentle scritchy scritch scritch are you truly experienced, impressed upon the truth you seem to think we all see same as you, same optics, same alchemical ATP to ADP energy source, sunshine comes softly through my window today, I looked out after all, saw you looking through the old tear in the curtain. Inside and outside are easily seen as unreal, in certain pre-envisioned vessels can't not, gotta say, must make, say do you see? SEE, see me, see me, come see the freak, come hear the mad man scream back from the abyss, don't come this way, getting out takes all the time you ever realized was wasted, lying piled idle words that were high fashion, back when acid tore the prudent stitchery my princess stitched, while waiting, in truth, in truth, waiting for the soldier boy, returning as the man, who kept the peace, and painted the picket fence white, to prove I dreamed the valid dream, and swore my children's allegiance, -- PTSD, circa 1950, it was secret, what broken men did to broken wombed men, who broke the children, fit them to the harness, taught them manners, and how to carry a tune, in time with the marching band, hurah hurah - little light right then - see dark days during semper fi why why why last call, … no soul sits, all rise or I black your ****** eyes, rise up, o men o'gawds, ye gads, meet this in m'gut, here here, to the dead and gone, who rule our hearts and minds 'cause we be left behind.

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Mar 19, 2021

Mar 19, 2021 at 3:09 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Truth is always naked, fear is always raw

Taking and giving respect, see once more the flaw in the flow of knowledge, weaponize a wall, ha, who thought a wall ever held a garden? Honest, it was a poor fellow, outside the wall. Yep, no lie, if once there were a tree that bhor good fruit, full of words to wise, knowers, after one bite, sublingual receptors ready, salivate, no waiting lick the dew from the cortex, slip the tasting probe deep into that sulci, there just over the left ear, there, scratch that itch, gentle scritchy scritch scritch are you truly experienced, impressed upon the truth you seem to think we all see same as you, same optics, same alchemical ATP to ADP energy source, sunshine comes softly through my window today, I looked out after all, saw you looking through the old tear in the curtain. Inside and outside are easily seen as unreal, in certain pre-envisioned vessels can't not, gotta say, must make, say do you see? SEE, see me, see me, come see the freak, come hear the mad man scream back from the abyss, don't come this way, getting out takes all the time you ever realized was wasted, lying piled idle words that were high fashion, back when acid tore the prudent stitchery my princess stitched, while waiting, in truth, in truth, waiting for the soldier boy, returning as the man, who kept the peace, and painted the picket fence white, to prove I dreamed the valid dream, and swore my children's allegiance, -- PTSD, circa 1950, it was secret, what broken men did to broken wombed men, who broke the children, fit them to the harness, taught them manners, and how to carry a tune, in time with the marching band, hurah hurah - little light right then - see dark days during semper fi why why why last call, … no soul sits, all rise or I black your ****** eyes, rise up, o men o'gawds, ye gads, meet this in m'gut, here here, to the dead and gone, who rule our hearts and minds 'cause we be left behind.

62

His eyes lolligag across the words but he's not actually reading them. You can tell because he turns a page, only to turn back, realizing that he didn't digest what he'd just read. It takes a long time to read this way. With one's mind elsewhere, anywhere nowhere but here Like a fly in amber encased in this single moment of waiting for her Feeling the car lights outside rub his back, but not in the scritchy scratchy way that she does it. He clutches his phone turns back a page checks the time actually registers these numbers and wonders if this is routine Him, waiting in silence, alone in a restaurant, looking like some pathetic **** who never managed to make friends, food on the counter sitting as undigested as the words in his hands. Her, on her way, late and always dissapointing He turns back a page.

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Jan 29, 2018

Jan 29, 2018 at 2:03 PM UTC

hent0076

Turnpage

His eyes lolligag across the words but he's not actually reading them. You can tell because he turns a page, only to turn back, realizing that he didn't digest what he'd just read. It takes a long time to read this way. With one's mind elsewhere, anywhere nowhere but here Like a fly in amber encased in this single moment of waiting for her Feeling the car lights outside rub his back, but not in the scritchy scratchy way that she does it. He clutches his phone turns back a page checks the time actually registers these numbers and wonders if this is routine Him, waiting in silence, alone in a restaurant, looking like some pathetic **** who never managed to make friends, food on the counter sitting as undigested as the words in his hands. Her, on her way, late and always dissapointing He turns back a page.

17

Climbing D O W N A rope an ancient plastic rope Tiny pieces come off stick to your hands to your fingers and your palms they itch Makes a scratchy scritchy noise rubbing against your jeans as you slide D O W N here and there there's a knot stop and rest sit for a second not the best but it's all you've got, start climbing again You can't stay there forever. Lose your grip slide D O W N Too fast your hands burn red so do your legs, your cheek scrapes against the rope it feels like it's on fire. Brace yourself for more pain squeeze your fingers tight so you can slow you scream in agony but you've stopped. You reached another knot look down at your hands and bite your lip hard ****** salty, taste. One by one little blisters newly forming dotted across your palms throbbing. Continue your journey C L I M B I N G D O W N A R O P E Staying up all night traveling is normal now you've learned to ignore fatigue You don't even look D O W N Anymore You've accepted this as your life Never ending Pull of gravity Calling you to It You notice you've hit A knot again You sit But something feels Odd You glance down for The first time in months Startled by what Greets you Below you Is a hangman's noose So you've reached The end of your rope.

0

Jul 10, 2016

Jul 10, 2016 at 2:56 PM UTC

AnonymousFreak

The End

Climbing D O W N A rope an ancient plastic rope Tiny pieces come off stick to your hands to your fingers and your palms they itch Makes a scratchy scritchy noise rubbing against your jeans as you slide D O W N here and there there's a knot stop and rest sit for a second not the best but it's all you've got, start climbing again You can't stay there forever. Lose your grip slide D O W N Too fast your hands burn red so do your legs, your cheek scrapes against the rope it feels like it's on fire. Brace yourself for more pain squeeze your fingers tight so you can slow you scream in agony but you've stopped. You reached another knot look down at your hands and bite your lip hard ****** salty, taste. One by one little blisters newly forming dotted across your palms throbbing. Continue your journey C L I M B I N G D O W N A R O P E Staying up all night traveling is normal now you've learned to ignore fatigue You don't even look D O W N Anymore You've accepted this as your life Never ending Pull of gravity Calling you to It You notice you've hit A knot again You sit But something feels Odd You glance down for The first time in months Startled by what Greets you Below you Is a hangman's noose So you've reached The end of your rope.

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