Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Lizzy Apr 2014
Relapse and rewind
This happens every ******* time.
I've been neglecting the drugs,
The ones that were supposed to save me.

They only make it worse
Make me feel more crazy.
But when the time comes
Where my tide breaks
I cannot hold my ground.
The monsters come to me
With deafening sound.

Whispers from malevolent lips
Sound so sweet.
Like candy for my starving soul.
And soon I'm on that sugar high.

Rushing cherry red
It's got such a lovely flavor.
Feeds my hunger
Satisfies my thirst.

It won't be long
Before I'm back for more.
Sam Hawkins Mar 2016
Carefree in leisure time, one blasé tourist,
almost happy, I once had collected a complicated stone;
after the sunny hours had ended and last opportunity
for keepsakes began.

In my hand the stone had kept all of its mouths sewn shut,
holding its amalgamated story, and likewise in the car,
on the plane, through US Customs where it was not
in the least suspected.

A thumbnail identity I now should guess at, marking an old date,
and fixing it to, with reasonable estimate, a map location:
Plot No. 243, East end of the island, slave sugar plantation,
the stone from the corner of a ruined sugarmill stair—
broken free by my criminal hand.

The stone like a bleached out mini-monolith,
square rectangular, could be stood on end;
was swollen at its center like a pulled cork.

What could have moved this sequestered world to opening?
That was not for me to exactly discover,
except what came on Christmas Day,
two days after my returning.

Slave watercourses, the sight of innumerable Dutch ships,
ballasted with human flesh and hewn rock
for sugar works buildings.

The drop at-arms-swish of the Driver’s bullwhip.
Flecks of spirit splayed on vegetation.

A mongrel dog barked beyond the windless wall of sugarcane
in centipede and mosquito heat.

Seaside, beautiful seaside impressions;
distant coral light shadows, etched deep azure;
snowy colored breakers that pencil-marked the sea.
The staid, vibrant, mocking power
of visual symphony backdrop.

So little of aid for the slaves, but for those dangerous secrets,
un-housed in the fallen coolness of the night:
demonstratively crystalline heaven of stars;
a ragged moon, clouds scudding eastward toward Africa.
And there -- Orion’s Belt, mid-sky, illustrious bright,
with its three centering star points in rational line,
as if Hope could have flung its anchor onto Life
engendering sanctified resistance.

Christmas morning, 5 a.m.
I had awakened from a stuck place, shapeless and dark,
half in dreaming and half knowing I was in no dream.

I was sobbing, yet strangely, because there were no tears.
I had only put the stone inside my pajama top onto my heart.
a story of what happened...a feeling and vision I had, in 2008. written then. the stone is piece of mortar...
kerri Jun 2016
you tasted like lemons,
although that's my favorite flavor,
the sourness should've been a warning
Sudipta Maity Feb 23
If I say you girl
you are inside
my neuron world.
Would you belive?
Or if I send you a mail
MRI scan report attatched.
Will you read?
Belive me or not.
The sparking in
my Vegas nerve are not lying.
An afgan ****.
***** to ***
Whiskey to Wine
I had tried everything-
the doctor pescribed.
But,  it's my nercotic nerve
stop receiving all signals
It polarised at my SA and AV node
by your high sugar smile.
lirau May 2017
the lake is rippling
like worn blankets covering the water
ebbing
dangerously close to the boardwalk's edge.

I turn and walk away,
my back yearns for the vast open lake
as if it were a sea I could lose myself in
instead I am lost to the city.
Cecil Miller Sep 2017
Ain't no woman for me, no, no,
'Cept the Lady Annabelle.
I'm gonna tell the story,
'Bout how she put me through hell.

I said to my Lady,
"You can have whatever you claim."
She took her box to the Northern fields;
She filled her box with the sugar cane.

I said, "Why'd ja have to break my heart?
Why'd ja have to break my heart?"

Aint't no kind of feeling
Like when your heart is in some pain.
And it don't help at all to know
She filled her box with the sugar cane.

I said, "Why'd ja have to break my heart?
Why'd ja have to break my heart?"
Facebook me at CJ Miller to hear a rough draft musical version. This is the start of lyrics to be set to a slow to moderate blues bass rhythm.
Oli Apr 12
i'm mounting my bicycle
i'm minding the pain in my gums
in my eyes and the sun
and the candy rappers, little candy rappers
there's blood on my palms
there's a trail in the dirt
there's an older man, holding hands with his small daughter
and he smiles back
and now i have a reference, but not today
today i suffer
allow me to suffer
my mouth full of sugar, and a muffled "no"
no, no
no, not today
you're not allowed to save me
i have shiny clothes and my mouth is sticky,
red
you're not allowed to take me
save me, erin
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ZENjv1ZUC_6bb3bRqT8Z7TkqQ81zUIKN/view?usp=drivesdk
Emma Sep 2018
The best part about you leaving
Is forgetting you.
It’s as though the sugar you injected into me
To keep me sweet for you,
And only you,
Is dying off;
Slowly but surely,
Until the only part of you that will
Remain in my body
Is the notch in my heart.

You will always own that
Notch in my heart.
It will always make me care for you,
And make it like my heart always beat for two.
It will always skip a beat
When I see you in the streets.
The smell of burnt tobacco
Will always make my hands tie knots into the bedsheets,
All for you.

I used to believe
That with your sweet honey
Injected into my heart,
I would never be able to forget you,
Much less let you go.
But now, I see that lovers will
Come and go.
You do not own the sweet tune
That makes me undress for you;
And better will come after you.
You leaving hurt, yes,
But without you I am whole.
Brown your skin
Sweet sugar your taste

Me young we met
People mock  -They don't understand
Me too hate myself

Blue tie for you
Stole mobile number from paper
Everything so we will get closer

Four years chasing
No regret even a bit
Thursday will be the last Oh honey

The sad air fill my lungs as soon as me arrived
This small island keep a lot of our stories
I want to leave I want to stay

I wonder if we will meet later
Bet you still look young and shine
Oh that small teeth when you smile

Sweet darling
Beautiful Man
You are is will always forever my sweetest misery.
it's been a while since I saw you..
Stu Harley Sep 2018
oh
sweet
night
have
nothing left
but
to
gorge herself
upon
the
sugar plum stars
i
must confess
Pleasant coffee smell.
Two slice of sugar.
So tasty on my tongue.
I'm sitting here alone.
Alone in cafeteria.

Sweetie bun of caramel.
Slowly melting in my mouth.
Taste buds of mine, awake.
Like instincts get alive.

People sliding up and down.
Life burn.
All hastily run.
I'm sit alone.

I won't run anymore.
I walk slow now.
I stopped long time ago.
Pleasant coffee smell.
Bitter Taste of sugar.
sara Aug 2018
I'll see what I can make
out of the leftovers I have.
Although, it's never too long
until the milk turns bad,

until a love turns sour
in an online second;
since, an online minute
wastes a real-life hour.

But in a snap-shot moment,
I can find life for weeks
on my stash of sugar truths,
until I forget to eat;

forget to breathe;
'til I don't even need to sleep
because the lovehearts on my photos
sing such soft melodies.

And despite the fact
that often I can't sit at ease,
somehow this perfect madness
always tastes so bittersweet.
a poem about the addictive nature of social media
Next page