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Terry Collett Sep 2014
We were allowed out
of the minibus
for an hour
to explore the view
and have some refreshments
or explore where we will

don’t get lost
said the driver and guide

does he think
we're complete idiots?
Dalya said

I’ve been to Glasgow
and never got lost
and I had my brother
with me at the time
and he couldn’t find
his way to his backside
without someone
guiding his hands

let's have a look round Neustadt
I said

she walked beside me
leaving the mini bus behind
she was wearing
a red patterned top
and her blue jeans
that clung to her thighs
like a drowning sailor

not much to look at
she said
I’ve seen more to see
inside my brother’s ear

are you always this happy?
I asked

what do you mean
I am happy
just saying
what I thought

we came to a bridge
and a river
and stood there
looking at the boats
and water

O you should have seen
the Yank girl last night
O what a sight it was
she getting ready for bed
in the cramped tent
and I was laying there
already in my night clothes
trying not to look
and she was wearing
these tight *******  
that looked like
some kind
of torture contraption
red they were
with words on

what did the words say?
I asked

I don't know
it was in German
could have said
way in for all I know

anyway why would you
be interested
in what it says
on a girl's *******?

might be instructions
to a treasure trove

Dalya didn't smile
but took out a cigarette
and lit up

I lit up a smoke too
and watched boats
on the water

she's not your type
Dalya said

what's my type?

you're out of her league
she'd not let you
smell her perfume
let alone get inside
her ***** underwear

I like you
I'm not interested in
other girls
I said

just a well
she'd not be for you
she inhaled deeply
and stared ahead
at the water

anyway
when you are with me
in my tent
and she's out
can you not make
so much noise
I’m sure the Polish woman
suspects

what makes you
think that?

her look
the way she studies me
when we're together
that kind of
what a naughty girl
you are gaze

I smiled

no laughing matter
just because
her daughter's nun like
doesn't mean
I have to be

we walked on
across the bridge
some fine buildings
to our left

Dalya certainly wasn’t
nun like
the other night
I thought
remembering her
opened up
like a conquered city
waiting for the pillaging
and ***
her hands gripped tight
around my neck

the warmth
the perfume
the soft skin
she like some
harbour pilot
guiding me in.
A BOY AND GIRL IN NEUSTADT IN 1974.
Jabin Jun 2018
The children, they don't need us.
In fact, they repeat us.
And what ungodly error.
Collecting our wounds en masse,
spreading our crimes so fast-
continuous looping terror.

We spit upon the face of the devil
and bring ourselves right to his level,
pray for consuming ignition.
With triteness we scheme for money,
and laugh at things unfunny
to dodge the hard decision.

**** me, my God I'm not ready.
This burden feels so heavy.
But will it save all creation?
My child, I love so dearly.
I see what love is so clearly,
and gained such appreciation.

Remorseful I am for pain I've caused.
With arrogance, I've rarely paused
to accept the pain of my brother.
And in my soul harbored hatred
and never known what is sacred,
Blamed this disease on father and mother.

What shall we do now to gain redemption?
Life's too vast for our comprehension.
Apes that we are, we continue to wrestle.
*******, we **** those who're different.
Though we fall from a common descendant.
I pray to our God, re-brandish the pestle.  

Live for each other, I'll tell her.
Into *******, I'll never sell her.
But unto the enemy, I'll submit.
And those who subscribe discrimination,
and from torture derive their elation.
I tell you the truth, you're all full of it.
Isn’t interesting how much fear we hide even from ourselves? I think that if we’re mentally healthy people, this world and living in it is a terrifying experience. The thought of our inevitable death alone is enough to humble anyone, if they let it. Some people are stronger, and some are weaker. Some pretend to be strong, so they don’t appear weak. That is a dangerous path. When you start deriving your self identity from the thoughts of others, you become as weak as a person can be. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to be angry. We have to accept these realities, and if we do, I think we can begin to accept each other more thoroughly. We just have to realize that we all have control over our own lives and our own selves. Look deep into your being and seek out the truth. Let it guide you, because lies are stumbling blocks no matter how you slice it. The sooner we become more comfortable with the truth and the telling of it, the sooner we can actually deal with our problems in a healthy way. I think a lot of violence, depression, anger, etc. could be avoided if we made honesty more of a priority in our lives. And the truth is, we will fail in this quest from time to time, but it's one of those things that gets easier the more you do it. And you will feel much better about yourself if, when you realize you are wrong in a particular moment, you are able to openly admit your error out loud. It doesn't feel good in the moment to be sure, but pulling those weeds up as soon as they sprout will always help ensure a more healthy garden. There is an idea that everyone lies, and that might even be true, but by repeating that mantra throughout the generations, all we do is justify our own dishonesty, because hey, everybody's doing it. Do not be afraid. You might lose friends or even family over honesty, but sacrifice is a fact of life. And who's to say that your influence won't open their own eyes, leading you both down a path to a better relationship in the end?
When I opened my eyes this morning
I cursed at God for waking me up
It ***** living in this world
when you're an absolute **** up
Before I go to sleep at night
I pray to God to take me home
or at least put me in a coma
that way people could leave me alone
Everyday that I live is a day that I hate
I'm counting down the days until I die
and I honestly cannot wait
Not only will people be happier
because I won't be around to make their lives hell
I won't be suffering with this depression
that I don't handle very well
Everyday is torture
no one understands
that the heart that keeps me alive
is like a ball of glass
One drop and it's shattered
into pieces I can't put back together
Even if I tried to fix it
I'll be stuck fixing it forever
Life is no adrenaline rush for me
it's like eating a bad egg and throwing up
It ***** living in a world
where everyone considers you a **** up
WRITTEN BY: Mandie Michelle Sanders
WRITTEN ON: November. 2, 2011 Wednesday 8:16 A.M.
Joseph Childress Sep 2010
(Reader Beware)

I just happen to be
Evil
Ever since I could remember
I favored
Torture
Over
******
It brings a sense of overkill
And overtime
It becomes much worse
Than death
Trust I
Studied ****** pages
Out the Book of Death
So you know which craft
I've practiced
For ages
Graduately
Mastered Massacre
Professed uncontested chaos
Havoc bestowed upon
My victims
Shrieks pierce ears
Like nails against
Chalk boards

My knife scraps along
Your metal chains
Why worry I won't stab
I just want your eyes
You don't
Need to see
The method to my madness
For if you ever escape
You can't tell a thing
You'll only see
The last image
Me
My methods mimmick Hell
As I cause pain
Forever
I wont let you die
Blood drips like tears
As you cry
Now,
Settle down,
You'll get use to it
Jonah Lavigne Dec 2013
They call me crazy
Because I hate life
Maybe they are the crazy ones
Maybe life is a torture
Maybe death is the freedom
The reward for going through
The pain
The heart break
They fear hell
I can't wait to see it
Let's burn
**** it
I want death
Come get me
I dare you
I want to meet satan
Call him a ***** to his face
Laugh when he punishes me
So life or death?
Heaven or hell?
A Writer
A writer is the bestowed one so he is strange
Creativity takes him to the shadows of loneliness
It is this blessing which takes him out of range
Sheer torture and pain are out of just sheer bless

In the valleys of wilderness he aspires for wonder
Love and beauty are shades to make understand
In him very many blades crop up to cut and asunder
His all frequencies are commanded by many bands

Pain is his life torture is his domain to increase pain
But being selected one he has to go through all rut
Showers of poisonous at times , at times mercy rain
Open up very many avenues, vistas and many to shut

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2017 Golden Glow
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
probably the best day in my life...
it's too hot to eat...
i'm getting leaner...
must have lost about 3kg...
    just one Cornish yoghurt with
some strawberry under-filling "jam"...

currently drinking whiskey
listening to a Templar chant -
  veni sancte spiritus...
i'll probably move onto some Byzantine chants
and then some Muslim songs...
whatever...

but what i really want to do is move
onto R.E.M.'s automatic for the people...
finishing a reply to: night-swimming...

no... nothing about skinny-dipping
with the full voyeurism of the moon...
snow... ice... salt and darkness... and the biting
cold...

this heat is intolerable...
i spent the day glues to the wooden floor...
i was switching positions...
to one side... to another side...
one leg on the bed...
lying on the floor...
one leg one arm on the bed...
no good...

              it became so hot that whenever i lifted
my torso up...
i lay down: FARTING with my back...
literally... i haven't eaten anything in
about 3 days... well... "eaten":
i find technical grounds to suggest:
you eat something when you get to
**** some of the excesses out...
ergo?
        i've eaten the bare minimum...
ergo: i haven't **** anything out...

the zenith of summer is intolerable for me...
i hate summer...
   even if this years summer brings with it
no snails... or flies...
just ants... spiders... and rats...
i do hope the rat problem i'm having
in my kitchen will be resolved by the heat
rather than rat poison or the "guillotine"...

i was lying on the floor dehydrated and feeling
sort of serene...
i think i could die from hunger and dehydration...
then again: what's a calorie intake
from merely alcohol?
         it probably does fuzzy "things" to the brain...
no wonder i'm listening to Templar chants...

me at my worst...
         strange... the Templars were the most violent
of the crusader camps...
yet... they sang the most...
it's not like the Knight Hospitaller...
hell... match them up: the Templars with the Teutonic
knights...

i've come across these two men
in my nearest past...
distraught creatures...
     "rats" willing to bite their tails off...
i too was in their confinement
of de profundis...
                  no one but me came to my aid...
scuttling... lost... blind... torn...
i'm sort of happy i could have helped them...
the good one can give unto humanity
is so cheap yet so expensive...

   perhaps it has been my purpose to not
attain wealth...
     then again: i'm already wealthy...
the Romford public library doesn't own
a single book that i possess in my private library...
it did, though, put me on course
of acquiring Thomas Mann's Dr. Faustus...
but that's about it!
   the rest is junk! i live in a city where the public
library is a joke, compared to my private collection...

this reality is: truly... PUNISHING...
Ilford had a better selection...
i gained some recognition writing my A-level essay
on the counter-Reformation in high-school
based on the research i did:
from the books i found in the Ilford library...
i just heard that the next class of pupils
were introduced to my work...
but the current reality? PUNISHING...
                
i had to resort to *** with prostitutes...
i do remember the last one i pleased...
           no... it's not working... BITE IT...
she die... it wasn't working... i had to return
the favour... slobber in oyster juices...
probe with my nose...
                insert my index and middle...
as imitation...
                         personally? i find giving a woman
oral *** rather therapeutic...
        play me some monk songs while you're
at it and i'd reached the godhead...

one of the traits of the myth of Gomorrah...
******-eaters...
   i'm one of them... short tempered:
***** beyond repair...
                        i could drown in a bottle
of whiskey and about a dozen *****
properly dished: hygienic...
just frenzied with taboos of...
               flowers... pink and slightly purple
tinged bouquets of floral flesh...

flowers... endless bouquets of floral flesh...
maybe that's why i write so:
i abhor talking during ***...
i tend to insinuate my partners to refrain
from talking during the act also...
if they can't: i don't restrain them...
but i contain myself to the maximum
of an onomatopoeia... there's no "daddy"...
there's no "*****"...
        i'm of the persuasion:
you ever **** me like animals **** each other...
or there's no ******* conversation
outside of *******... the end...

and this is what makes...
songs akin to the Templar chant: veni sancte spiritus
so... so... DOUBLY ******!
it's a hidden eroticism...
because it disguises what could otherwise
be a misunderstood ****-eroticism!
it's not! sure... women sing...
but when men sing to other men about
something that's deified: by each individual man
and therefore unrelateable...
by "casual" constraints leading toward a belonging:
a camaraderie...

that's different...
             no wonder the Teutonic knights had
a brothel in their citadel...
sometimes... you want an excuse... any excuse...
to bypass the narrative of Eve
and return to the Hells and Heavens of Lilith's
company...

damaged? no... hardly... i'm just unlike any
of the Jihadi G.I. Joes and Johns of the current era...
i actually want fame postmortem...
and i actually want a harem in "heaven"...
i'm testing the waters... not by killing people on
the whim / promise...
   you begin with ******* prostitutes...
                 you end by ******* prostitutes...
stealing kisses... performing oral ***...
this is me CRUSADE against whatever the JIHAD
has made available...
thank **** i made my way towards Turkey...
now i'm planning advances towards Iran...

- i still think one of the best albums ever recorded
has been, so far, R,E.M.'s automatic for the people...
just like i remember courting her hands
with firm grips while eating her out...
peeping with a pseudo-voyeurism into
her eyes...                   sure: my *** is not gay-pride
***... it's what was made available:
certainly nothing sadomasochistic... organic...
law-breaking... all the more real:
the reality being:
it's illegal to own a brothel... in England...
it's not illegal to frequent one...
BASE...

the SIDEWINDER sleeps tonight...
            well... i'm not sleeping: right about now...
i said i would and i did...
cycling shirtless... t-shirt-less...
furry brother on the run from the sun...
what an amazing feeling...
just like R.E.M sang about night-swimming...
hmm... NIGHT-CYCLING...
   in my world no is trying to fall asleep
or thereby trying to wake up...

there's just this grey glue of people
in between of being in between...
and that's almost contained within the word:
hubris... hell... even better... a compound
of words: a hubris-hiatus...

             i like that... "we" should invent a HH
dep. to make sure the HR dep. are doing their job...
maybe i'm just dehydrated...
haven't ingested enough calories...
or maybe... i'm seeing clearly while other people
are still forever: fuzzy...

ready and to burry your father and your mother...
what did you think when you lost another...

not my words.. worries wiped and dusted...

NIGHT-CYCLINNG...  SHIRTLESS...
barbarian within all that's could be
compensated with a "whole"...
hours prior?
dealing with the heat...
the bed could be considered useful...
if it wasn't for the excesses...
i prefer the floor...
i'd like to think that knocking on a pine
tree would spontaneously
conjure up an idea for a door...

then again... could a forest conjure up
a house... and a desert too?
                hmm... pyramids...
necropolis axiom...
               who dies, apparently: lives on?
no?
                     then i best be dead...
                 thinking is an involuntary act...
sort of automatic sort of by no persuasion
sort of forced without any originality...
hello: oranges and no future sunrises!
hello: how's you: ******* too?!

how's that?!
         me? i'm sort of chirping along with
angels like a pigeon ought...
because: pigeons ought: chirp and chat
with angels...
              and i want to breathe death
into the minds of gods... telling them...
you ought to be subordinate to what's
the required burden... that we ALL... SHARE...
THIS... *******... BURDEN!
savvy?!          no! there's no in-between
we either share this burden:
or we don't! if we don't? well then...
the gates are open... we annihilate yourselves..
we work with each other?
    there's a second chance we might
breathe... or swim... or take a liking to
bicycle...

            then again:
i'm not going to care that much...
i just want a harem...
             i find women boring...
if they're not multiplied...
i have a short attention span...
and a long attention span...
i'm just too envious of men prior to me...
i don't want to be distraught with
an envy of Solomon...
    
and i kept drinking: because i felt and felt some more
intellectually isolated....
i couldn't conceive a retention of intelligence
beside the realm of what could be obtained:
or rather... disregarded...
i could never become "Cosmopolitan" enough...
"gay" enough... "proud" enough...

these days a litre of whiskey is not enough
for people of my "incompetence"...
it's enough, though: to lean either left
or lean right... or... neither...
                         goof: my indifference is screaming...
a silent scream before the altar of Moloch...
times are changing:
nothing really changes...
           the perpetual expansion
of space...
poetry > mythology > history > journalism < poetry...

death's not really apparent until...
what's not supposed to be dead...
is actually dead... is... dead...
          by curiosity concerning the colour purple...
all out mortal concerns
confines to the allocation of
collecting pillows... to replicate clouds!

my friend died... a grandfather to no one
beside me... but also my cycling buddy...
yet all these people became involved in
guilt tripping... some daughter... some son...
i lost a... friend!
i didn't lose a grandfather! primo... i lost a friend!

i sooner bled from my head
than i cried with my eyes!
i associate the name JOSEPH with: LEAVING...
i smear my tears like women smear
their fake attraction chemicals: apart...

to the burdens of death and to the burdens of life:
death to the living... and life to the dead...
at least some are unreliably
unaware that they are there, yet.

one comment after another:
but isn't that Ii? there's no N... in that... it's iota-iota... not lambda amber... well... great... for shallow beginnings... best try scribbling some graffiti...it could make my commute more memorable... don't... seriously... i was just traumatised by catching a rat in my kitchen... i was keeping a female main **** in between my feet... even she ****** off from the dying sounds... death by snorkeling on a bleeding snout? bleeding from biting the tail off?! if a rat's dying in a way that makes the cat *******... and you're like... should i open the door and stab it to death?! yeah... great Cyrillic sort of ******* br'uh..

you ever listen to a rat die?
ever listen to a rat die in such a way
that your cat runs: the **** away?!
my father compares me to a rat...
he doesn't compare me to
a fox or a vampire: wish wish...
i'm just a rat...
              
   i just wept... listening to a death
of a rat...
i wanted to open the cupboard
and stab the baited ******
with a guillotine applause...
         but then i thought:
i suffer... you suffer too..
         hell... if the cats are not going to touch
you... i'm not coming closer with a knife
either...
death the great deceiver...
   with life the greater culprit... of making:
sacrifices...
more that's to be lived than
is to be expected to die...

           did "god" say as much?
what's the point: if... a limited number of potentials
are not exposed to the glory of my "thinking"...
i expect more to have ever been alive
than for those to have been accounted
as the arithmetic of by death's: queue...

remarkable... my father keeps calling me a rat...
remarkable... sure... i drink...
you ever listen on a rat dying
from a rat-trap? then again: i don't know...
i started to insinuate Morse code
by scratching a knife
against the cupboard...
imitating / creating circles...
that ******* squeaking...
                       the retaliating motivation
to pursue life!
       i took my Maine **** into my lapse...
to wait for her to pounce...
even she was distraught...
she ****** off.. even she was like...
sure... you open the cupboard door...
aim the knife...
or... you get a good night's sleep
and let the rat die on its own...

listening to a rat die from some minor injury...
i'm thinking... of men dying beach-strapped
to their injuries come D-Day
concerning Normandy...
     i like to have the luxury of being
this forgetful further...
getting sentimental about listening
to rats dying in traps...
in the middle of the night...
while i was no Newton and i'd prefer a pear...
but... a cat... couldn't listen to the torture...
a cat... a cat couldn't listen to a death of rat from
a trap...
i lodged her between my legs in order
to pounce...
she ****** off...
    she couldn't stomach it...

you ever listen to a rat dying in the middle
of the night?
i thought about the death of my grandfather...
i should **** mosquitos more often...
i should **** spiders more often...

but rats?! oh... **** me...
the way they struggle coming to the fruition
of their expected life...
scuttling... scribbling... scratching: nibbling...
the squeaks...
CATS *******...
seriously... a rat's dying: the cats *******!
me too... i ******* and drink to excess...
why if your father calls you a rat...
and then... hey presto! you catch a rat!
and you're killing it...
well... tear... umbrella... raindrop...
one fine autumn day...
                   thank you dad:
but i won't be mourning:
like you weren't mourning for your dad...

maybe... what's that? maybe i wish i had a
a wife... then again... maybe not...
i just listened to a rat die... scratching like
mad...  
                 sure... the day was great...
being glued to the wooden floor over-sweating...
until... scuttling and nibbling...
a rat caught in a rat trap... probably dying...
the ******* cat was traumatised!
cat! not predator?!
                                or maybe it was the fact
that i was weeping and wanting an apology
to come through...

i haven't eaten much in the past 3 days...
i need to sleep...
i actually need to fall asleep in my bed
and wake up in it... rather than
on the cold floor with not pyjamas...
i abhor summers...
              these superficial insomniac events
of non-event.
Michael Acosta May 2010
I feel her absence like pain
pain of a tooth torn roughly out
the dull then piercing ache
as if some piece or part of me
has been roughly pulled away
I long to slumber, deeply sleep
in my dreams she comes to me
dreams more pure than I've a right to
It hurts so much to be awake
other people in my life
so much like phantoms passing by
it's only her I want to see
to her alone I wish to speak
she's gone away somewhere
I'm left wondering what I've done
I sweetly torture myself with her
many pictures, and a video looped
the world keeps reminding me of her
I see the curve of her chin in someone
the color of her eyes, the shape of her face
the world won't let me forget
I poke and **** at the pain
like salt or sand deep in a wound
and so I wonder when or if
she'll come back my way
©2009-2010 Michael Acosta
I'm a pacer.
It gets me places.
It gets me out of my head.

I walk
I turn
I walk some more,
And I calm down from what was said.

Ze said it's self soothing.
I say it's just anxiety.

I say it's torture because I have to choose,
Do I let my feet ache,
Or my head.
LovelyBones Dec 2014
Feeling the tip pushing into soft flesh,
Still clean and unbroken, perfectly fresh.
Sharp and gentle but only at first.
Torture and bloodshed quench only this thirst.
Dancing so lightly, sends shivers throughout.
Mind in a storm, darkness tunnels about.
Clouds form overhead and the rain starts to pour.
Thick, crimson droplets collect on the floor.
Winds then pick up and all things are destroyed.
Left bits and pieces you try to avoid.
No time to recover, the ground crumbles below.
And out of the depths, comes a shadow.
Strikes with the most abhorrent of claws,
dismembering victims with bone-crunching jaws.
Splattering blood, insides and more,
Leaving stains darker, more now than before.
The clouds dissipate, a light ray shines through.
Making the carnage glow, a brilliant red hue.
Echos of cries and screams fade away.
Piles of dead bodies, left on display.
Tyler Zuniga Jul 2014
Drip drip the rain goes. 
Cold bitterness when the wind blows.
The weather turns my heart.
It's broken, slowly falling apart.
Lost in my own conscious mind.
Forever looking for something I can't find.
All of our memories are gone. 
Going through life with this mask I put on. 
Wanting something I shouldn't have.
Debating on whether I should have.
Leave it all here on this page. 
Writing my thoughts to calm my rage.
I'm going insane, please help me.
Love is something that we used to be.
Hating myself at times for my sins.
Crying inside when the episode begins. 
I cannot love another.
Standing alone, no one to call I love her.
Digging my grave in the dark by myself. 
No doubt that I'm stranded I don't need your help.
I'll write till my death and the pain fades away.
Choking my soul I have nothing to say.
Hearing your voice is torture to my ears. 
Our greatest debt is that we don't know out own fears.
Love is gone and drowning is nice.
They tell me to smile but I don't need advice.
Nathan Squiers Dec 2013
Your death’s still fresh!
Like a newborn,
Everyday
Emerging into my mind!
Blossoming!
Forever here to stay!

Recollections of your ******—
Oh! What a blessed time!—
Keep me warm at night
As I relive that treasured crime!

Memories of that moment;
Of your long awaited demise
Always are a part of me,
And replay in my eyes.

I remember how you cried.
I remember all your screams.
I remember when you died.
I relive it in my dreams.

You twisted ******* *******
I hope you rot in Hell.
And when I die and descend
I’ll torture you as well!

I am what you made of me.
You were the birth of your own death.
And the monster that I’ve become
Was born of your last breath.
This is one of the songs I wrote to accompany "Curtain Call: A Death Metal Novel" (now available on Amazon). This was the first novel I'd written that incorporated any sort of poetry/poetic attempts, and though the narrative (nearly 80,000-words) took only five weeks to write, the songs (each less than a page in length and totaling to about 25 different "tracks") took a torturous three weeks.

I gained a whole new degree of respect for song writers with this project.
jeffrey robin Aug 2015
.


She

( yeah

.. she does )



She loves

::
<>

In the morning

( once there were milkmen who delivered milk

To your door )

She loves



Inundated by visions of torture

And police shooting

Children in what once were called

OUR neighborhoods

She loves

~~

She walks past the corner

Where the young girls

Show off their scarred wrists

And tell tales of avenging ex - boyfriends

By castrating them !

She loves




What does she love ?


"""

Well

Let's just say she loves the sense of being

A human being

let us say she knows her purpose

//

Let us say she just loves

For love's sake

::;:

If you knew her

Would you merely think

HOW BORING !

//

Love

Love is the most natural thing

She loves

//

Yes

It is a simple thing to do
Years of regrets
Drowning me in my sleep
Preventing me from moving
I'm missing something that'll never be rightfully mine.
Years of self torture
Self pity
Now I awake with carvings of my holy death set me free
Set me free for all the hours it'll take to rid this lost
Rid me of my desires
I find my lost in others but it's never the same
Touches
Tears
Breath
Words
Stubbornness
Compassion
Jolly faces happy to see me at ease from labor
All the days and nights blink at me in my face
She's not here
She won't be here
I find her often but she's not mine
I worry her no more  
I'm consumed by emptiness  
Rid me of the memories of her
Set me a new life so I can make it better next time around

By: Leory Santana Dawn
I'm tired of the emptiness I can feel myself getting closer and closer to finding my own solution
Patrick McCombs Jun 2011
My body is running on fumes
My eyes feel heavy
Everything is sore but
But my mind still races
Racing on in circles
I contemplate all the problems that lay before me
I twist and turn and manipulate them
I consider every angle
But yet i end up with the same answer that i started with
Absolutely Nothing
I start to wonder about everything
Inflicting every wound of self doubt and self loathing i can think of.
I lie in this torture devise i call a bed while my mind turns on it self
I can not wait the sweet release of sleep
So that i can escape my army of ghosts
Dreams Sweet Dreams
Schanzé Sep 2014
Put your hand on my thigh,
trail patterns on the surface.
Look me in the eyes,
make every second worth it.

Trail kisses up my neck,
& across my jawline.
Don't stop, not ever,
it seems as though we're frozen in time.

Put your hands on my waist,
the time is long gone for an innocent embrace.
Breathe me in,
become intoxicated at my scent,
graze your teeth against my throat,
it is with your lips that you tempt.

Run your hands down my back,
stop at my hips - pull me close.
Rub your nose against mine,
those lips,
your poison -
give me another dose.

After years of blissful torture,
press
your lips against mine.
Slow at first
and then
like we're running out of time.
Draw me even closer,
steal the air from my lungs -
kiss me harder,
bite my tongue.

Drive me crazy, blow my mind..
When we release, I know..
Its only to prepare for next time.
1442
Megan Hoagland May 2015
Love is sweet, love is kind.
Love is torture, love is blind
This unfinished painting of a drawn out summer
still finely coated in a sheet of dust.
We paint our days with history
still floating on top of our mysteries.

Together or apart I'm falling over
to understand the time we've had.
With knowing and understanding apart
I write, I know not where to start.
So let the letters fall their own way.
I'll live to note another day.

The wall in my mind won't torture me
but if you won't listen I will not be.
Noandy Apr 2015
When the days get darker,
let them dim our thoughts

With contemplation of loathe,
dancing macabre

Skeletons pour down wax and slowly cackle
at the sight of human’s craving,
their salvation
Towards untangled
self-torture-bound heartache.

Just like the dripping pain in the stomach that would
Gradually rip and bleed forever more.
Or the stinging needles in the eyes
To prevent us from believing.

We are composed of guilt and shame
Melted by the gluttonous fire of our own
That we ignored,
pretending as if it was crumbs
From our demented lunch as we
Step on our pride,
refusing to acknowledge
Our satisfaction and sweat reflected there.

If life is a candle still, crowned with black flare
Inject me with the stranded white wax
So I could form myself back to my righteous shape.

And I would then burn bright
A swaying blaze of agony.
john p green Nov 2015
The deluge harbors fear in once intrepid sailors
Even flax sails cry out mercy from the mighty gale
A breach in each soul sceams out that reminder
Of jagged rocks defending the isle soon to lacerate their hull
Those cries meant naught as tears in canvas offer only impending doom
Some stand steadfast gripping that false belief of hope
Others kiss their own fate as a quick grip and jump
Forever washes all mental torture far far away
ZACK GRAM Oct 2021
Zackamundo
Rattah Tattah
Battah Bag had
Baghdad
Diss?
Quick Lynch...

1 Trillion Ton
50 Million Trillion
Cash

Nuclear Tip Missile
Tank so Big Run-over ya crib

Take the guns? NAH!
GIVE US GUNS YAHH!!

corners sweepers
Government watching
Clock mocking
Hoes in line one a time..
Drop Em...

Cooper, Rupert, Doobie, Super, durp, Dean, Lean, Quavo, D, T, L, Wayne, Trigg, G Floyd, Stem, B.A., Cam, B, G, C, Mii, Cashish, Rah, Rob, Raheem, Jake, Rasheem, Black, Unc, Baby, Gettah, Guttah, Z, Pete, Reese, Raymond, Reggie, Will...

Ounce pound brick
Brick house pound
Cars ounce trash
Death Dismay
Hope, Prayer
Love an Trust
Faith in God
**** 1 God
Wrote a script
Paint a picture
A picture of...
Fortune, Fame, wealth and royalties
Pure loyalty
King

Torture
Rip off your nails...
Rip off your ears...
Rip out your teeth an tongue...
Cut off fingers toes 1by1...
Stomp your leg and arm bones,
Stab your ****...
Pour bleach on you with gas...
Choke you in an out of consciousness
Repeat...
You're future is tortured,
Mark My Words,
Don't Quote me ***...
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
Nameless Oct 2015
An endless game of Hide n' Seek.
Don't you see,
My hiding place !?
It's not hard to find.
So, Why do you not hasten to me.
YOU MUST BE HIDDEN TOO!

Come with me,
For we must stick together.
As we all fear the cold, smothering belly of loneliness.
We shall confide in each other's pursuit for a common love.

When will this game end?
Before long...
For we now dread each other's company,
And long to be found.

The 'Game' turns into emotional torture.
We lost track of the ever burning sun.
Our memories become fabric
And
Our words cut out the shapes we need to keep warm.
Yet, The bitter cold is so ever tempting.

As our bodies together, like a great fire...
I realize-----
Only TWO were playing this 'Game'.
Autumn Nov 2017
what dreams may come are up to you,
your actions will predict the happiness.
what nightmares you create are already upon you,
and the torture you experience,  
you will have inflicted willingly and consciously to yourself.
you create yourself
and
you destroy yourself
chose wisely
xoxo
Bitter is the taste of regret.
I know, regret is tattooed on my heart.
Like a bayonet every time I catch a thought of you.
My breath catches, my face freezes, my mind decays
back to our days, when,
I held a flaming torch, you held a match!
I look back, you probably don't remember the girl that made you
her world.
Felt possessed just at knowing you.
Hated the fact that she was too much of a coward to let you know,
that friendship was not enough.
You were put in a box, lid on tight, but you crawl to me
every night.

I dread looking at what you are now,
I bet your silhouette is the same, but your contents have changed.
Am I in a box of your regrets?
It's ok I know the answer.
I just torture myself as it's better to feel pain than nothing at all.
Is she as funny as me?
Is she as happy as I once was?
I bet you have kids. I don't. I won't.
I'd like to reset my regret, but life won't let me.
Bitter is the taste, bitterness grinds at my epithet.
I lay my head down in dread knowing that I fled.
A wretch full of regret.
But, before you open my box of regrets tonight, remember,
*Always kiss me goodnight.
© JLB
09/10/2014
17:17 BST
Amber Kate Lewis Mar 2014
Not to be thin is a sin,
To be the image of skin and bone is to win.
The fat attached to your thighs like a parasite is taking a step back...
To a darkness and torture deemed not worth living,
In the words of my friend Ana.

I must listen.
ohNoe Jul 2014
i was with the one today
  and i had to hear her say
    I love You
      to a man who wasn't me,
        who gets to be
          the only ever being i've ever wanted to be,
            will ever want to be

my heart ceased to be,
  my hurt increased with each un-beat
PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN PAIN
the light dead within my eyes,
  why won't this body just ******* die
PAAAAAAAIIIIIIINNNNNNN
broken never runs out of bleeding,
it's agonized creams never receding.
sometimes HAPPY turns into torture...

but so much was wonderful,
  i heard her voice say other things,
i felt the touch of her beautiful
  in how she does everything,
i watched her move
i saw her blue eyes be blue
i got to see her haircut in person
i got to be invited to lunch
i got to watch some World Cup
  and chat like two great friends
which we always wer  even when we were lovers

there was a huge hug,
  at least to me,
and then a quick kiss
  (on the lips, oh god, those lips, they are the rainbow gentle warm rainstorm which can suddenly press    
      into my soul with the urgency and primal energy of the tsunami tide flinging me unharmed miles
         inland onto paradise island which i dream of every time i'm asleep or awake),
and then a comfortable smiling pleasant farewell
  which let me remember happiness tell its tale.

and i got to remember
  every moment with her
grocery shopping
(ecstatic with joy)
floor mopping
  (giddy boy with xmas toy)
walking around the lake
  with all the babble you could take
talking in the jacuzzi
  as we laughed with Z-O-E
hiking biking camping bi-plane flying
  smiling inside with heart soul flying

i got to remember
  passion
  moans
  squeezes
  I Love You's
  I Need You's

and even though awake
  i dreamt of how i dream
    of our blue eyes being bluer
      because of each other

then
  i get to return to my broken,
    beg the universe for another chance for US
  and count the seconds
    until our next meeting as friends

all i'll ever want
  is to be what She wants
to be the everything She needs
to be what beats Her heart
  as it flutters it as well
to be the amazing feeding Her soul
  to be The One making Her whole

and if She would say okay
  to make Love with Her everyday
kiss squeeze
  lick rub stroke
**** Her as hard as I can
  (except for when she wants some gentle
whenever she wants to ***

and did i mention
  the blue eyes of Shannon
which i need to stare into
until mine become as blue....
Kara MacLean Nov 2010
A shocking hole to the heart
A scar that can temporarily re-open
Especially after hearing your voice
Take your pain out on me
Lash me until I’m dust on the sidewalk
Crumbling where I stand in-between the parking lines
The phone shaking out of my hands
Now taken into the force of gravity
Its time to make one last swing
I’ve surrendered, its over, I’m done.
Beat me until I’m unnoticed
Back to the ground where I came from
Torture my being with your words
By: Kara MacLean
Julie Butler Feb 2015
I'm feeling nostalgic
about a woman in my sleep

did she call yet ?

I think I'll feel it when she speaks

that i'm f a l l i n g
but I don't come with wings . . .

so it's a l m o s t

time to quit this dream
where you're taller
you're looking right at me
I feel small
and
you weakening my knees
it's called log z's
it's like being asleep;
but I don't want you in my dreams no more
I want you where I breathe

it's like fall
how
the colors hit the trees
and how the wind keeps blowing
disbelief
underneath my feet

& how you think you make me laugh
when you really torture me

am I crazy
for wanting what I see ?

if this is crazy
well then
I don't really know what to believe
Love has no language, every language is language of love
Kine-sics communicate more beautifully in real situations
Eyes with their movements communicate open just now
Love always remains in front while beauty behind cannons

Farhad being true lover of Shirin ,an ordinary stone cutter
Embraced his love and could opt to dig a forty mile canal
Became extraordinary in his love pursuit being on love altar
Keeping in mind his rationale never ever lost his morale

Love is a constant and continuous torture with chains of gold
It makes a beggar a king with all luxuries and real pleasure
Beauty demands and tests a lover to come up to occasion be bold
Beauty is a worldly treasure of a beloved and lover is soothsayer

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
The Dedpoet May 2016
Perhaps with cleft eyes
He grasped the form of woman;
    To what region of being
Did He want to tempt the Saints?
And men tripping over themselves
Until the sky plunges beyond her skyline
Chasing horizons like waken dreams
      Conjuring the vanishing moment
He entwined himself in the essense
Of Her,
Of She,
Of Woman!
(I write knowing I too am fool
For the taste of her wine)
Welcome to the vineyard of slaughtered vine,
Trampled grapes,
Vessels of drunken madness!

     Imagery of her transparency,
     The energetic torture of her touch,
     The burning flame with lustrous embers,
Soft harmony of her fingers
As she flows onto my body
Like some supreme sculptor,
Blossom me with your masterful touch,
Woman, created by God
To accept a blood stained lover!
Lost man to lost girl
In tunnels of obsidian,
The bonsage of our love,
Woman, ancient name of desire,
Abstracted spectre of your body
Sets men to explode like a sun!

Such a wondrously created being
Set before the eyes of barbaric confusion.
Rj Aug 2014
I used to like fishing
It was such a joy to catch a fish
And boy were they good to eat
Fried fish fresh caught
Right outta our bayou!
But today... I got a different look
Today a baby swallowed my hook
The metal device stuck inside
I saw te terror in his eyes
Twitching awfully, worm still attached
Flicking it's fin's, trying to breathe
The gills forced painfully open
Trying to breathe even if it meant
Forcing the hook deeper into an *****
Body occasionally spasming,
While I frantically look for pliars
Pliars to work out the hook
But of course I couldn't find any
I squeezed two finger nails
Into it's dime shaped throat
And pulled on the hook
I couldn't wiggle it out.
So I did the only thing left
I cut the line
It had been 5 minutes
I knew it was too late
The baby fish was limp now,
I still slid him into the water
He floated on his side to the surface
His gills twitched open,
Trying desperately to breathe
Soon the small gill twitches got sparse
And the baby's eyes turned foggy
I sat there, helpless, as I knew
I just took a life away from this world
It was ****** in my eyes,
And all the torture the baby endured
The pain, only to get a slim snack
The deaths for most of the fish,
Are too slow and tortuous..
I do not fish anymore...
I'm so so sorry.
Àŧùl Sep 2016
Don't torture me like this, oh my life,
Have mercy on my crumbling stature,
The towering height has now bent,
More than a lot it has dwarfed me,
I have gotten dizzy on the descent,
The load of expectations defeated me,
Don't you remember these hands,
Tinier they had been so cute,
Oh mother, oh father, oh,
Oh, I am so tired now,
Hold me in your arms,
Lest I fall into the oblivion.
Cup of life concrete poetry.
My HP Poem #1143
©Atul Kaushal
the pain that i endure
its consistent
it isn't soft
it is torture
so when you say
"you're in my prayers"
save it
i don't want it
not only do i not want it
i don't want you to waste
your breath or thoughts

religion holds millions of us back
the ignorant view of religion consumes us
instead we need solutions
God is a Myth
God is an instigator
God is the root to all evils

Gods of all religions are the main source
of the world's violence
The entirety of "god" is ridiculous
so please,
i don't want them
i don't want your "prayers"
Lily Dunlap Apr 2016
I walk in, everyone looks at me from the sound of the door opening
But it feels like a million laser beams are burning me to the core
Suddenly I feel weak, vulnerable
Every amount of confidence goes away
I feel so helpless, scared and sensitive
Like I'm screaming for help and no one can hear me
They just stare at me like I'm a ******* idiot for being this emotional over something any sane person shouldn't be afraid of
I feel so lost, in a world full of pain
I'm trapped under a spell and I can't escape, I feel like a puppet on strings
I feel held back from living my life on the sidelines instead of taking control
I will never escape this torture
I feel so alone
Andie Lately Feb 2010
Memories are haunting
Plagued by bittersweet times
Forcing its way to the front of minds
Monster clawing its way
Making the sweet escape

Haunted
Never forgiven
Guilt consuming time
Insanity takes over

Banish these monsters
For no one deserves this torture
Banish these monsters
Who tear apart our souls
Who dismember us

God have mercy on these monsters
For they seek freedom
God have mercy on us
The victims of a brutal winter
- From December
Poetic T Jul 2014
I sleep but I know your in my dream,
You follow me
In light,
In darkness,
It doesn't matter, its like a waking dream.
You want this husk, wanting me to leave,
You want to make me the shadow behind the mirror
Unseen,
Screaming,
Unable to breath,
You want my life, but your death corrupts
You were meant to stay there,
Death,
Torture,
Darkness,
My body cant hold you, behind the mirror I scream
You were meant for the darkness
But you crave life,
You want to  live, you wish to live in the light,
You wish to be me, live my life, it is but a dream.
You wish for a foothold
You wish to full fill this twisted dream,
But it is but a darkened dream
To for fill this urge for life, that can never be.
Nevermind Feb 2017
I hate you I wish you were dead
You're a parasite digging in my head
You use your claws to pull my strings
I go insane, fingers pointing at me
No one sees you behind the scenes
They just see me going crazy
You're a demon freed from hell
Im a yolk inside your shell
Just **** me please put me to rest
Or will you torture me instead
I've never felt this violent before
Over someone who I used to adore
**** me in the most painful way
Cut out my tongue and the ****** taste
And I'll never lie again
I'm sorry for the things I said
Francisco DH Dec 2013
Guarded I am now for there is an empty presence surrounding me
      It whispers in my ear. Grabs the memories and scatters them all around.
Hours it wasn't before this presence manifested before me.
       It walks towards me with a smile, with open arms, with a nudge
Only to dissipate, leaving a sadness to cover me as it's residue
        Leaving me to head to the restroom
           To get in a stall
                   To close my eyes and cry
Sometimes when the ones we love leave,  a part of them stays to remind us
           To torture us
                To love us
To make their memory survive but do they know how much it hurts to know that
        the  Presence will always remain but never the real person?
jeffrey robin Feb 2014
Children !

Each makes the perfect
PILGRIM!

Plummets the depths of the fear of death

&
Saves this ****** up world!

••

Child

We of the sleepy generation
We of the greedy *** materialistic generation

We of the brain washed obese and insane generation
The sexually repressed and perverted generation

We cowards
We who believe whatever THEY say

'& do whatever THEY tell us to do

••

We who have made LYING the HIGHEST ART

We who call FRAUD the HIGHEST ECONOMIC GOOD

We who call TORTURE the greatest necessity for democracy's survival

••

WE!

••

Jesus !

Kids!

Beware of us !

WE STINK!
WE STINK
WE STINK!

••

Children
Each makes the perfect
PILGRIM!

plummets the depths of the fear of death

&
Saves this ****** up world

— The End —