Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Split May 2018
a bean like no other
bitter and white;
a microscopic dynamite,
peristalsis using all its might

my cave so suspenseful and hollow
ridges lined along its curves
churning to my so-called mental benefit
those gastric juices now released,
microscopic dynamite
simply had one more muscle to defeat

a match at last perceived
microvilli yearning love ,
in, it took the dynamite.
yet confused it became as
micro relations only last a short while.

"Nutrients" absorbed,
betrayal on its way
the bloodstream sent in shock
oh such bloodless atriums
oh such vaulted ventricles.
oh how my blood flow met its end.

Although deceiving it had been
no promises were riven
the dynamite exploded
and at last
no longer was I broken.
Split Jun 2018
I'm confused
on how I feel.
why I feel.
how I should feel.
and how to feel.

60 minutes on 60 minutes
should've been on could've been
1,440 minutes of numb eyes
on pointless screens

my heart now beats to simply beat
no motivation towards a passion
no passion to propel a motivation

my fresh flesh decays
beneath acidic tears
that crawl out of me
like termites with a notion
of my poison

my urge to improve is deeply missed
back when my heart was the sun
a star that gave a tomorrow
but all I have is right now
a still moment full of sorrow
Split Aug 2018
Don’t look.
Go look.
No. Don’t go look.

I wait all day
I wait all night
Once midnight strikes
I know it’s time.

You are my poison in disguise.
The reason for my lies.

Red streaks on white
Veins all aligned
I know now you’ll speak your mind.

Words like water in broken glass
Each ear a sponge that always lasts.

Four hours until alarms quake.
Vulnerable conversations
Now somewhere in a deep dull lake.

But this one must be our last.
As I no longer wish to be your hearts cast.

My mind must accept
That the shreds of your love
Are not mine to repair.

For her actions have damaged your soul
Now we shall take a step back
And learn to be on our own.
zebra Dec 2018
i like it ickity split
mad to exceed the world
in dark dreams ******

to evoke blood wet mouths
insertions paradise of fluorescents
in a dark aperture

her pudenda
a rolling hill
gaudy wound like a smash mouth crying
split torn tearing, pink estuary
for gluttonies' joyride
that can hardly be endured
twisted tongue spice melts and glitters raw

the sheets soaked through
matted hair in saliva
blood and eggs
the screams of monsters rapture

oh feral abandon
every thing else a toil

winged *******
hell toys for mama
like heaven cant know

his *****
like hanging bats

Nagasaki goes off in her ***
bodies; quake in silence
the bedroom; a chaotic bathroom
tulips shrill flutter
gulp and swallow milks flame
rosy welts laughing
flushing ******'s

shoved urns
all spilled libations
touching and *******
crimson **** runnels
in bathhouse foam
down the drain
to earthen bowels din
where the dead push up daisies

i am the worm in the fruit
Split Jun 30
I used to crave human attention
but I'm in need of an evacuation.
Christopher May 2018
I was formed and once known,
Now no more.
But still apart of his world.

I'll always leave residue
So don't think I'm all gone, dude.
I've always haunted and proved,
You're nothing but a fool.

I just wanted you to see that you were something I didn't need.
Instead you made me beg and plead for you to leave. PLEASE!
But I did and left you a gift

No matter how much you shift or adrift, you'll always fall in my ways.
Even if you try so hard to prove to others that you are strong,
I proved you wrong.

So go ahead and write your songs.
Just let me know when I go global so they can know of your wrongs
I've always been with him and I'll be the reason he writes. Sorry, I mean why you write
Barker Mar 29
I don't know what's wrong with me.

I feel..off, like I'm watching reality from a distance.

I feel...empty, like I've been drained of all life.

I feel...anger, like someone did something very wrong to me.

I feel...pain, like someone stabbed me with needles repeatedly.

I feel...tired, like I haven't had a drop of shut eye in my 17 years of existence.

I feel...not myself, like someone cut a piece of me out.

And I don't know what's wrong with me.
And that scares me
(c)ibarker
Umi Apr 2018
Splitting the sea,
The wind I feel, keeps crossing over time, clearing the path between a sea of truth and lies, revealing what was hidden within such misery,
Amongst an ocean of common sense, opens the true pathway,
Cross it, by the miracle created in the dearness you held so close,
Caught within the border of life and death, you cannot be swept away
Don't be built on sand, the one you are walking on, wet, fragile and likely to fall apart within the barriers of water, pillars rising up to you, yet there is no need to worry, have faith, your transience remains
Distortion, clouded within judgement of two sides which only one is righteous about, oh how trecious, lies cannot win a long run yet try to
mislead and falsify the facts of life for ones owns benefits and needs,
The truth however, may be harsh and hard to take, yet has a sweeter taste than the best lie given, even though, you may end up deserted.
Those liars, they chase after you for not following them, yet when the sea collapses they surely will drown in the reigns of the truthful water
Looking at what I desire to accomplish, is to break the boundaries with this miraculous wind, be carried away, softly, gently swaying,
Carrying my wings, fighting on until the moment when I should fall,
Until the moment this path is overtaken by the ocean again

~ Umi
harlee kae Dec 2014
i still think of you
all the time.
but i think of him
now too.
and in my brain i'd have to say
you're the darkness
and he's the light.
though the choice may seem obvious,
i can't be with him too long
without wanting a little mystery..
Francie Lynch Feb 2018
Sometimes my life splits me in two,
In daytime I never dream of you;
But then I turn my nightlight off,
My real world brings me back to you;
The moon is sun,
The sun is you.
The poem of the nights I roam,
Roam the house in wonder,
I ponder these names of those of both whom I wish to behold,
who should I claim,
But I love them both just the same,
I know my heart is young,
But to whom does my heart belong?
Silent is my pain,
Silent is the night,
Silent is the heartache...
Like a furnace burns..
Shofi Ahmed Dec 2017
The moon is still hanging low
since it came down so close.

The seven seas dance
beneath her polished feet
but could never touch it.

Then the intact moon,
in fact, did unleash
only when one popped
out ahead of the rest.
Down from the earth
luminary Muhammad
Peace be upon him
pointed his finger towards it
and into two halves did the Moon split!

But the man wouldn’t touch it
and remained with us all
with every human the Moon dwarfs!
Commemorating the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). One of his miracles was that he split the moon after some pagans asked him to show them a miracle to prove he is a prophet.
Sir Douz Dante Oct 2016
Her calm face hid the enchanting smile i was used to,,
Her indifferent face hid the emotions i had come to know,
Her eyes, cold and calculating, hiding the paradise i enjoyed,,

I never intended to hurt her.,
Her fragile heart,,
Her pure emotions,,
If only i could turn back the hands of  time,
But i know better,
Its no use crying over spilt milk,,
I can only wait for her wrath.
Split Jun 11
want you
but
don't need you.

wonder if you feel
the way you used to.

7 billion souls yet
yours drowns me in laughter
causes an unprecedented smile
melting my surroundings
leaving just us two.

why are you most worthy
of my sleepless nights
           wishful tears
            inner pain?

who knew such terrible timing
could be the catalyst to all this
aching torture within my soul.

i wanted you.
          you had her.
you wanted me.
          i had begun to fall for him.

i've retorted to old habits:
longing the idea of us.

this time both seemingly free
undoubtedly chained to our past
to our sense of loyalty towards friends.

therefore you have moved on.
swept me away
into a state of pure confusion.

but you moved on
before i let myself trip.
before i allowed myself
to look into your kind eyes.
before i was able to see
all the love they laid upon me.

and once i let my senses free
yours
           had
                   left
                          me.
Split May 2018
Ask me how I am
Text me when you miss me
Ride your bike to my home
And don’t ever let me be alone

Tell me you adore me
Shower me in love
Don’t take me for granted
Be who we’ve always wanted

Kiss me with your words
Hug me when I’m sad
Wipe my tears away
And tell me there’s another way

But before you do all that
We must cross each others paths
Search our street
To make sure that we meet

Yet for the time being
Promise me that you’ll
Love
Care
And respect
The idea of me.
rook Feb 2018
am i you?
am i you, or am i me, or
is it somewhere in between?
when you’re with me, it’s like we’re complete
things feel like they’re as should be
so am i you, or am i me?
rook Feb 2018
i don’t know the things that i like.
i know what he likes
and i know what
he doesn’t.
what about me?
Egeria Litha Mar 9
It's a terrible sadness as friends encourage gladness

These words are coming from Attic
made of dust, mental bones, and metal woes

Inner worlds are static
becoming so dramatic
paralyzed by avoiding Choice

Chest is deep in emotions
Brain leaps away from Moment

I speak of these without articles
as separate entities
their own particles
making the front page
because that's what they are
Depression at its finest.
Relahxe Jun 7
I do not live: I burn. In acrimony raging
Two souls are dueling within my breast:
The soul of a devil, the soul of an angel.
Their breathing is flame and it gives me no rest.

Not one flame bursts but two - whatever I am touching,
And in each stone two heartbeats I hear clash…
Wherever I go there is an odious doubling
Of two warring faces, which vanish in ash.

And everywhere the wind that follows me is spreading
The ashes: all my footprints are effaced.
For I am not living - I burn! - and am shedding
A trail of grey ashes across a dim waste.
A translated poem by the Bulgarian symbolist poet and revolutionary Peyo Yavorov, the so called "singer of the soulful abysses", about the eternal bifurcation of the soul.
Translation by Peter Tempest.
Hg Jul 2018
take me back
to the first high

to the first time
that she and i

sparked a bit
of indica

euphoria
dilated eyes

take more hits
to revisit

before we split
to separate lives

take me backwards
reverse time

to my first love
to my first high
©Hg
Split Jun 19
It’s funny how they say time heals.
Yet every second that passes
We near an inevitable illness.
S Nirmal Kumar Sep 2018
Measured and calm
At times, reckless and merciless
Waves lapping on the beach
Split Sep 29
I've gotten used to sitting in my room.

A bright screen lighting up my face,

fingers typing at the speed of light,

reminiscing on all the things I used to feel.

Indeed, I want to say much more,

but . . .

there comes a point
where words
have served their deed.

Where there's not much more to say.
For what has been lived,
has
    been
          indulged,
              digested,
           ­      and passed through.

Go explore,
experience the unimaginable.
Then return to pump hearts full of:
        pain,
                  love,
                       ­    insight,
               and undetected truisms.
You
Fraternise with shadow
It will never split you solitary.
Better be alone
Instead of believing in fakes.
Orion Schwalm Jul 2018
There once was a time
Gone by, gone by,
Picking blackberries till the vine was plucked dry.

Pricked finger and the blood of kings
washed the riverbed clean again
paving path for new bled love.

Story of my life: Hot Hand-Grenade.
Tripwire tickled by trespassing travelers
Red wire arteries
clipped and clipped and clipped
and simple minded times when birds sang songs to other birds
and chirped lyrical lines in the dusk.
More wonder. More trust. Less wanderlust.
Dust in the air. Still in the sunlight.
Through glass.
Broke. Fall. Cut. All roads lead to home.
Wood, River, Stone. A guide, a path, alone.
We all walk on our own
Striving for independence
Together.

Now is a time of faded glory, daffodils in freshly-mowed fields.
I still catch myself wishing I had the words to share
The bigness of what's out there.
I still hear myself singing your song of longing.
Still find myself longing for days of childish peace and ignorance
when we could pick blackberries from the bush without bombs falling in our basket.
Still a long way to go to hear the sound of surrender and the silent unfurling of egos into how alone we feel.
Still my heart, that lost love long ago, and surrendered a savior forever.
Hart, of dreams, slip into the stream.
Interstitch the seams.
Next page