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"unnerving" poems
Casualty: my interest fading Once waxing moon now seen waning And I did concede your irksome warning And watched as the rest played out So let bygones be gone, fallen out by the side Of this road, worn down, still restless, keeping straight Eyes glinting off token little bits of hospitality Mother nature being so inclined at times The stress so unnerving, I hardly doubt it But tension is eased once it comes to acceptance And I accept in full, finding time to unwind Winding stretch of lonely road, dotted here and there by An occasional landmark Or a lonely tractor pulling behind it Iron bars, old and rusted Found in their hold Bales of hay or A small little pond With a bench beside it Holding initials carved against the grain With a heart surrounding As mine beats slower At last, the sun begins going down And the moon grows brighter Even in its state And my feet move faster Though my body is withering I feel this separation growing As my mind takes flight and leaves me Behind, in the twisting twilight And alone, I walk along
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Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 6:31 AM UTC
Friday
Off that landspit of stony mouth-plugs, Eyes rolled by white sticks, Ears cupping the sea's incoherences, You house your unnerving head -- God-ball, Lens of mercies, Your stooges Plying their wild cells in my keel's shadow, Pushing by like hearts, Red stigmata at the very center, Riding the rip tide to the nearest point of departure, Dragging their Jesus hair. Did I escape, I wonder? My mind winds to you Old barnacled umbilicus, Atlantic cable, Keeping itself, it seems, in a state of miraculous repair. In any case, you are always there, Tremulous breath at the end of my line, Curve of water upleaping To my water rod, dazzling and grateful, Touching and ******* I didn't call you. I didn't call you at all. Nevertheless, nevertheless You steamed to me over the sea, Fat and red, a placenta Paralyzing the kicking lovers. Cobra light Squeezing the breath from the blood bells Of the fuchsia. I could draw no breath, Dead and moneyless, Overexposed, like an X-ray. Who do you think you are? A Communion wafer? Blubbery Mary? I shall take no bite of your body, Bottle in which I live, Ghastly Vatican. I am sick to death of hot salt. Green as eunuchs, your wishes Hiss at my sins. Off, off, eely tentacle! There is nothing between us.
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19.4k
Medusa
Fly, Dragonfly, fly! Spread your wings and flex your tail take off to the skies, follow the blowing winds! Leave behind the Wicked Men of Hollowing Trail and escape the poisons of their worded sins Fly, Dragonfly, fly! Race, Dragonfly, race! Sweep your wings back against the windy skies Let your heart propel your spirited sprint faster! Faster! Escape from the Forest of Unnerving Lies and the creatures of the Lost Souled ******** Race, Dragonfly, race! Hunt, Dragonfly, hunt! Beat your wings to the sounds of the butterflies Feed your hunger for protecting the meek with the haunting taste of Honey-Soaked Flies and the sting of Sugar-Coated Bees Hunt, Dragonfly, hunt! Rest, Dragonfly, rest! Allow the venom to still your beatful wings Let the swift death claim a Hero's life Beckon the Raven of Heaven to blissfully sing to the tune of the Stalking Sparrow's whistling knife Rest, Dragonfly, rest!
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Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 1:25 PM UTC
Fly, Dragonfly
The shy thing It's like a double edged sword I mean yeah it's cute At times But it keeps things from happening How do you get past the unnerving moments When you want to manifest your feelings In outward actions Because no one can see into your mind Unless you bring your mind to them But the shyness is like a roadblock So treat it as such And break through it
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Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 3:44 AM UTC
Shy
this door exists, stately and staunchly it stands, disheartening and terrifying it remains. the door is unlocked, yet cannot be opened, for in it, a path in time... one decision that can affect everything [such as my choice to wear the necklace you adore, which lead to you noticing me for the very first time, or my idea to play you the song that you fell in love with, which i can no longer listen to] ...for in this door, one path is intimidatingly located. every bone in my body, every last muscle, tendon, ligament each artery, each vein, each capillary every single nerve, even each microscopic cell, implores me not to open this tempting door... [it is almost as if my hand refuses to grasp the handle, to unleash the unknown upon me, the colossal chain of events that would ensue] the immensity of the unfamiliar, the unexplored, tends to perturb me. change is unnerving and is almost as chilling as an abandoned graveyard at midnight. but i bring my mind back to the door, yes! this preposterous door that i have contrived for myself. why is the **** so easily turned? why does it not put up somewhat of a fight, at least jolt me suddenly, as to frighten my curious heart? it is a constant battle between my body my mind and my heart as to which doors to open and which ones to leave ever so steadfastly closed. but never once has there been such a struggle for them to reach an understanding. somehow my heart, [even though a fraction of me, a fist, dripping in blood] is prevailing for the moment. my heart reaches for the handle, attempts to unclose the door... yet, with the best of its ability, withstanding my strong-willed and obstinate heart, my powerful body and commanding mind overcome this hostile takeover, and the door remains shut. it is my body, my skillful mouth, my soft, rose lips, my elegant tongue, and my vocal chords... all of these pieces must contrive the words, conceive the change, which will unveil the path that will forever alter us... slowly, opening the door. being as in love with you as i am, i will not let you slip away from my arms right now. but when we are not together [*i wish you’d have been there, i needed you there*] i stare at this humbling door. if i wait too long, i’ll forever lose you; for it is you who will make this choice for me, opening your own door, fearless and dauntless.
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Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 2:40 AM UTC
The Door
this door exists, stately and staunchly it stands, disheartening and terrifying it remains. the door is unlocked, yet cannot be opened, for in it, a path in time... one decision that can affect everything [such as my choice to wear the necklace you adore, which lead to you noticing me for the very first time, or my idea to play you the song that you fell in love with, which i can no longer listen to] ...for in this door, one path is intimidatingly located. every bone in my body, every last muscle, tendon, ligament each artery, each vein, each capillary every single nerve, even each microscopic cell, implores me not to open this tempting door... [it is almost as if my hand refuses to grasp the handle, to unleash the unknown upon me, the colossal chain of events that would ensue] the immensity of the unfamiliar, the unexplored, tends to perturb me. change is unnerving and is almost as chilling as an abandoned graveyard at midnight. but i bring my mind back to the door, yes! this preposterous door that i have contrived for myself. why is the **** so easily turned? why does it not put up somewhat of a fight, at least jolt me suddenly, as to frighten my curious heart? it is a constant battle between my body my mind and my heart as to which doors to open and which ones to leave ever so steadfastly closed. but never once has there been such a struggle for them to reach an understanding. somehow my heart, [even though a fraction of me, a fist, dripping in blood] is prevailing for the moment. my heart reaches for the handle, attempts to unclose the door... yet, with the best of its ability, withstanding my strong-willed and obstinate heart, my powerful body and commanding mind overcome this hostile takeover, and the door remains shut. it is my body, my skillful mouth, my soft, rose lips, my elegant tongue, and my vocal chords... all of these pieces must contrive the words, conceive the change, which will unveil the path that will forever alter us... slowly, opening the door. being as in love with you as i am, i will not let you slip away from my arms right now. but when we are not together [*i wish you’d have been there, i needed you there*] i stare at this humbling door. if i wait too long, i’ll forever lose you; for it is you who will make this choice for me, opening your own door, fearless and dauntless.
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71
You slowly walk down the avenue of normality Ignoring the side streets and oddly placed alleys Change, you feel, is strange and unnerving You stay straight and narrow, no veering or swerving You look at us weirdos and our strange machinations you speed up your pace with much trepidation You're so busy keeping to the road that's more traveled that you are completely unaware that it's turning to gravel You're walking alone, and the road has all but decayed the streets that you passed up, now bustling highways Your fear of the odd and peculiar, the offbeat uncommon has led you to become alone, forlorn, and unwanted Everyone's different Everyone's weird Everyone has secrets that no one will hear You wanted to be normal, and normal you are now you're a minority, among the bizarre
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May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Minority
Your head feels foggy you sense yourself unwind, It’s the same dreadful demons toying with your mind. They wait till it’s dark or the lights are down low, unnerving sickly attacks through your blood and bones. You can’t hide your black heart the demons can see, they don’t allow any space in your head to breathe.   They tear your reason to shreds you need fixing. A worn stone sinking in an ocean that’s rotting, you decay miserably since you're forced to bend the knee. How much more agony can the universe bring. Not even your screams can get you out of the cold, and you’d rather give up and drown, than go it alone.
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Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 11:34 PM UTC
Demons
#his eyes are warm, a hazel brown upon his head the devil’s crown hell's fire reveals his true intention it's why the lord refused his ascension his lust it flickers, a candle in the storm mine burns for him, undying, unnerving he doesn't love me he never will but oh he's a man when he grips my thigh he spreads me open and makes me sigh asserting dominance he whispers sin i cry for god but my voice runs thin he's had his ***** way with me I'm tainted, ruined, marked and done he's finished with me, had his fun yet sometimes in my wildest dreams I yearn for him and that wicked gleam.
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Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 3:50 PM UTC
.the devil
Sonoran desert sacred, hot breathed scorch of footsteps, blood red sands sun bleached bones and skulls this wash a hallowed holy ghost an unnerving place of hiss and fire molten sun to dry the water a drowning fever of prickly sweat last night the Yaqui man you met undulating in a purification ceremony lashing energy cords cut he is laughing like coyote, wild eyed green the velvet desert peyote awakened you have come to understand a universe within a fleck of sand.
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Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
Desert purification
They follow me every where I go I wish they would stop It unnerving Like having a stalker One that you know will never leave You can't report it You would be sent to the Insane Asylum So I have a question Will you come with me?
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Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 9:31 PM UTC
Shadows
*Your love is like skydiving,    an unnerving thought, breathless & intoxicating   elevations beyond exhilarating,   as it transforms life's panorama     nothing seemed ever the same,          after the thrill of the fall*
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Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
Love like skydiving
*So young and trite is the day Born from this new light Creatures of the dark and mist curl and wither Only to return by midlight The rose afar rises and stretches Bloodshed velvet bleeds its regal glow Smooth tips and enticing fragrance Dark greens, stiff and sharp as spines Beads of water glisten and shimmer A blood’s true jewel Thy shadows came in thy’s slithery way Enveloping Devil’s Beauty Charcoal webs and silver-black imprints Spiral and intertwine, death and blood a dangerous omen Thy Beauty’s velvet lips decay A cancer slow moving and fast changing Taking over thy body in one gulp Last, final tips of red appear before swallow Accenting and tracing its last magnificent life Midlight turns to midnight Bloodlines disappear As the wind wails through the dead A song, chilling, unnerving to us all*
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Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 11:42 AM UTC
Midlight
A single life so worthless, that poor fly, Sooner than its timely moment to die, As commanded by my unnerving will, Its incompetent life I chose to **** Put more simply, for disturbing my peace, Its feeble and destitute life I ceased. Yet my bloodstained hands always remained clean, Once crimeful killing had become routine. What almighty and sinful God am I For unsparingly judging who must die By my sword, without remorse or regret, The slaughtered fly under my gavel, I forget. An evil power from no source or spring Springs power in me like a maddened King.
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Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 10:43 AM UTC
The Fly
Tongue in cheek I detest you Hand over foot Make a peep ***** And I promise I'll ****** you Bad tact I'm a cesspool Festering in the nestle of your daughter's well developing ******* Everyday I follow her home from school This unnerving pervert unearthing fervor making ya catatonic & giving your heart murmurs Nurture the thought It's just the tip (Of the iceberg) Gotta stir the paint before you make a mural Ma'am, I'll purloin your ham purse until my burial Don't be a sourpuss It's final I'm vile And I swear I'm not a ********* Want some candy?
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Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 7:23 AM UTC
Creeper
There are many side effects of being ambitious, but having the desire and determination to succeed is not and will never be a bad thing. when you've encountered so many tribulations and you want something as desprestly as you want to breathe, you know that giving up has never been an option and will never be, but the most challenging thing is that most of these people only try to minimize our aspirations and what we wish to be. but I guess that's what we get when we're living in a city full of sorrow, deceit and unfulfilled dreams. And nobody wants to listen when we try to tell them,  but There's this  yearning inside of me that everyone is failing to see. and I have every intent of satisfying this hunger no matter how difficult it is to achieve. I guess a side effect of being ambitious is not knowing when enough is enough. I was taught that nothing good comes easily, We have to fight for what we want and most likely it'll be tough. but we were born fighters with purpose running through our veins zealously, causing us to be relentless when it comes to what we crave to be. now don't get me wrong I'll put on for my city KC, but it's not at all the place I aspire to be, and to put it simply I have to leave and I owe all of that to my ambitious personality. a side effect of being ambitious is having unnerving passion, making others feel threatened as they try to reconstruct our visions into ideas that they can understand. but just because they do it does not mean we have to give in. the ball is in your court, this is your life. take control. it wouldn't make sense to throw everything away to appease the mind of someone who has already lost their soul.   A side effect of being ambitious is having unwavering Faith. I just wish for you to never be discouraged, because ambition will forever and always be one of the most attractive traits.
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Jul 21, 2015
Jul 21, 2015 at 8:35 PM UTC
Side Effects of Being Ambitious
There are many side effects of being ambitious, but having the desire and determination to succeed is not and will never be a bad thing. when you've encountered so many tribulations and you want something as desprestly as you want to breathe, you know that giving up has never been an option and will never be, but the most challenging thing is that most of these people only try to minimize our aspirations and what we wish to be. but I guess that's what we get when we're living in a city full of sorrow, deceit and unfulfilled dreams. And nobody wants to listen when we try to tell them,  but There's this  yearning inside of me that everyone is failing to see. and I have every intent of satisfying this hunger no matter how difficult it is to achieve. I guess a side effect of being ambitious is not knowing when enough is enough. I was taught that nothing good comes easily, We have to fight for what we want and most likely it'll be tough. but we were born fighters with purpose running through our veins zealously, causing us to be relentless when it comes to what we crave to be. now don't get me wrong I'll put on for my city KC, but it's not at all the place I aspire to be, and to put it simply I have to leave and I owe all of that to my ambitious personality. a side effect of being ambitious is having unnerving passion, making others feel threatened as they try to reconstruct our visions into ideas that they can understand. but just because they do it does not mean we have to give in. the ball is in your court, this is your life. take control. it wouldn't make sense to throw everything away to appease the mind of someone who has already lost their soul.   A side effect of being ambitious is having unwavering Faith. I just wish for you to never be discouraged, because ambition will forever and always be one of the most attractive traits.
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16
I am ragged and Dismembered In velveteen splendour. Assembled by a drunk, Who couldn't remember What loveliness Looked like. I'm too tall for my height. You are pulpy and bright Like today's magazines. Your eyes are spotless like Ironed jeans, And they fold and crease in smiles at me. You find me funny. I am sterile and naked And aching with Tension. I'll bend into positions to Get your attention. I am fixed in the curb, and you gather the nerve to cope with my most unnerving dimensions. (I love you. I forget to mention.) You've never indulged in petty *** You wrap my arms around Your neck, like I'm a scarf. I make you laugh. You've never been out on the scene. You've never found yourself between two strangers in a darkened room. Bedroom theatre's not for you. Nor costume. You've never smoked. You've never drank so much You've choked on hot-bodied ***** and collapsed in the road. You had four pints of beer and I watched you explode. From your skin I lick atoms of the sky and shampoo. You are dripping with hygiene, You are clear, you are blue. In mirrors you stand and watch me watching you.
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Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 2:00 PM UTC
hygiene
The eerie warmth that comes with the calm before. The unnerving shade of black that only clouds can claim. The heat that rises from tarmac on empty, open roads. The scent of petrichor from the passing of earlier rain. The first rumble starts somewhere unknown and distant. The suggestion, an omen, of the beginning of an end. The first drop of rainfall from another night of storms. The thunder waking creatures from their beds. The sounds increase slowly as time crawls and passes. The night is young and roars keep rolling in. The dark, as such, so early in the evening. The set of warm goosebumps rising over skin. The colour of the sunset behind their eyelids. The blood of Gods is soaking up their breaths. The momentary post apocalyptic sense of living. The moody skies catalyse thoughts of untimely deaths. The passing of the clouds seems dangerously fast. The growls now thick and boisterous, vehement and clear . The dust that whips past legs and arms and faces. The shelter is no barrier for the splitting of an ear. The tranquillity of standing up in air now still. The peace of opportunity to look over horizons. The aftermath of rain and wind and thunder. The silence of one mind becoming enlightened.
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May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
A Thunder Storm
I turned the corner, entering the Italian sculpture collection at Le Louvre, delighting in the smells and quiet sounds of the museum. I walked slowly down the creaking wood floored corridor, ignoring the Dirce, the Nymph and the Scorpion, till I came to Antonio Canova’s Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. I gazed at it lazily, longingly, savoring its sensuality, love, and tenderness. It was beautiful, beyond belief, exquisite. It evoked so many emotions, to the point of being overwhelming. I stared at it, losing myself, in time and reverie, wishing I could love and be loved with such intensity. “It’s beautiful, “I heard a feminine whisper in my ear. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my neck. “Yes,” I replied, slowly, instinctively, coming out of my trance, and turning towards the voice. Our eyes met, locked, I couldn’t look away, as if bewitched, her incandescent blue eyes fathomless, tender, worldly, looking, seeing deep into my soul. I could feel her in me, like a new born kitten exploring every nook and cranny. It was slightly unnerving, knowing she could wander, at will, unfettered, and yet calming, even comforting. As I regained my sense, I recognized her and stared, incredulously, until she said, softly, sweetly, “je m’appelle Seraphine.”   She moved in a bit closer, cocking her head towards my right ear, and whispered, “It is my favorite, it's so tender and passionate, the way he holds her, kisses her, the way only a god could.” I noted her tone, the way she said it, with such confidence, as if she knew, from experience, what it was like, to be kissed, loved, by a god.   She gently pulled back a bit, looked me in the eyes, like a child looking at a puppy. She was beautiful, preternaturally beautiful, a paragon, goddess like. I just stared at her in awe. “I think we’ve seen each other around Paris”, she said softly, smiling, “and may have bumped into each other in the Metro.” “Yes, I think we have,” I replied, as she extended her right hand, as a queen would, to a knight. I didn’t know if I should  kneel and kiss her hand, or shake it. I took her hand in mine, it was soft, warm, moist. I could feel her youth, femininity, life in her hand. I shook it, gently, stopped, slightly released my grip, our hands slid apart, touching, sliding, caressing down our fingers, stopping ever so slightly at the tips, before releasing. The ecstasy of her touch. I longed for more. I heard her sigh, my eyes moved from her hand, to her lips, finally to her eyes. I smiled and said, almost in a whisper, “Je m’appelle Damien.”
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Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 3:48 PM UTC
Séraphine, Chapitre no 4, Le Louvre (vampire erotica)
I turned the corner, entering the Italian sculpture collection at Le Louvre, delighting in the smells and quiet sounds of the museum. I walked slowly down the creaking wood floored corridor, ignoring the Dirce, the Nymph and the Scorpion, till I came to Antonio Canova’s Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss. I gazed at it lazily, longingly, savoring its sensuality, love, and tenderness. It was beautiful, beyond belief, exquisite. It evoked so many emotions, to the point of being overwhelming. I stared at it, losing myself, in time and reverie, wishing I could love and be loved with such intensity. “It’s beautiful, “I heard a feminine whisper in my ear. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my neck. “Yes,” I replied, slowly, instinctively, coming out of my trance, and turning towards the voice. Our eyes met, locked, I couldn’t look away, as if bewitched, her incandescent blue eyes fathomless, tender, worldly, looking, seeing deep into my soul. I could feel her in me, like a new born kitten exploring every nook and cranny. It was slightly unnerving, knowing she could wander, at will, unfettered, and yet calming, even comforting. As I regained my sense, I recognized her and stared, incredulously, until she said, softly, sweetly, “je m’appelle Seraphine.”   She moved in a bit closer, cocking her head towards my right ear, and whispered, “It is my favorite, it's so tender and passionate, the way he holds her, kisses her, the way only a god could.” I noted her tone, the way she said it, with such confidence, as if she knew, from experience, what it was like, to be kissed, loved, by a god.   She gently pulled back a bit, looked me in the eyes, like a child looking at a puppy. She was beautiful, preternaturally beautiful, a paragon, goddess like. I just stared at her in awe. “I think we’ve seen each other around Paris”, she said softly, smiling, “and may have bumped into each other in the Metro.” “Yes, I think we have,” I replied, as she extended her right hand, as a queen would, to a knight. I didn’t know if I should  kneel and kiss her hand, or shake it. I took her hand in mine, it was soft, warm, moist. I could feel her youth, femininity, life in her hand. I shook it, gently, stopped, slightly released my grip, our hands slid apart, touching, sliding, caressing down our fingers, stopping ever so slightly at the tips, before releasing. The ecstasy of her touch. I longed for more. I heard her sigh, my eyes moved from her hand, to her lips, finally to her eyes. I smiled and said, almost in a whisper, “Je m’appelle Damien.”
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8
it's unnerving how easily a pair of eyes strip me down and take away every layer of defense I have built up over the years. hey sweetie, why don't you come over here? because I don't want to, because you're repulsive and your voice is scary and I felt your eyes on me from the instant I crossed the street and I was hoping you wouldn't speak. want me to show you a good time? but I was having the best time before I knew you existed, when I was still just a person walking home and the silent threats you make hadn't made it to the horizon of my mind **** what you doing walking around with hips like those?* hips like these belong to my mother and her mother and all of the women that have come before me. in my body I possess history and blood so strong it was only ever spilled during times of war. how dare you. attempt to take that strength and power and pride away from me. don't you know that I am magic, that my body exists as art only I should be allowed to admire who gave you permission to steal from god's temple? [I still see the dark look in your eyes when you said that to me, the emptiness of your pupils haunt me. they say that you see me as nothing more than a body, a corpse. someone to walk over. someone to conquer. you licked your lips and winked, the wrinkles in your skin were clear even in the dark and I could see that your two front teeth were missing, so now I can't stop having nightmares you grabbing me and tearing me apart, using the same legs you whistled at as toothpicks] *why are you walking so ******* fast?* because you are terrifying. because I know despite how brittle your bones may appear there is a large chance if you catch me I won't escape. because the risk of not escaping is an automatic death to me in every sense of the word. because I have friends, and they have told me how their bodies were pillaged at the hands of men like you. *who the **** do you think you are?* I think I am an island and I wish you wouldn't insist on being so intrusive. **** you too, ***** I just want to go home. I just want to go home. why can't you let me do that? you're not even that pretty anyway when I met up with my best friend she hugged me and said I smelled like vanilla, that I got more beautiful over the summer, and that boys are going to lose their minds when they see me. my mother shows me off boastfully, brags about my small waist like it is a trophy, tells all my family that I am peligrosamente hermosa, dangerously beautiful. and I believed them until I met you.
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Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
"what's catcalling?"
it's unnerving how easily a pair of eyes strip me down and take away every layer of defense I have built up over the years. hey sweetie, why don't you come over here? because I don't want to, because you're repulsive and your voice is scary and I felt your eyes on me from the instant I crossed the street and I was hoping you wouldn't speak. want me to show you a good time? but I was having the best time before I knew you existed, when I was still just a person walking home and the silent threats you make hadn't made it to the horizon of my mind **** what you doing walking around with hips like those?* hips like these belong to my mother and her mother and all of the women that have come before me. in my body I possess history and blood so strong it was only ever spilled during times of war. how dare you. attempt to take that strength and power and pride away from me. don't you know that I am magic, that my body exists as art only I should be allowed to admire who gave you permission to steal from god's temple? [I still see the dark look in your eyes when you said that to me, the emptiness of your pupils haunt me. they say that you see me as nothing more than a body, a corpse. someone to walk over. someone to conquer. you licked your lips and winked, the wrinkles in your skin were clear even in the dark and I could see that your two front teeth were missing, so now I can't stop having nightmares you grabbing me and tearing me apart, using the same legs you whistled at as toothpicks] *why are you walking so ******* fast?* because you are terrifying. because I know despite how brittle your bones may appear there is a large chance if you catch me I won't escape. because the risk of not escaping is an automatic death to me in every sense of the word. because I have friends, and they have told me how their bodies were pillaged at the hands of men like you. *who the **** do you think you are?* I think I am an island and I wish you wouldn't insist on being so intrusive. **** you too, ***** I just want to go home. I just want to go home. why can't you let me do that? you're not even that pretty anyway when I met up with my best friend she hugged me and said I smelled like vanilla, that I got more beautiful over the summer, and that boys are going to lose their minds when they see me. my mother shows me off boastfully, brags about my small waist like it is a trophy, tells all my family that I am peligrosamente hermosa, dangerously beautiful. and I believed them until I met you.
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63
I think I would like to make a home of your body Like the dens I used to make with my siblings, Before I started saying "no thanks". To take a doctor's scalpel, Clean and new and never used And so very, very sharp And to rest it in the hollow just where the breastbone ends. Then to push it in along your soft smooth shiny skin So unlike the mottled scarring that covers mine. Down, down, down To where you wear the waistband of your jeans. A horizontal swipe at the top, At the bottom, Like making the fold of a window in a paper house. Shh, is anyone home? Lifting the heavy, wet flesh, Your rib cage is so very white And so very perfect Like special cutlery for special occasions- Births and weddings and funerals. They hide your lungs, Bloodshot and tired of the Eternal Moving and moving and moving on and on and on Your stomach, soft And vulnerable in its hideousness Yet it hides the despicable necessity Of human life. And your heart, Plump and fresh and young, It is restless and strains But for what when all that lies outside Is incomprehensible and unnerving and unwelcoming. So I will leave it all behind And with damp heavy fatigue crawl Into your torso like the unborn child We have all been and will be again. And your ribs will cradle me like a birdcage That has grown so sick of the world, And your organs will cushion and comfort me When I feel that I do not want to live. And blood will cover everything Just as I have always wanted. Flooding my eyes and nose and mouth and ears And bathing me in the warmth, the constant gentle pounding, That would make me feel alive.
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May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
Bodies
I think I would like to make a home of your body Like the dens I used to make with my siblings, Before I started saying "no thanks". To take a doctor's scalpel, Clean and new and never used And so very, very sharp And to rest it in the hollow just where the breastbone ends. Then to push it in along your soft smooth shiny skin So unlike the mottled scarring that covers mine. Down, down, down To where you wear the waistband of your jeans. A horizontal swipe at the top, At the bottom, Like making the fold of a window in a paper house. Shh, is anyone home? Lifting the heavy, wet flesh, Your rib cage is so very white And so very perfect Like special cutlery for special occasions- Births and weddings and funerals. They hide your lungs, Bloodshot and tired of the Eternal Moving and moving and moving on and on and on Your stomach, soft And vulnerable in its hideousness Yet it hides the despicable necessity Of human life. And your heart, Plump and fresh and young, It is restless and strains But for what when all that lies outside Is incomprehensible and unnerving and unwelcoming. So I will leave it all behind And with damp heavy fatigue crawl Into your torso like the unborn child We have all been and will be again. And your ribs will cradle me like a birdcage That has grown so sick of the world, And your organs will cushion and comfort me When I feel that I do not want to live. And blood will cover everything Just as I have always wanted. Flooding my eyes and nose and mouth and ears And bathing me in the warmth, the constant gentle pounding, That would make me feel alive.
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Problems, Problems everywhere. Equations, Expressions it’s so unfair! From x to y from y to x, You never know what comes next! Until it leaves you with one desire. Math, I hope you die in a fire. Well, I don’t actually feel that way. In fact, Math is kinda ok. Although Math sometimes can be disturbing, a world without it would be quite unnerving.
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Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 5:04 PM UTC
Math
S tronger than myself, You chain me to your wrist and Narrow my vision Until all I see is your sadistic face through the tunnel and Those malicious brown eyes Above thin, chapped, upturned lips. T ainting my face, you do, Painting with tears of both Joy from your eyes and The frustrated loss of hope that claims to be mine, Which I proceed to rub with a scalding cloth Until raw, I become So I can claim to be blonde when people question if they saw and Make a narrow escape from shame. R un, I cannot; and However cunning I may be, You will still be on my tail, Nose to the ground and posterior in the air, Gaining speed at an unnerving pace, Until my skinny knees clatter and I violently shake, Vomiting on myself, Either from exhaustion or fear, However, the later holds more ground. E ven my breath becomes yours and My dreams are at your mercy. Consider my plea, Lucky are thee to have me beg, Thrown to the ground where dirt may stain my face, An honor rarely reserved for anyone, but You hold over me all I wish to have. S neaking past all my guards In elaborate disguises, Thrown around in white and Handed out with smiles, I run like a fool into you, Wrapping my arms in a tight embrace, Greeting you like a friend who hides a knife. S uffocating under your pressure, I find myself screaming out. In the darkest corner, I wish to hide, Buried in words that cannot hurt, Contrary to your bitter whispers and Pestering bites. Like a wound you fester Deep beneath my skin. Yes, I cannot take it. Under your pressure, I make myself mute.
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Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 8:33 PM UTC
S.T.R.E.S.S
S tronger than myself, You chain me to your wrist and Narrow my vision Until all I see is your sadistic face through the tunnel and Those malicious brown eyes Above thin, chapped, upturned lips. T ainting my face, you do, Painting with tears of both Joy from your eyes and The frustrated loss of hope that claims to be mine, Which I proceed to rub with a scalding cloth Until raw, I become So I can claim to be blonde when people question if they saw and Make a narrow escape from shame. R un, I cannot; and However cunning I may be, You will still be on my tail, Nose to the ground and posterior in the air, Gaining speed at an unnerving pace, Until my skinny knees clatter and I violently shake, Vomiting on myself, Either from exhaustion or fear, However, the later holds more ground. E ven my breath becomes yours and My dreams are at your mercy. Consider my plea, Lucky are thee to have me beg, Thrown to the ground where dirt may stain my face, An honor rarely reserved for anyone, but You hold over me all I wish to have. S neaking past all my guards In elaborate disguises, Thrown around in white and Handed out with smiles, I run like a fool into you, Wrapping my arms in a tight embrace, Greeting you like a friend who hides a knife. S uffocating under your pressure, I find myself screaming out. In the darkest corner, I wish to hide, Buried in words that cannot hurt, Contrary to your bitter whispers and Pestering bites. Like a wound you fester Deep beneath my skin. Yes, I cannot take it. Under your pressure, I make myself mute.
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Clear, simple blue skies. Unnerving negative space. A girl decorates. She stitches and glues. Flying machines of all kinds. A girl must create. Colors shade sunlight. Wind gifts them the breath to dance. A girl must hold on. She pulls a heart string, Knots this to her creations, A girl unravels. To the skies, she goes Free in flight, she whips and spins. A girl, so rootless.
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Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
arya the kitemaker (linked haiku)
Her timid, inexperienced hands Young, unsure and insecure Didn't understand The power in her touch soothed his soul. She had no idea she was the chosen one As an evolved woman in her 40s She now understands that Her hands felt like heaters when they touched his soul. Penetrating his skin Skin smooth like silk Passion hot like fire The majestic curve of her hips The fullness of her ******* The softness of her lips Had a hypnotic effect Shaking this very powerful man To his very core. To see your soul's mirror reflection In another being Was completely unnerving The vicious battle of wills and ego That later ensued Was simply a defense mechanism For the both of them This level of intimacy Felt like a personal invasion What felt like an attempt Of mind and body control Or strategic manipulation Was truly the essence Of old familiar souls Reconnecting with each other This unbridled passion Was electrifying Every nerve was a live wire Intensity so strong it was alarming ******** full body electrocutions Powerfully addictive Never underestimate the significance Of the soul tie For as ancient energies exchange Souls intertwine This is an unbreakable bond Stronger than betrayal, conflict or estrangement Its unforgettable Holding this queen to your chest Without uttering a single word She was "home" Only the two of you share this special space With the ability to speak to each others thoughts And feel the others' soul cries You are deeply connected You are not alone So in the next lifetime Be brave enough To trust each other. Respect this bond as something far more than simple lust May we seize the opportunity And learn, build and grow together May next journey not be so lonely Marred with confusion, insecurities Ego and self doubt May we find comfort In our shared heartache Of the loss of our earthly mothers We will forever be connected spiritually Throughout the passage of time And the rest of eternity Until we meet again. © 2017
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Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
Soul Ties
Her timid, inexperienced hands Young, unsure and insecure Didn't understand The power in her touch soothed his soul. She had no idea she was the chosen one As an evolved woman in her 40s She now understands that Her hands felt like heaters when they touched his soul. Penetrating his skin Skin smooth like silk Passion hot like fire The majestic curve of her hips The fullness of her ******* The softness of her lips Had a hypnotic effect Shaking this very powerful man To his very core. To see your soul's mirror reflection In another being Was completely unnerving The vicious battle of wills and ego That later ensued Was simply a defense mechanism For the both of them This level of intimacy Felt like a personal invasion What felt like an attempt Of mind and body control Or strategic manipulation Was truly the essence Of old familiar souls Reconnecting with each other This unbridled passion Was electrifying Every nerve was a live wire Intensity so strong it was alarming ******** full body electrocutions Powerfully addictive Never underestimate the significance Of the soul tie For as ancient energies exchange Souls intertwine This is an unbreakable bond Stronger than betrayal, conflict or estrangement Its unforgettable Holding this queen to your chest Without uttering a single word She was "home" Only the two of you share this special space With the ability to speak to each others thoughts And feel the others' soul cries You are deeply connected You are not alone So in the next lifetime Be brave enough To trust each other. Respect this bond as something far more than simple lust May we seize the opportunity And learn, build and grow together May next journey not be so lonely Marred with confusion, insecurities Ego and self doubt May we find comfort In our shared heartache Of the loss of our earthly mothers We will forever be connected spiritually Throughout the passage of time And the rest of eternity Until we meet again. © 2017
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