"skinless" poems
NAKED BUS
She catches the London bus
in her fist.
Gnaws it...then throws it
through the window.
Lucky the window wasn't
closed.
She chews it when
teething.
Chews its redness
- off.
She is amazed to see
the real thing for the first time.
For her
her toy has grown into a giant.
Then she discovers double-deckers.
Counts: "One double-decker bus...two double-decker buses
...24 double decker buses!"
It is unbelievably so!
Doesn't know she is counting
the same bus twice!
And now to add to her
amazement she
encounters a green bus!
Will the excitement never end.
"The bus has changed its clothes?"
she says unsure that this can be so.
But now confounded by a bus
all in white!
Even we have never seen
a bus in white.
It looks like it has taken
all its clothes off.
A **** bus!
But to her it's worse
far worse than that!
"The bus has taken
it's skin off!"
She refuses to go on
this skinless bus.
We wait for a "normal"
bus to somehow appear.
And appear it does
busy being a red bus.
The world of buses
restored to its proper order.
Jul 29, 2018
Jul 29, 2018 at 5:07 PM UTC
Hell shimmies when I am blunted ;
When I take a knock to the senses
When I am skinless,
singing stings
and misdirected by pain
If I had trained better
I'd be deep sea
Sussing distant messages
Operating with slight tremors, vocals and movement
and only when correct...
I'd be home
I'd be instrument
Not an act
Not a pet to society
No mood fool ;
flaked,
flooded
and littered
Rapped at by experiences
Attack reacting
An embarrassment
Watching my own pattern spooling
the same sums
and spoiling with repetition
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC
Holy **** I'm a ****** got no grit and finds life hard.
Got ***** whipped and now I can't get hard. Gonna sing myself to sleep and dream of discharge.
Walk a mile, fake a smile, i'm stuck as a child.
Fighting my mind, desperately trying not to be evil.
People dying, I see them. A voice, it tells me to eat them.
I know your insides I can practically feel them,
Every bone, every muscle and tendon.
Skinless people feel they need to follow me around,
I try to run but they catch up and pin me to the ground.
Pry my mouth wide, put your tongue inside and suddenly there's no sound.
A white noise fills my mind and a darkness washes over my eyes.
I'm skinless too, I can join those who used to follow me, through the red I see blonde.
Lips i need to kiss, a skinless body I need to hold.
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
In the broken kitchen chair he sits
Weeping the tears of a killer
Face buried into the palms of his grisly hands
He sobs uncontrollably for he knows what these hands have done
He cries as a child might having seen his parents murdered
Gasping and struggling to draw in a full breath
Snot running from his nose, curling over the stubble of his upper lip
With a clenched fist he wipes this away
Rage building in his veins, hatred, and remorse
His face grows red as he shakes uncontrollably with anger
Unsure of what to do with himself he rises quickly to his feet
His chair crashing back to the floor behind him
He paces the kitchen back and forth
Feet padding monotonously over checkered linoleum
Suddenly, abruptly, he stops, his gaze drifting to the counter top
As he catches sight of the skinless corpse he screams
A blood curdling scream that chills to the bone
Unable to bare the sight of his disembodied victim any longer
He barrels out of the kitchen
Crashing through doors, splinters of wood marking his trail
In the bathroom he now stands
Sulking in shame before a ***** mirror, staring down at his bare feet
Slowly, he raises his head, eyes squeezed shut
Fearing to find what he might see when he opens them
He pauses here for several moments, collecting his thoughts
Breathing deeply, hoarsely, sporadically huffing
Mustering all of his courage, he makes this final leap, opening his eyes
In the mirror before him he sees all too clearly himself
Wearing a skin that is not his own
Face, hands, feet, all that are exposed
His own pale skin standing out in bold contradiction
To the beautifully bronzed hollow man that he wears
His pale and bony knuckles crash repeatedly into the face of the mirror
Over and over again the thud and the crunch
Broken skin and shattered glass
Blood now smeared across what little reflective surface remains
At last he can see himself no more
Slumping down into a ball on the floor
He sits alone and rocks
The mere shell of a man remains
With dripping hands he tears away a patch of flesh from his thigh
Groping the floor blindly his hand closes over a shard of glass
He is now far too numb to feel pain, dead inside
Gripping tightly to the broken glass this broken man begins to write
Carving his apology into his thigh
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
At the edge of morning--broad sky fine
And soft as peach skin--
The sun, a round, sweet skinless half--
Rilling water washes through gullied gorge,
Cresting fig root and tongue of cobbled stone,
Lazing into lacquered lake or placid pond;
Squat and pooch-bellied on flatly floating leaf,
The idle toad croaks his great guttural,
Glutted belch.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 8:35 PM UTC
early after-noon, she quizzes,
“would I be ok with
skinless boneless roasted
chicken breast, with sautéed
mushrooms for our dinner,
ce soir?”
so smile I,
for it is a favored menu
of pleasure,
from one who has never
presented us a meal
that is less than perfect
later, she shyly inquires,
“would be ok if we to eat
a little early, I have a salon,
followed by an
Argentine Tango dance milonga
tonight and one starts early (and
tango parties
end typically
the next day?
(no|si, me, don’t dance)
of course, respondez in
the affirmative, thus
confirming our love with the
consideration that veins
out affection mutual
and then I add:
“instead of an hours food prep,
which distracts you from the hour
deeded for dressing
for dancing motivation proper,
and add a little kick-her:
*I love you so much,
would happily consume
your tuna fish salad sandwich,
every night, for the rest of our
lives together, it’s fast
and simple, a dis-less-stressing
concoction, that we both enjoy*
she (s)miles a sweetened thanks,
after numerous reassurances,
that our love only grows
stronger with acts of smart
sensitivity to each others needs,
no standard of care breached,
au contraire, meant sincerely,
earning me a secondary
whiling smiling
and this true story is a poem,
has been writ a thousand times,
in a million different tiny gestures,
of which, I am proud
she exhales a breath elongated,
a release of an admixture of differing
pleasures released, and goes into the
night to dance in the arms of strangers,
which concerns me
not at all,
after all,
these many years,
aware she moves exquisitely
in a dance that demands years
of practice, for it requires
intangible silent of the merest
slight finger pressures to guide
the dancer what next steps
are coy coming,
and I have stolen this
knot of knowledge,
for mine own purposes,
secretly & selfishly,
employing these techniques,
for most of the time we’ve
been together
this poem of
tuna fish sandwiches,
becomes a dance of words
which is
my specialty, which she will
read in the morning l, maybe,
if I send it to her,
though obviously,
that is unnecessary 😉
as she returns to our bed,
me asleeping, she,
exhaustingly satisfied,
sleeeps deeper
secured by the knowing
that we, are both,
the beneficiaries of:
my learned dancing
practices
for such is
the ways of the poet!
Dec 14, 2024
Dec 14, 2024 at 10:39 AM UTC
The blood clot is
back. Up to old
tricks. A halloween mask.
A heart attack with a laugh,
One day. that old
**** is gonna kick,
Leave me with his water gun collection .
Body in the ocean
Someone built a giant cave
inside of me last night. When I was sleep-
ing someone built a cave in side
of me last night.when i was sleeping.
Someone built a giant cave inside of me last night someone. Built a giant cave inside of me last night .
Body in the ocean.
Now it's ocean everywhere it's
flowing but nothing flows.
The ocean is still now
so still it is a salt lick.
Body in the ocean.
Chopped off his own scalp
sever'd Body after Body in
the ocean. Skinless. Battered. Beaten. Bested. Busted appendix. Internally bleeding. Externally bleeding. Bleeding from the mouth. Bleeding from the eyes, ears, and throats. The devastating side effects of self-
anhila-
tion..
Every one laughing at the bl
o
odclot
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
I will wait
blindly scraping through each day
on skinless knees
clawing through with bloodied fingers
searching for the truth to clench to
I will wait
in the bowels of a twisted mind
bending flickers to shadows
in endless search of the light
that teased with relentless promise
I will wait
for this Hell to freeze my bones brittle
buried in glacial daydreams
of a time that day meant
I could feel the warmth of the sun
I will wait
for the accidental happiness
that covered me like a puddle I fell into
while stumbling through existence
simply drawing breath
I will wait
in jagged darkness for the only reality
that makes sense of this place
for in that union is peace so pure
it washes the universe in light
So, yes, I will wait
an eternity of gaping wounds
bathed in the brine of silence
never giving voice to the grated truth
of the best part of who I am
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 7:23 AM UTC
cradle your head in your hands
as every barbed whisper in your head
echoes until it's thunder wreaks havoc
you are a jarring lance against the wall
while the buzzing breath of the world rolls
**you are not here
you were never here**
you can only pray,
only only only
wish you weren't
but you cannot just will yourself to die
with the fierce passivity that comes with nirvana
because you know that
while you can still convince yourself
there's something better in the future
barely
but barely is something still
even though presently
you are on a slab and you were Romeo
who believed he died alone, on the top
you are on a table dissected
metaphorically flayed and made raw
by the seeming death of passion, a lack of someone in your bed tonight,
and the slipped hand that pulled off your skin and made the feelings of the feelings that wound.
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
The smell sets
into your skin
while waiting for the doctor
while waiting by the phone
while waiting for things
that don't happen anymore.
You try to scrub it off.
Instead,
you scrub off your skin
and find
the smell settled into your soul.
Now you are left skinless
asking
How do I scrub my soul?
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
I rolled over this morning and you weren't there.
Not even the scent of you remains.
Yesterday I was admiring and stroking your hair.
Why you walked out I can't explain.
I lumber down the steps in a jilted lovers daze
Hoping to see your smiling face.
Instead I see a darkened room with a guilty haze.
Your love is something I can't replace.
I start my car and the sad music begins to play.
A heart stabbing melody surrounds me.
I begin to feel dizzy and my head begins to sway.
The tears stream down my face so free.
I drive my car around to clear my aching head.
When I spot you holding another mans hand.
The feelings that overcome me make me feel dead.
I would rather writhe skinless in the gritty sand.
There's no reason to go on with my miserable life.
If I can't have you then I don't want anything.
And just to think I was going to ask you to be my wife.
What in the hell am I going to do with this ring?
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 12:07 PM UTC
The monster of insanity stuck it's fist down my throat,
tore out my sanity,
and it's watching me bleed out.
Tell me, why is the monster dancing?
Fangs so jagged,
tearing my flesh,
leaving me skinless.
Is this all because I'm weak,?
Nothing more than a putrid pile of dying flesh.
Can this all be undone?
Insanity, sharpen these teeth,
take them as a trophy,
I am nothing more than a horror show
with only trophy teeth to show for it.
A mass murdering beast,
Keeping you just alive, torture.
Chain saw massacre,
Where you haven't been cut entirely through,
Metallic taste on plump ****** lips,
All the stories that can only be whispered now,
Never heard.
I'll tear out bullets from purple skin,
Darling, hold the gun.
A slowing heart beat,
Locked forever in a glass coffin,
Another trophy.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 7:27 PM UTC
I got home tonight
Walked in front of the mirror
And undressed
Out of my skin
Leaving my corpse
Lying on the floor
I sit next to it
Opening my eyes
To release the water
That have short-circuit
The wires of my mind
I take a deep breathe
And count to three
As I gaze into the mirrors depths
Reflections of my soul emerge
Skinless and vulnerable
I confront myself
Causing my memory to surge
I don’t recognize this person anymore
Dropping the hard drives into the degausser
Old files displaying
An error occurs
“Are you sure you want to erase memory?”
CTRL+ALT+DELETE
I have finally set myself free
Of the AI who controls my mind
Named:
Victim mentality
Jan 13, 2024
Jan 13, 2024 at 1:11 AM UTC
The world is a pattern
In my eyes.
Bigheads full of water,
And tongues that’s tied.
The world is a pattern,
And I can’t keep up with it.
Everything is the same,
It’s like looking at black and white swirls with
Different names.
My mind is confused,
And my heart is just screaming.
My *** is over boiled with hot water that’s
Steaming.
The steam blurs my eyes
From those filthy lies
That I deceive,
Is fulfilled to take away my needs,
Leaving me skinless with
No deeds.
I pray to God to keep the
Confusion away,
But something always seems to
Happened my way.
What can I do?
Where can I start?
I begin to lose my memory
That’s why I have it written
On a chart.
My heartless soul,
Filled with black blood,
Red eyes, and
Evil art.
I see the cross hidden.
I see it in the background
Blended in with a few others,
But I’m not focused
Because I’m ducking and dodging
The cutters.
My life consist on abuse,
And bad temper that fuse.
I’m like a snotty nose kid,
Empty and
Confused.
-Marci H.
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 9:06 PM UTC
Mother you never wanted me
The truth slipped between the space between your teeth
You tried so hard to bite free from the leash
Stabbing a heart wasn't much damage
Well done Mother, well done
But you failed once again
Sorry after all these years,
You see I walk on a thin piece of hair
I might slip and land in my own dark abyss
Don't worry I wont struggle when my hands loose grip
8 years slapped to my lips
The ivory bars a tattoo on my face
I start to itch between my fingers,
The chalk beneath my feet
More innocent than your regrets
You're close, you're close
Under your skinless feet your walking uncharted territory
Smoke signals coming from your cigarette whispers
Pressure me to crack my dry skin
The bitter taste threatens to come out
I hear a tick, a tick
You don't carry boulders of maternity and promises
You don't seem to care anymore
Your scent of deception and stuck up nights
Did the price of prostitution pay off right?
Mother, mother I can finally hear you
The hate, the price of your sins
8 years gone paper bonds paid
Mother you're no where here
Mother mother all this time
I held the truth on the tip of my tongue
The lies written all over my smile
Mother, mother you sick **** I'll see you when the rose blossoms.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
I feel bleaker than bleak
More empty than full
More restless than calm
More hopeless than hard
More gutless than strong
More boneless than brave
More pointless than sharp
More faceless than feared
More skinless than naked
More airless than breath
More lifeless than dead
More useless than you
I feel like crying inside.
Won’t someone just do something?
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:20 AM UTC
"I saw what it does to people," you said
with a mixture of disdain and disgust like
you were talking about **** addicts before
and after pictures.
"I hate girlfriends," you said to me after you told me
we weren't going out on Valentines Day because your
ex set you up with someone else and you "have to" go
and who is afraid of Berkeley and all those new idee-ers
The vegan restaurants with rice milk whipped cream
The pleasant outdoor cafes with people learning, studying
the only "Ivy League" public University...
All those things there to open your mind and make you
think differently and you may begin to believe in Global Warming
and even though you don't, those thoughts may haunt you
but I know there are scientists working in labs all over the world trying
to figure out what to do about it ...
Socialism, you are afraid of that too
but what is it when Walmart hands out an application
for public healthcare to all their new hires
since they will never be able to afford their own
and Walmart can't share any money on their behalf
In the Netherlands, mink farms have been outlawed
yet you like to dissect them in your class and
carry around the poor dead skinless creature in
a clear plastic bag around the school
and many of those places prefer to pay the fees
and citations of skinning the animals alive rather than
pay to **** them before skinning
why doesn't that bother you?
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 12:54 PM UTC
Deep in wood’s twig embrace
She lies beneath the leaf tessellation
Her hollow skull and hollow chest are friends with the burning winds
She is hallowed in her sloping waist
With child
She is mother bony
Woman with skinless face
She is grinless
For her jaw was stolen in ages past
Yet she is blessed with child
Her middle is heavy with boundless boy
A boy fated
To be *******
Emperor
Tyrant
King
To be lord of the shattered lands and even their scattered men
Destined to be crowned in fragments of skulls and silky fabric reds
He shall mate with fire
Be father of arson spawn
His face will be carved in Mammon’s silver toys
He will never be forgotten by any of history’s tedious scribes
Yet first he must be born
Now the winds are chanting
They push at her pudgy waist
They are chanting for the birth of the emperor ******* king
They desire the tyrant
They are the slaves of God
For they are catalysts that mold the shapes of futures’ lords
They will sing triumphant
When he is pushed through dusty hips
They will congratulate their oldest and most silent friend
He is birthed with great force
The spit of cadaverous womb
Crying shrieks in the forest
No one living to clean him
By spirits’ force he is taught
To eat the last of mother’s skin
To grow to be the friend of the whispering burning winds
He shall grow into great beast
With strength to wield the lance
He will enter the kingdoms of men
Appearing as a wild God
While he is shaping his role
His mother will often laugh
Ever since he left her
Her body was never again the same
Jan 8, 2017
Jan 8, 2017 at 6:52 PM UTC
Bearing the stench
of my decaying self
as a prisoner beneath
the walls of death
I crave for the mercy
utterly denied
I crave for liberty
I truly desire
As the sharpened roots
of the devil's sword,
the deathbed to the cloud
painted white
by the holy messages
from sanctity's skies
pierce through my mind
and stabs to death
my memories which shed
an ocean of blood
which craves for the mercy
utterly denied
I crave for liberty
I truly desire
As scavengers devour
the final bits
of my filthy carcass
to bloodless ruins
as a helpless soul
within this skinless corpse
I crave for the mercy
utterly denied
I crave for liberty
I truly desire.
Against the deafness
of my putrefying ears
I Heard the whispers
of your triumphant sword
to the beheaded warrior
of the empire of dusk
but even as your touch
lit up this earth
your iniquitous ignorance
to my deafening plea
muted my cravings
for the mercy siezed
muted my cravings
for the liberty decieved
Destined to die
a repugnant death
as I welcomed the scroungers
to my final breath
I silently yearn
O divine one
to be enslaved no more
and betrayed by none
I silently yearn
O divine one
to be bloomed as dawn
not ever as sun
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 11:13 AM UTC
My film class,
Is my favorite class
and the class I hate the most,
I love film,
I have a passion for this art,
this medium,
this class is my soul and bodies passion,
and like a job,
like my job,
it fits me,
but like all jobs,
there's things that just ******* ****
and it's not over the normal things,
like time and money,
its the people you work with,
or in my case,
my class,
and they are all *****
when someone makes it their point,
to upset you and hurt you everyday,
because finally you are good at something,
when you **** at science,
and allowed your math skills to fall behind,
your life is filled with lies and you find,
a reason to live,
worth all your effort and time
but the same people calling you stupid and dumb and a **** up,
in math and science,
are in this film class,
forced to take a smile,
and sarcastically say,
"good job,"
when your film gets played in class,
and even when you ask,
no one give you advice like you give when asked,
and every frame seen on the projected screen,
gives me anxiety,
and the rude, unhelpful reminders from my bullies,
don't ******* help me,
when I want to run out of my favorite class daily,
and scream in all their faces,
**** OFF"
"for once..."
but I don't
I sit,
I bit skin off skinless lips,
hold back tears,
the urge to leave,
take all my insults
that are directed at me,
with a head tilted down fake half smile,
when they should be directed to my film,
but everyday, I do get to say;
**** you,
because this year,
I make it to all my classes,
even the next one,
history.
period 11/12
with my dignity
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
laws that i create
and space overcame
the spottish help of Scottish fellows
that screams danger
and i still proceed
with caution to the wind
i walk on harms way
waiting to embrace the sharp embers of a furnace made with steel
of fairytale dinners in hell
and fatigued fluttered strongmen
bound by vain skinless hounds
songs that i write
with rhythms misplaced
moves the devil to dance
as i pine for all i want
the harmless danger i breathe
of harmful sour cream
i mix wheat with vinegar
and smile as i eat
as that weird stinging pain
stabbed my heart of all its might
with the help i freely gave,
withered me just before me
lines that i sketch
lead me to doom
helping vain and pain go through
wanting harm that looms abroad
withered hands i dare not stretch
moving pains now bang my head
searching for my muse, that i might never find
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 2:54 PM UTC
A [R]ainbow [E]cstacy [U]nderneath [M]e
Such beauty in the colors that I see
Because in this crowd of gray uniformity
You're my daily dose of purple and green
Come find me
I'm hiding.
Let's play
I'm deciding
On fighting
Or flying
Or spying
Or dying.
Come play dead, be my glorious Mrs. possum
Where we'll strip the snakes skinless
And wash ourselves in this river of red
Endless red, it's all I see, besides you and me.
Three orange suns set to raise a yellow one
Bringin green grass back to who are shunned
And blue skies will forever grace our face
As Equal Lips lock in this endless purple craze.
What's this, my dear?
You say I missed something?
Indigo, you say? Oh no, no, no.
For indigo was the color of your hair.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 11:48 AM UTC
dead skin flaking off
the neighbors are fighting again
I can't hear what they're saying
beneath the music I listen to
feeling the chant of addiction
like loops like fruit
like an animal
killing another animal.
or a woman, waiting to hear the
opening
of a door:
walking out.
the lights are off
"it's because they're broken"
you say
"they're not"
wrapped up
in blankets
in sheets in water
cut off my arms
my legs
and watch me swim.
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 4:02 PM UTC
We who have lived solemn lives,
Live again as to die,
Without a heartache or a pleasent stream,
To slowly guide a sullen dream,
Wish for me as days go by,
To live a life without the lies,
Of societal youth,
Democratic fields of,
Constant burning fires,
Reckless cares,
Desires and fears,
That destroy the animal paws,
The guilded nighttime,
Barren and cold doth he tell,
Will vile and such the skinless will
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 4:56 PM UTC