Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Happened to me on a street corner
on either a late night or an early morning.
It took a wallet full of cider, a charity of spirits,
a shared packet of ****** and the smell of glue.
Not the cheap stuff, the glue for models,
and they look alright, right? right man?

The night left me outside my head, with my thoughts,
I had a handful of anti-headaches.
We nearly bled out last time we admitted all our mistakes,
my friend, who always ends a night with a head
on my shoulder, snotting up my collar,
hiccuping up frag grenades,
**** and apologies.
voodoo May 2020
white surfaces flash in fluorescent lighting –

this is no opus, heaving on cold bathroom tiles,

blood and grain against porcelain,

convulsing creature in all its grotesque obloquy:

bleary and snotting. four-walled, windowless, antiseptic vivarium;

life crawls outside. it thrives, it devours, it fortifies.

inside, here, it repulses. ****** effluvium of all kinds.

sharp shrieks of skin across glossed floor, tears soak

before the cliff of the jaw. nothing stays.

wiping drool off the sterile sink and sweat off my knotted back.

snarls choking into sobs, sobs gasping for air.

this is no opus; blackening from corners,

the repugnant vignette held between fingernails –

for the contagious odium of the resigned abhorrent

bleeds and drips and stains.

neglect and rejection strewn like pearls,

pearls, worth nothing, feeling everything.

a fly buzzes in the stark fluorescent light,

and blackness climbs in. blackness consumes.
Graff1980 Feb 2015
The foaming sea
The turtle stone
Marks the beach
I stride alone
Memories
Made of
Vain and venomous vipers
Stinging
Poisoning
The present
No longer pleasing
Convulsive flesh
No longer easing
But coughing
And wheezing
Snotting and sneezing
Waking to sleeping
Living while dreaming
Loving but leaving
I melt my skin
Loose what is within
My vice so called sin
Lay slip slip slipping
Drip drip dripping
Identity and vanity
Escape me
Eyes loosen from their socket
Lost picture burnt from
Mother’s never was locket
And I become the same salted sea
Distasteful, though birthing place
Of the entire human race
Drowning, oozing, and losing my illusions
Of once dear held humanity
Vicki Acquah May 2016
by Vicki Acquah on Tuesday, January 25, 2011 / revised  edit.

You think flattery and bull-dung will get you everywhere.  But when the worm turns, they flatter you and dangle carrots... and on your crawl back home, coughing and snotting all over the place. You will remember that old sofa or... the few who were really with you in your time of need;   Those who gave you a warm blanket...and maybe some tea.
One day you'll remember when no one was there but Mamma or a best friend. The old blanket and a cup of tea, they sat with you every night and nursed you on that old sofa till well—They told you of those faults, that you could not see. You could not see your faults with eyes filled with deceit, Now with eyes no longer scheming.  
You may one day see the light. You may even say " I love you"...and tell yourself that you were wrong". You may even find a soul inside that empty temple. If sorry is so hard to say, because all you think of is yourself. You’ll keep feeling, it is right to spew untruths and continue thinking simple.  
You may say “whats done is done”  Speaking loud, and last, and long;. Speaking loud and long does not make you right!.…
You’ll just go on and on, never admitting that you were wrong. "Oh" The more you repeat the lie; The more it becomes your truth...It does become your truth…Now it is your gospel song.  Then someone will tell you, what your sick soul wants to hear, then once again you'll waddle in pain, never understanding “That flattery and bull-crap are the same” just that;
Making righteous, virtues most impossible.
Love will check bull-crap at the door every-time it crosses truth's threshold. Friends are standing along side, Looking sad, Please check all evil thoughts before you lose the best friends you’ve had. Love is waiting for you to change…”nothing ventured nothing gained”.
So come on in, leave dissension outside the door- if you do not like it here, we will be happy to refund to you, your "misery''...as you exit the store.  
No questions asked, as long as you stay in your own lane... “Oh well no crash” The Ugly Truth gets uglier….  
So If you need to be dazzled with bull-crap and flattered with lies. Try truth for a change. Because people who love you, can see right through the plastic disguise.. You will be, the biggest fool, and not very clever;  Too big to say, “sorry I was wrong”- So the "Ugly Truth get's more sour, with every passing hour. The pain of truth will soon subsides, but lies torment forever.!
staysha Dec 2018
Its voice in my head is almost silent
I have pushed it back so far,
I barely hear its weeping
The tell tale sting in my eye
The congestion starting now
I try to push it back again
But this time i went to far
Bottled monsters dont want to stay
Cramped and shoved all the way in
They want out
But i want them in!
I struggle to keep them back
As my defense weaks they grow stronger
Waiting for a chance to erupt out of me
Like fire from a dragon's mouth
Lava from a volcano
First one breaks free
Then another
And before I know it
Im a screaming, crying
Snotting, Stomping,
And then it stops.
The calm in the storm i Calm down reevaluate
    Breath deeply
And its gone im fine!
I was always fine
You told me i was fine didnt you?
You always were there for me werent you
You were there when it happened
You did not leave me did you
You told me to let them out didnt you??
You would NEVER allow me to hurt my self this way!
Would you?
You love me right?
Yeah i know i love you too.
an internal struggle
Joseph Rice Sep 2019
Rorschach sounds test door lock found
watching ninetofivers run the hamster wheel.
I could complain
that would be sane, right?

Efficacy of coffee in drawing truth from words
belies belief belittling lies obvious strength.
Who are you to say “light"?
Just another dark eyed zombie echoing societal platitudes.

The days ways say stay to
the ***** of the broke brained overweight.
Hunger in the eyes sunder intelligent minds
beneath the crushing hand of expectation.

Buy me a sliver of happiness
Or was it
Cry me a river of helplessness
Memory fails snails snotting up rails
that funny ******* find with palm’s hand.
Anastasia Jan 2020
Scared of the dark
Locked in the basement
Climbing to the top stair
Only to be pushed to the bottom
Locked in my room
Can barely reach the doorknob
A small hungry girl
Sobbing and snotting
No supper again tonight
Or eat off the dogs
Trying to take care of my little brother
Forced to watch him eat my chapstick
It wasn't his fault
Brain not fully formed
Taken from my mother
A foster home was supposed to be better
Watching with tear-filled eyes
As they cut off my doll's hair
Can't stop shaking
Getting punished for it
They took my brother from me
Can't see him anymore
I still cry about it sometimes
This is actually a kind of personal poem. It's about my experience from a few of my foster homes, mainly my first. It was for a contest on another poetry website about PTSD. If you're interested, here's a link https://allpoetry.com/contest/2738892-Ptsd

— The End —