"symbiotic" poems - Hello Poetry

this feeling is not symbiotic: you reduce my core to nothing

0

Aug 26, 2019

Aug 26, 2019 at 10:24 AM UTC

three

i will love you until there is nothing left of me

this feeling is not symbiotic: you reduce my core to nothing

3

Crawl to me on all fours, and fix me with those eyes. Gleaming ivory in the pale darkness. Suitored to alien mires, foreign environments of crawling dust and spires of simplistic grace. That we move into. That we move into as finger pads touch skin and lips and wet tongue tips that grace the very edge of taste itself. The sonata of flesh has begun as we begin this symbiotic ballet that signifies the end, the start, but not the middle of our burning tryst. which burns brightly in summer night heat, washing down the walls separating me from you and you from yourself. Fix me with those eyes once more, tilt the timer; make the moments slow And the gas lit beam dance and grow to our scaly sonata of flesh. Played without violin or cello or trumpet noise or flute. But with arms, and lips and hair and bust and drums. There are always drums; beating on through the night, beating their primal rhythm as you crawl towards me, on all fours, in that oroborus of lust; symbiotic with itself, reflecting off itself; encased in itself. Crawl to me on all fours Crawl to me - And taste of my being.

0

Nov 10, 2011

Nov 10, 2011 at 10:46 PM UTC

lysander-gray

The Oroborus of Lust

Crawl to me on all fours, and fix me with those eyes. Gleaming ivory in the pale darkness. Suitored to alien mires, foreign environments of crawling dust and spires of simplistic grace. That we move into. That we move into as finger pads touch skin and lips and wet tongue tips that grace the very edge of taste itself. The sonata of flesh has begun as we begin this symbiotic ballet that signifies the end, the start, but not the middle of our burning tryst. which burns brightly in summer night heat, washing down the walls separating me from you and you from yourself. Fix me with those eyes once more, tilt the timer; make the moments slow And the gas lit beam dance and grow to our scaly sonata of flesh. Played without violin or cello or trumpet noise or flute. But with arms, and lips and hair and bust and drums. There are always drums; beating on through the night, beating their primal rhythm as you crawl towards me, on all fours, in that oroborus of lust; symbiotic with itself, reflecting off itself; encased in itself. Crawl to me on all fours Crawl to me - And taste of my being.

29

I locked eyes with the street last night and it dared me to turn away turn from the injustice inequalities ignorance move on to some romantic scene that lives outside the grey I wrapped its cold wet skin around my neck and began to shiver as the rocks began to scrape scratch slither in my veins as one hundred unknown faces paddled their way down river I tasted grief and empathy and the mix was all too vile more bitter than any sympathy symbiotic synergy gears were painting machinery cranking out disquiet and bile It was then I found its corner and the music it seemed to breathe and despite my hesitation hysteria hellish intent on fiction The asphalt smile began to grow and pave my mind at ease

0

Apr 8, 2013

Apr 8, 2013 at 11:15 PM UTC

steven-hutchison

The Street 8/30

I locked eyes with the street last night and it dared me to turn away turn from the injustice inequalities ignorance move on to some romantic scene that lives outside the grey I wrapped its cold wet skin around my neck and began to shiver as the rocks began to scrape scratch slither in my veins as one hundred unknown faces paddled their way down river I tasted grief and empathy and the mix was all too vile more bitter than any sympathy symbiotic synergy gears were painting machinery cranking out disquiet and bile It was then I found its corner and the music it seemed to breathe and despite my hesitation hysteria hellish intent on fiction The asphalt smile began to grow and pave my mind at ease

28

Nearly home. The bed And the slippers grow ever closer. A memory of things that give comfort seem palatial, Euphoric in the mind's eye, Though I do seem to ponder of its romanticized reality Memories always seem so warm. In reality, The things that hold others close are affirming. Love, Shared events Symbiotic empathy, But given the current state... The boring, The mundane, The trivial and the tedious that makes the most of a lifetime Are omitted from the mind. But why not have a memory full of nothing but the nothingness of life? The train rides? Waiting for the toaster to splay its insides So I can feast on its wonderful toasty goodness? Talking to the tenant who does not understand That a bouncing leg And constant time updates are signposts to **** off? Empty the files of my brain And fill it with the moments of nothing. These moments and these alone Are your true self. if you are a good person Is not determined by How many charities earn your pay Or how many items stored, What you are is chosen by the lonely, The solitary, The Tigress. Only when you accept that person, You are happy And free. But don't hold your breath.

0

Mar 15, 2013

Mar 15, 2013 at 11:29 AM UTC

egaeus-thompson

3. Roam The Land

Nearly home. The bed And the slippers grow ever closer. A memory of things that give comfort seem palatial, Euphoric in the mind's eye, Though I do seem to ponder of its romanticized reality Memories always seem so warm. In reality, The things that hold others close are affirming. Love, Shared events Symbiotic empathy, But given the current state... The boring, The mundane, The trivial and the tedious that makes the most of a lifetime Are omitted from the mind. But why not have a memory full of nothing but the nothingness of life? The train rides? Waiting for the toaster to splay its insides So I can feast on its wonderful toasty goodness? Talking to the tenant who does not understand That a bouncing leg And constant time updates are signposts to **** off? Empty the files of my brain And fill it with the moments of nothing. These moments and these alone Are your true self. if you are a good person Is not determined by How many charities earn your pay Or how many items stored, What you are is chosen by the lonely, The solitary, The Tigress. Only when you accept that person, You are happy And free. But don't hold your breath.

39

You know you are a parasite But I will let you feed off of me Sometimes I desire the poison And a little dose is healthy now and then Because what I have is also yours And I live for you, I eat for you, I survive for you Your primary host They say you will destroy me from the inside out But I lured you in, I consciously made you part of me You did not come uninvited, and that is the point You came willingly So I feed myself you as you nourish yourself through me A symbiotic relationship For I do not go where I am not wanted Through good and bad times we (d)evolve together A true matrimony Now forever covalently bonded

0

May 3, 2019

May 3, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC

frankie-gestone

Un Parassita

You know you are a parasite But I will let you feed off of me Sometimes I desire the poison And a little dose is healthy now and then Because what I have is also yours And I live for you, I eat for you, I survive for you Your primary host They say you will destroy me from the inside out But I lured you in, I consciously made you part of me You did not come uninvited, and that is the point You came willingly So I feed myself you as you nourish yourself through me A symbiotic relationship For I do not go where I am not wanted Through good and bad times we (d)evolve together A true matrimony Now forever covalently bonded

17

Indian pipes rise ghostly from ancient compost of needled tears shed white bells corpse-silent shunning Light’s vital touch sleeping instead in symbiotic beds of gracious hosts, who in turn kiss the feet of living Giants lushly burning gilded rays to fuel their green economy

0

Sep 14, 2016

Sep 14, 2016 at 9:34 AM UTC

denel-kessler

Group Cooperative

Indian pipes rise ghostly from ancient compost of needled tears shed white bells corpse-silent shunning Light’s vital touch sleeping instead in symbiotic beds of gracious hosts, who in turn kiss the feet of living Giants lushly burning gilded rays to fuel their green economy

10

Sitting up late at night with smoke seen through the t.v light. I don't rest 'cause bed bugs bite It's like I'm my own parasite. Not symbiotic nor chronic, just nicotine and glowing screens. Bloodshot eyes even though I'm clean. A high intake of caffeine, keeps away my lucid dreams or nightmares. It's called despair. To dwell on a concept, reliving the consequence. The past is no investment. The future is a slight nuance Its here that matters. Eat not of a tin platter This letter is self addressed When your up at night and your mind won't rest Can't figure out if your cursed or blessed It's the present that grades your test.

0

Nov 13, 2012

Nov 13, 2012 at 8:15 PM UTC

timothy-brown

Bloodshot

Sitting up late at night with smoke seen through the t.v light. I don't rest 'cause bed bugs bite It's like I'm my own parasite. Not symbiotic nor chronic, just nicotine and glowing screens. Bloodshot eyes even though I'm clean. A high intake of caffeine, keeps away my lucid dreams or nightmares. It's called despair. To dwell on a concept, reliving the consequence. The past is no investment. The future is a slight nuance Its here that matters. Eat not of a tin platter This letter is self addressed When your up at night and your mind won't rest Can't figure out if your cursed or blessed It's the present that grades your test.

22

1 *Gongs and drums sound rambunctious, a wild rhythm tears the silence of the night, a slow number first, then in quick time racing fast,everything ends in a blast. his self control lost, he dances like one possessed, in the moon lit places and shadows alike. This angst is not his alone, he feels, as if mad at the way the world these days is. Freedom of a special kind, it was, catharsis, drums sounding mysterious, made life different. 2 Once when he and his girl were making love deep in his veins drums rumbled, and he couldn't but stop and listen, she was curious,"What is this, what do you listen?" smiling, he resumed his dance thorough the valley and plains, like wind, to the tune of temple drums, his hair flying and sweat pouring like rain, she could catch the change of rhythm intense love was there, in the depth of fury. Then, they ended up panting,then lying quiet. holding each other tight,she said; "you are like one possessed, fantastic," but he had felt the presence of a third, he felt in his bones, a benign female presence, who is she? 3 The oracle holding a sword with a shining blade, wearing a red silk turban and a white **** cloth, told: "It's the possession of a woman, a wild spirit, her songs and dance were snuffed out at a young age, when it slowly emerged, it happened at a time we don't know when, a kindred spirit, your tumult suits her soul." the oracle was in a trance when he opened his eyes, "Not a curse, a blessing, symbiotic it is" the oracle threw a bit of holy ash on him and said: "Well son, in you Devi, the mother goddess is pleased, this spirit will survive, her speakings will come out from you, all will be just fine, being kind you received her, so pleased and contented she is, wouldn't disturb" They walked together, the woman without a body to fulfill her dreams or sing her songs, at times of loneliness the drums sound, she comes in to his tumultuous soul, he makes her alight, in their entwined destiney, he sings her songs, they dance.*

0

Jan 13, 2014

Jan 13, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC

k-balachandran

A Tumultuous Possession

1 *Gongs and drums sound rambunctious, a wild rhythm tears the silence of the night, a slow number first, then in quick time racing fast,everything ends in a blast. his self control lost, he dances like one possessed, in the moon lit places and shadows alike. This angst is not his alone, he feels, as if mad at the way the world these days is. Freedom of a special kind, it was, catharsis, drums sounding mysterious, made life different. 2 Once when he and his girl were making love deep in his veins drums rumbled, and he couldn't but stop and listen, she was curious,"What is this, what do you listen?" smiling, he resumed his dance thorough the valley and plains, like wind, to the tune of temple drums, his hair flying and sweat pouring like rain, she could catch the change of rhythm intense love was there, in the depth of fury. Then, they ended up panting,then lying quiet. holding each other tight,she said; "you are like one possessed, fantastic," but he had felt the presence of a third, he felt in his bones, a benign female presence, who is she? 3 The oracle holding a sword with a shining blade, wearing a red silk turban and a white **** cloth, told: "It's the possession of a woman, a wild spirit, her songs and dance were snuffed out at a young age, when it slowly emerged, it happened at a time we don't know when, a kindred spirit, your tumult suits her soul." the oracle was in a trance when he opened his eyes, "Not a curse, a blessing, symbiotic it is" the oracle threw a bit of holy ash on him and said: "Well son, in you Devi, the mother goddess is pleased, this spirit will survive, her speakings will come out from you, all will be just fine, being kind you received her, so pleased and contented she is, wouldn't disturb" They walked together, the woman without a body to fulfill her dreams or sing her songs, at times of loneliness the drums sound, she comes in to his tumultuous soul, he makes her alight, in their entwined destiney, he sings her songs, they dance.*

49

I’m the excommunicated extra extraditing your excess excrement, extricating specimens of your essence getting especially excited call me the exorcist enlightened, a devil exercising a frightening double existence. Conscious constant resistance from a heavy conscience that lives in the conscientious angel hidden deep within a very contentious prison of flesh fresh from living a half-life, given a dark light, splitting apart like I’m shining through a prism. Divine intuition combined with true sinning. Pinning down angelic powers devoured in hellish prowess, Tyler’s now a super-villain. I’m my own double, troubled my other call me Jorge Dostoevsky a symbiotic brother.

0

Mar 31, 2013

Mar 31, 2013 at 5:34 AM UTC

preech

The Exorcist

I’m the excommunicated extra extraditing your excess excrement, extricating specimens of your essence getting especially excited call me the exorcist enlightened, a devil exercising a frightening double existence. Conscious constant resistance from a heavy conscience that lives in the conscientious angel hidden deep within a very contentious prison of flesh fresh from living a half-life, given a dark light, splitting apart like I’m shining through a prism. Divine intuition combined with true sinning. Pinning down angelic powers devoured in hellish prowess, Tyler’s now a super-villain. I’m my own double, troubled my other call me Jorge Dostoevsky a symbiotic brother.

17

the fluorescent haze of midnight in the city observent, patient, longing hands cradling nectar caffeinated teeth pulling at the flesh of your lips intergalactic mind smattered with careless constellations I think my gravity has been stolen my symbiotic smile stems from the curl of your lips I think my autonomy is buried with my rationality The husk of Persephone’s fruit Stale on my tongue I bathe in the honeyed promises that ooze until liquid fills my lungs and I am consumed

0

Aug 18, 2018

Aug 18, 2018 at 6:03 PM UTC

liminalise

Am I in your veins yet pt. II (remastered)

the fluorescent haze of midnight in the city observent, patient, longing hands cradling nectar caffeinated teeth pulling at the flesh of your lips intergalactic mind smattered with careless constellations I think my gravity has been stolen my symbiotic smile stems from the curl of your lips I think my autonomy is buried with my rationality The husk of Persephone’s fruit Stale on my tongue I bathe in the honeyed promises that ooze until liquid fills my lungs and I am consumed

15

Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance. Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate. Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive. Protractive analyses' dimensional delineations. Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis. Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics. Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime. Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush. Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply? Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious. Impromptu innuendo's juncture. Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital. Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies. Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary. Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties. Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain, propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued. The question remains on the tribal: how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them. It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician. Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it. Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation. Detinue perfective. Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution. Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare. Unicorn railway nails. Swarthy ******** swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.

0

May 28, 2019

May 28, 2019 at 12:10 PM UTC

toreinss-pinwinkel-iii

Astral Projection's Existential Hubris

Distance traveled time spent's dynamic progressiveness, existentially transcendental's clairaudience clairvoyance. Metaphysical mystique’s evolutionally metamorphic futurity's fatidic incarnate. Due yesterday’s retrospectively retroactive. Protractive analyses' dimensional delineations. Enigma entity’s dexterously tactile acuity and coordinated agility on the identity crisis. Cerebral cortex’s ****** matrix to synaptic syntax semantics. Prospectus perplexity surreally sublime. Quagmire quandary’s poshly plush. Who am I to think I can conception of the infinite supply? Even the syntactics of eclectic synectics pale by compare to the atrociously impetuous impudence in pugnaciously audacious. Impromptu innuendo's juncture. Imagination’s immaturities are psychic clarity’s entelechy to evolutional tenants élan vital. Fiduciary principle's financially responsible fiscal policies. Mercenary mendacity's plenary plenipotentiary. Innocuous noumenal verity, mystic symbiotic’s chicanery dynamism fealties. Proximity parameter’s perimeter peripherals, vicinity victuals to vigilante villain, propinquity habitation’s harbingers of harangued. The question remains on the tribal: how can I stand next to the person I’m standing next to if I’m carrying on right through them. It’s the trajectory extant in spatiotemporal's telemetry tactician. Well graspy greedy on the stingy frugal to mingy minion and paw flaw laws claws on it. Get a glove, objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iota’s of self-inductive interstitial extrapolation. Detinue perfective. Traveling down this obtusely overt contusion in my vehicular contrivance convection convolution. Nimbus nimiety exorcism’s aura roan to rainbow mare. Unicorn railway nails. Swarthy ******** swath swizzles on the sweaty swelter swerve to verve.

1

It's such a beautiful relationship like birds cleaning crocodile teeth feeding on what didn't make it to the stomach these words rely on me A vessel and hopefully they don't act like hermit ***** because without them I would just be a *** who drinks and smokes too much But as long as I have the ability to manipulate the world around me in the chaotic rush of my infinite mental expanses and nooks and crannies I can give them life like a midwife I bring them into the world and name them poems or stories so that they might live forever burned in the retinas of strangers or etched on the wood of my desk I hope we will always need each other

0

Feb 26, 2013

Feb 26, 2013 at 10:55 AM UTC

harry-j-baxter

symbiotic

It's such a beautiful relationship like birds cleaning crocodile teeth feeding on what didn't make it to the stomach these words rely on me A vessel and hopefully they don't act like hermit ***** because without them I would just be a *** who drinks and smokes too much But as long as I have the ability to manipulate the world around me in the chaotic rush of my infinite mental expanses and nooks and crannies I can give them life like a midwife I bring them into the world and name them poems or stories so that they might live forever burned in the retinas of strangers or etched on the wood of my desk I hope we will always need each other

25

Oh deep, dark depression, my uninvited guest, the persistence of oppression is precluding my life’s zest. The dark before sunrise of a dawn that just won't break, suppressed by a thirst for my soul that only sorrow can now slake. The wisps that you are weaving are clouding my damp eyes, a cold and cloying shroud that’s covering all that I desire. A void, with sides so steeply etched and burning with cold dread, I’m trembling now with fragile fear and wondering if I dare tread. Your shadow wraps me in its arms to hold me once again, a old familiar friend that’s feeding fast upon my pain. A symbiotic succor and reluctant shield of sighs from the turmoil of a life that turned to tears before my eyes. And the sleep within my veins now washes over silent souls, a mind numbing response to a desperate, lonely call. I’m crying out from within the prison of this decaying fragile frame and I hide my face behind a smile from relentless passionate pain. Oh deep, dark depression, my uninvited guest, the darkness you are dealing leaves my soul with little rest. Now your fog has engulfed me to the edges of my world, I hope and pray that one day soon, my wings will be unfurled. Written by Darren Scanlon, 2nd June 2014. Revised 20th August 2015. ©2014 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

0

Aug 20, 2015

Aug 20, 2015 at 6:59 PM UTC

darren-scanlon

THE UNINVITED GUEST

Oh deep, dark depression, my uninvited guest, the persistence of oppression is precluding my life’s zest. The dark before sunrise of a dawn that just won't break, suppressed by a thirst for my soul that only sorrow can now slake. The wisps that you are weaving are clouding my damp eyes, a cold and cloying shroud that’s covering all that I desire. A void, with sides so steeply etched and burning with cold dread, I’m trembling now with fragile fear and wondering if I dare tread. Your shadow wraps me in its arms to hold me once again, a old familiar friend that’s feeding fast upon my pain. A symbiotic succor and reluctant shield of sighs from the turmoil of a life that turned to tears before my eyes. And the sleep within my veins now washes over silent souls, a mind numbing response to a desperate, lonely call. I’m crying out from within the prison of this decaying fragile frame and I hide my face behind a smile from relentless passionate pain. Oh deep, dark depression, my uninvited guest, the darkness you are dealing leaves my soul with little rest. Now your fog has engulfed me to the edges of my world, I hope and pray that one day soon, my wings will be unfurled. Written by Darren Scanlon, 2nd June 2014. Revised 20th August 2015. ©2014 Darren Scanlon. All rights reserved.

43

~Christi Michaels~September 2014~ We are not symbiotic any more I lay in our soft warm bed I slumber to your snore Our heart's and minds have drifted To other continents shores We walk in two dimensions Though parallel they may seem Find it so very difficult Imaging the way we used to be This is such a simple tale Of love thats gone amiss. The problem here The difficult reality Is what to do with This. Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.

0

Feb 4, 2015

Feb 4, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC

ChristiMichaels

symbiotic

~Christi Michaels~September 2014~ We are not symbiotic any more I lay in our soft warm bed I slumber to your snore Our heart's and minds have drifted To other continents shores We walk in two dimensions Though parallel they may seem Find it so very difficult Imaging the way we used to be This is such a simple tale Of love thats gone amiss. The problem here The difficult reality Is what to do with This. Copyright © 2015 Christi Michaels. All Rights Reserved.

17

I truly have a love...hate... relationship between believing... what I know and... knowing what I believe... Symbiotic... and toxic... It's a detailed. enigma... My curse... My passion... an ever present pull... with stubborn intent often directly opposed To the path which I am on... When I was much younger I developed a systemic and purposeful mission to design the person I was to become I had carefully weighed... tested and mapped out my "edges" finally setteling on habits, personalities and a type of lifestyle... this allows me a precarious balance... between honor, appearances and fair exchange .. friendship, acceptance and fun... Something rare during my colorful and... then recent childhood... Like I said... young... and well... Once I found my path... I stubbornly believed... That no others... existed...for me Really young... ...hee hee hee As we all know... life happens ... ...and I rolled and flowed... and always seed to manage But I didn't bloom... I just became really good at being me. Just missing... a really good second... again waiting...to become...

0

Dec 11, 2013

Dec 11, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC

suzanne-penn

Accepting Serendipity...

I truly have a love...hate... relationship between believing... what I know and... knowing what I believe... Symbiotic... and toxic... It's a detailed. enigma... My curse... My passion... an ever present pull... with stubborn intent often directly opposed To the path which I am on... When I was much younger I developed a systemic and purposeful mission to design the person I was to become I had carefully weighed... tested and mapped out my "edges" finally setteling on habits, personalities and a type of lifestyle... this allows me a precarious balance... between honor, appearances and fair exchange .. friendship, acceptance and fun... Something rare during my colorful and... then recent childhood... Like I said... young... and well... Once I found my path... I stubbornly believed... That no others... existed...for me Really young... ...hee hee hee As we all know... life happens ... ...and I rolled and flowed... and always seed to manage But I didn't bloom... I just became really good at being me. Just missing... a really good second... again waiting...to become...

62

Everyone dismisses me as insane, But I am a prophet, Profiting, On the inane. When I get lost in stargazing My cup of cardamom chai Configuring constellations of cream, I pocket piping hot horoscopes Right out of the tea kettle. Remember -- I drink in the universe, Sanctimoniously symbiotic. So the next time I offer, To read your tea leaves, Left dried at the bottom of the cup, Don't scoff me off, Because what I do, Is translate the universe's art.

0

Aug 8, 2013

Aug 8, 2013 at 10:22 PM UTC

attemptatbeingartsy

The Frustrated Fortune Teller

Everyone dismisses me as insane, But I am a prophet, Profiting, On the inane. When I get lost in stargazing My cup of cardamom chai Configuring constellations of cream, I pocket piping hot horoscopes Right out of the tea kettle. Remember -- I drink in the universe, Sanctimoniously symbiotic. So the next time I offer, To read your tea leaves, Left dried at the bottom of the cup, Don't scoff me off, Because what I do, Is translate the universe's art.

18

Love is like a disease it spreads. Hatred is an itch when you keep Scratching it. It Fester an kills you. When i think about the things I've said. Feelings I felt. I melt inside. It turns my in sides out. My heart combust An I hate myself. Why are I not enough. Denial will have you walk for miles. Sorrow is a sweet after taste of a sucker punch of truth. Loneliness is only a symptom. An that to will pass. I am a enigma of feeling. I cry when the rain falls to hard. When the wind blows in the wrong directions. I'm poetic. I'm also a stepping stone. The men I've let erase my soul an rewrite my blueprint. The salty tears I cry are almost symbiotic. Another symptom. Like a sonnet short an sweet. Running in a circle walking a fine line. Waiting to leap. Is it a crime to work 9 to 9. Roller coaster emotinal train wreck. An I think to myself who will love me. I bare myself to the pit an it asks me if I'll jump. I reply not today. Slumped down I step closer to the edge. I reenact self destructive behaviors daily. Am I considered an addict. I seek validation from namless phantoms. I named them my self conscious. Are you listening my beating heart gets louder. I order cream an chowder. Sips slow on estacy. Love an lust sleep next to me. I'm smothered in one while I'm blocked to the other. Exits are closed off I think where is my mother. I shudder remembering I'm alone.

0

Oct 30, 2018

Oct 30, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC

Veshalyamoriee

My broken heart wrote this

Love is like a disease it spreads. Hatred is an itch when you keep Scratching it. It Fester an kills you. When i think about the things I've said. Feelings I felt. I melt inside. It turns my in sides out. My heart combust An I hate myself. Why are I not enough. Denial will have you walk for miles. Sorrow is a sweet after taste of a sucker punch of truth. Loneliness is only a symptom. An that to will pass. I am a enigma of feeling. I cry when the rain falls to hard. When the wind blows in the wrong directions. I'm poetic. I'm also a stepping stone. The men I've let erase my soul an rewrite my blueprint. The salty tears I cry are almost symbiotic. Another symptom. Like a sonnet short an sweet. Running in a circle walking a fine line. Waiting to leap. Is it a crime to work 9 to 9. Roller coaster emotinal train wreck. An I think to myself who will love me. I bare myself to the pit an it asks me if I'll jump. I reply not today. Slumped down I step closer to the edge. I reenact self destructive behaviors daily. Am I considered an addict. I seek validation from namless phantoms. I named them my self conscious. Are you listening my beating heart gets louder. I order cream an chowder. Sips slow on estacy. Love an lust sleep next to me. I'm smothered in one while I'm blocked to the other. Exits are closed off I think where is my mother. I shudder remembering I'm alone.

15

Edifice erections surreal mistic heights Wayward excursions and catenary's bight Communal collusions of harmonies site Ethereal subsistence on exsertion's light Lingam and yoni are indefatigably tight Exponential overload was communities plight Semantic regalia is myriad temptation Finite being a mutual oblation Vicarious recalcitrance an obeisant sensation Conception's vastness like incalculable equation Ephemeral effulgence is indomitable pervasion Treacherous traverse and eternal occasion Succinct salience is symbiotic allegory Fecundity's verve a transcendent promontory Imperative ascension the conjunctive's divinatory Audacity's exigence and fertility's invocatory Erotica's erectile like mentality's trajectory Futurity's fatidic and inherent delusory **** it fell right over like categorical imperative's contradictory

0

Jun 27, 2015

Jun 27, 2015 at 12:32 PM UTC

toreinss-pinwinkel-iii

Resurrecting the Tower of Babel

Edifice erections surreal mistic heights Wayward excursions and catenary's bight Communal collusions of harmonies site Ethereal subsistence on exsertion's light Lingam and yoni are indefatigably tight Exponential overload was communities plight Semantic regalia is myriad temptation Finite being a mutual oblation Vicarious recalcitrance an obeisant sensation Conception's vastness like incalculable equation Ephemeral effulgence is indomitable pervasion Treacherous traverse and eternal occasion Succinct salience is symbiotic allegory Fecundity's verve a transcendent promontory Imperative ascension the conjunctive's divinatory Audacity's exigence and fertility's invocatory Erotica's erectile like mentality's trajectory Futurity's fatidic and inherent delusory **** it fell right over like categorical imperative's contradictory

19

To be born, is to emerge as a soul within a verse existing through eyes, ears, nose, and feelers. Persistent as the bindweed thriving in a blind spot and the rat-fleas riding around in the cellar. All life contains this soul, it’s in; the drumming and the drift, the way one shifts to their feet when battling the throes, and the persistence of plague, which encodes each cell with a rhythm and a role. To drown in a river is to **** that portion of the river’s soul, as there is no way; no lungs, no mouth to resuscitate waters that can no longer flow. The soul needs a body to show; the body needs a soul to breathe out to be re-born, is to re-exist in recurse of a soul already given, that is, unless, the soul has already been driven out. S.L. Weisend- 2014

0

May 16, 2014

May 16, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC

sl-weisend

Symbiotic Flux

To be born, is to emerge as a soul within a verse existing through eyes, ears, nose, and feelers. Persistent as the bindweed thriving in a blind spot and the rat-fleas riding around in the cellar. All life contains this soul, it’s in; the drumming and the drift, the way one shifts to their feet when battling the throes, and the persistence of plague, which encodes each cell with a rhythm and a role. To drown in a river is to **** that portion of the river’s soul, as there is no way; no lungs, no mouth to resuscitate waters that can no longer flow. The soul needs a body to show; the body needs a soul to breathe out to be re-born, is to re-exist in recurse of a soul already given, that is, unless, the soul has already been driven out. S.L. Weisend- 2014

17

Raking a hand through unruly hair I pull roughly at the cigarette between my fingers Restless. Feeling as though my skin is far too tight I want to fly Keep waking up with a hole in my chest Where my initiative used to be I was told to be patient All would reveal itself in time The nights get longer and the ache more pronounced You are getting closer Slithering along the outskirts of my perception My instincts all a flutter, aroused Anticipation coats my mouth like a cotton candy buzz The beating of your heart reaches me across vast distance As unable as I at forgetting Arms and legs start to relax Tired eyes and mind slipping shut I drift off once more, atune to the pounding rhythm Hopeful. Thrilled.

0

Apr 27, 2012

Apr 27, 2012 at 4:26 AM UTC

brook-ilges

Symbiotic

Raking a hand through unruly hair I pull roughly at the cigarette between my fingers Restless. Feeling as though my skin is far too tight I want to fly Keep waking up with a hole in my chest Where my initiative used to be I was told to be patient All would reveal itself in time The nights get longer and the ache more pronounced You are getting closer Slithering along the outskirts of my perception My instincts all a flutter, aroused Anticipation coats my mouth like a cotton candy buzz The beating of your heart reaches me across vast distance As unable as I at forgetting Arms and legs start to relax Tired eyes and mind slipping shut I drift off once more, atune to the pounding rhythm Hopeful. Thrilled.

21

Exclusively molded in the divine image or egos big enough to declare it so A dangerous theory a disastrous belief system Gardeners of Eden turned stewards of entropy Superiority conquest of nature symbiotic balance forsaken Jealous hoarders of spirituality, sentience, self-awareness, intelligence The irrational glorification of reason despite a history of upheaval and war Bullies on the playground of manifest destiny exploitive excess worshiped as progress Arrogantly intoxicated on the dregs of Pandora's jar blindly stumbling toward self-destruction Welcome to the valley of the shadow of death Environmental Armageddon

0

May 23, 2013

May 23, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC

liam

Species Snobs

Exclusively molded in the divine image or egos big enough to declare it so A dangerous theory a disastrous belief system Gardeners of Eden turned stewards of entropy Superiority conquest of nature symbiotic balance forsaken Jealous hoarders of spirituality, sentience, self-awareness, intelligence The irrational glorification of reason despite a history of upheaval and war Bullies on the playground of manifest destiny exploitive excess worshiped as progress Arrogantly intoxicated on the dregs of Pandora's jar blindly stumbling toward self-destruction Welcome to the valley of the shadow of death Environmental Armageddon

18

*Squalor and affluence Live off each other’s benevolence Albeit unknowingly.*

0

Oct 16, 2014

Oct 16, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC

enigma-1

Odd Symbiotic Relationship......10w

*Squalor and affluence Live off each other’s benevolence Albeit unknowingly.*

3

I thought when I'd turn to moss, - when i had left myself to root. When I had laid me down at last, Than I'd not miss you endlessly. I did not know I'd find my soul dancing lithely in a flame. A spanish dancer I've become flickering my reds and blues. I jump from wick to match to ash and dance my saraband, contritely. Yet I thought that when I sighed so lastly undone would neatly fold away like origami boutonniere I'd be pressed between your book something that you'd heave to shelf and only gather dust and time. Regrets, it seems, don't like to die. So I'm left haunted by my haunting. And had I known before I wept that remonstration without intention was leaving all the notes unsung by leaving catching in my voice. I am singing in the mountains, madly about what does not skip in the fields and what does not drip from the sapling... For love does neither frolic gayly as much endures beyond repentance. and I am left, on pebble shores forever with my sharp withholdings Stubbornly I held onto them, Now they cut my like small diamonds. I am glass and they are listless wasted, mindless, pointless prattle. Remind me fresh our penalties for All the love we do not spend. Sahn 7/01/2014

0

Jul 1, 2014

Jul 1, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC

slovesdisco

Symbiotic

I thought when I'd turn to moss, - when i had left myself to root. When I had laid me down at last, Than I'd not miss you endlessly. I did not know I'd find my soul dancing lithely in a flame. A spanish dancer I've become flickering my reds and blues. I jump from wick to match to ash and dance my saraband, contritely. Yet I thought that when I sighed so lastly undone would neatly fold away like origami boutonniere I'd be pressed between your book something that you'd heave to shelf and only gather dust and time. Regrets, it seems, don't like to die. So I'm left haunted by my haunting. And had I known before I wept that remonstration without intention was leaving all the notes unsung by leaving catching in my voice. I am singing in the mountains, madly about what does not skip in the fields and what does not drip from the sapling... For love does neither frolic gayly as much endures beyond repentance. and I am left, on pebble shores forever with my sharp withholdings Stubbornly I held onto them, Now they cut my like small diamonds. I am glass and they are listless wasted, mindless, pointless prattle. Remind me fresh our penalties for All the love we do not spend. Sahn 7/01/2014

38

Between the brothers, sad tale, Sibling rivalry did not fail, Their fractured world of damaged hearts, Only death could tear them apart, Quite symbiotic and sick, Both obsessed with their own blip, Yes, it was a sad brotherly tale, Their sibling rivalry never failed......

0

Jan 21, 2017

Jan 21, 2017 at 10:45 PM UTC

julie-grenness

BETWEEN THE BROTHERS!

Between the brothers, sad tale, Sibling rivalry did not fail, Their fractured world of damaged hearts, Only death could tear them apart, Quite symbiotic and sick, Both obsessed with their own blip, Yes, it was a sad brotherly tale, Their sibling rivalry never failed......

8