Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Miley L Apr 2015
Blurred roaring sidewalks
bordered empty highways
and in the name of regret
I forgot that my mother told me to say
"I'm sorry"
instead of
"I hate you"
Didn't matter
you couldn't tell the difference
anyways
because it was too dark to see tears
Pooled up in the corner of my eyes
star-drops in a dim constellation

San Fransisco was foggy that day
with every breath the world ever took from my lungs
and you couldn't see through it
But god, was it
breathtaking, ha
Then they declared me a traffic hazard,
so we went on break for a day

I should've known that sailboats were prone to leaking
like hearts that someone went stabby-stabby at
We were soaked in the scent of rose thorns, and-The
Pandora's Box-we put our faith in something unknown
What were we thinking--
jumped off the side and expected to fly

There's a light at the end of the tunnel, they say
I'm lost
and
well
it's rather impossible to find the North Star when your sky is so caliginous
andrea tennille Sep 2013
you
gone yet closer
leaving, moving, changing
wake us up before you leave
bye
Lauren Nicole Jun 2011
crackle
goes the fire
possessed
by my ****** heart  

Flying sticky waves
Of achy-stabby sweetness
Going towards the boys
Towards the girls, to everyone

A never-ending flash
Induces a hyperactive coma
We all sleep together
With our organs jumping around inside

A complicated mix of particles
Together form waves
Just like light that comes from grandma's lamp
Soft like a kitten  

This panting babbling concourse of love  
We understand it like frogs driving cars
Races through our minds like molasses
It fills us with *****, sweet *****
Maniacal Escape Jun 2020
Tread lightly on shards of comfort
Outstretched blades of rust stab at welcomeness
Place your blade in your scabbard sword dancer
Swivel and point, smile and wave, and slice and suffer
Your hole pours red. Life gleefully leaves its husk.
Ana Habib Oct 2019
Know what I hate the most about myself after a big fight
a heated discussion
a nasty row
The fact that I cant remain calm
The fact that I cant sit still
The fact that I cant keep quiet when all I really want is to blurt something out something negative
Something hurtful
Something stabby
Something that will make me feel better for a split second and hurt him for days
Its not always possible to be the bigger person
Its not always easy to take the high road
Is this what happens when you have kept quiet for way to long?
Act nice to those who you really don’t like just out of good manners and cultural norms?
Look the other way just to keep the peace?
Nobody likes living in a house filled with angry words that scar up the walls
Nasty looks that stain glass
Resentment that lingers everywhere
From room to room
Like worst smell you can think off
Bitterness that is so strong that concrete and brick weigh nothing
I am tired
I wish I could get lost
Forget my way home and throw the key away in the nearest bit of water
let it rust away like the memory of my first night with you
It would still be the same ugly house
Even if someone has cleaned up the insides the old fashioned away with a bucket mop sponge and toothbrush
Fix up all the doors and windows
Slap on a glossy coat of paint
Make the bathroom squeak
Make the kitchen smell like freshly baked cookies
Place a new welcome mat
There are two main ways to hold a knife;
One point up, and one point down.
Now, in a knife fight, the prize is your life;
Not just avoiding some slit in your gown.

So you've got to get it right, this is a fight;
But which is the better way?
Well, perhaps it would shed some light
If we see what the treatises say.

Now, they seem quite clear;
They prefer by far the downward, or ice-pick grip;
True, the other way they don't exactly bar,
But they never show us that flip.

It's of the rondel that they seek to teach us;
It's thin and stabby and long.
But, what sort of techniques have failed to reach us?
Perhaps the choice of the rondel is wrong?

Now I learnt my knife fighting with a knife like this;
It's shorter and fatter and cut-y.
An attacker with this [the rondel] is just *******
Against me with this; he's surely putty!

I learnt through re-enactment and kung fu,
Not late medieval sources,
And I know that complacency will never do,
So I took some HEMA courses.

I went along with an open mind,
And took a wooden thing like this (for safety's sake).
I tried out their moves to see what I could find,
And, boy, the next day I didn't half ache.

I found that my first suspicion proved true:
The ice-pick grip limits your angles.
There really is just one thing you can do,
and I'd like more options when my life dangles
by a thread, I'm this close to death,
I can feel my heart's heartbeat drumming;
This could be my last pain-free breath.
With just one opening move, he'll see it coming!

It's a good stab, I'll grant you:
It's hard and downward and deadly,
But one stab is many too few.
Now, you hold it this way, you've got a medley!

Try this: hold it 'ice-pick' on the outward side;
You get to here and you're weak, and in pain.
A half-decent force here [the wrist] applied,
And down you go, unlikely to rise again.

It's feeble, and slow, and so easy to block;
An attack from here just spells doom.
I mean, look: you've near enough got me in an arm-lock
And you're not even in the same room!

Now, the treatises do show some attacks
That drop low, and come up like so;
But try that, and I'll be relaxed;
A big move like that is so slow.

You offer your elbow like this to a foe,
One push exposes your back and your head.
So I know you're not going to land that blow;
Before that: forget it, you're dead.

Now, almost everything starts from here [the stab];
So after the block, what next?
Well, assuming you can overcome your fear,
You could try what it says in the text.

Typically you start by grabbing the blade;
It's long, so it serves well as a lever;
Its length acts as a disarming aid;
And it's thin, so it's not much of a cleaver.

But it's often, at least, just a little bit sharp;
So, oh! Mightn't you cut your finger?
Well, the alternative is you start playing the harp,
So just grab it, this is no time to linger.

Now, I'll choose something shorter and sharper,
And I'll grip it my way, and we'll see who's the harper!
And while you go in for some big twist,
I'll slash you - it's quicker - and put a **** in your wrist.

I'll cut through your tendons, under your arm,
And turn your limb into so much slack rope.
I have faith in the speed I do harm.
You dope, to pin on ice-pick grip your hope.

There are other ways, as shown by the likes of Fairbairn Skyes
To stab and slash in a hundred strikes!

So come our dagger duel, I'll hold it my way.
You hold it yours, and we'll see who carries the day


Having taken pause to reflect...
Maybe I wouldn't.
Because that's just what you'd expect.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bteyMFfeaYk

— The End —