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Icarus M Nov 2013
I wish I could die then I would eat chicken waffles and dump blueberry syrup over my grave.
Tomb of the chicken, I will die, and can eat dumps syrup Blueberry waffles.
You can eat the Tomb mold, chicken, Blueberry dump syrup waffles.

I cut my wrist because the blood calms me like watching the soft waves. Brutal crashing down and writer's block.
Watching the wrist of my blood and mind calming soft waves and writer's block cut crash down is brutal.
Cruel lies in watching to reduce wrist crash calm the heart and the blood of my soft waves and writer's block.
To reduce wrist crashing a cruel lie to see soft waves of calm mind and I and the writers block blood available.
Please see the waves of serenity soft wrist heart and I writer blood available to reduce the crash a cruel lie a block.
See soft serenity available writers blood cruel lie block crash to reduce wrist heart waves.
See the block to reduce wrist heart wave soft serenity available lighter blood cruel lie crash.
Soft wrist heart wave still available light blood see block to reduce the cruel lie crash.
See the block still light soft wrist wave available to reduce crash a cruel lie.
Readily available in the cruel light soft wrist still wave block to reduce the crash there.
For the cruel light soft wrist still wave block to reduce crash there can easily exploit.
Crashes that can be used to reduce the abuse a simple soft wrist still wave block.
Abuse of the crash can be used to reduce the wave block yet simple soft wrist.
Abuse of the crash can be used to reduce the wave block yet simple soft wrist.
amber May 2014
heavenly wrist
drips from its core
sleeping but renewed
once it starts to pour

heavenly wrist
i love the lace
around and around
your wrist I chased

heavenly wrist
what is this new colour?
and what was that
sudden shudder?

heavenly wrist
did something go wrong?
did the drips from the core
last for too long?

heavenly wrist
veins no longer show
blood has stopped
it's heavenly flow

heavenly wrist
heavenly wrist
why did it
end up like this?
King Mar 2019
Hi. My name is Michael, and if you’re reading this then please share it. On January 5th something strange happened to me. I’m not the strange type of person at all, I have a seemingly normal and average life that I’ve been living. Im single, I work a small yet suitable office job, I have a caring family, I spend my free time with friends or putting puzzles together, occasionally watching TV.. I’m sure the following details have bored you, but I’ve been urged to put down all I know.
As for what has happened.. January 5th, it was a weekday and I woke up in order to get ready for work just like I do every day. I got out of bed, brushed my hair with a comb, brushed my teeth, and put on my khakis and dress shirt.. yet when I rolled up my sleeves I saw a black dotted line over a small space on my left wrist. This was the start of these strange occurrences. The line was like sharpie, some non erasable marker that had gotten to my wrist somehow. I had no memory or clue to where it came from, yet it was there. At the time I didn’t think much of it so I went on with my day. The strangeness happened yet again the next day when I woke up.. I did the same thing as the last day, yet again when I went to roll up my sleeves I noticed the dotted line was gone.. in its place was an extremely thin scar. As soon as I touched it, just a graze from my thumb, it hurt.. the scar had me extremely concerned but what was even more concerning was the fact that it hurt! I convinced myself so eagerly it was ok! Its fine.. I just.. I didn’t know where the scar had came from! I still don’t! It baffles me and I think about it so so often.. anyways. I was convinced it was a weird sprain, so I made a small brace out of some bandage and I decided to head to work, arriving late which was terrible on my average record. I couldn’t even begin to think that day, it was as if my mind was fogged with questions, theories, concerns and what to do? Who gets into a situation like this? Yet again, I convinced myself it wasn’t as bad as I was making it out to be..
Then I went home, I went to bed and woke up the next day. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t breath when I saw how bad of shape my wrist was, it was painted with black and blue and looked sickly.. I was so distraught, I yelped in my one person apartment before I cried. Never had I been more scared for what had happened to me! Until of course.. I noticed the dotted lines on my right wrist. That was what killed me. I felt like I was going insane, I couldn’t think for atleast half an hour as I was practically paralyzed with fear of what was happening! I didn’t want to be without two working hands..
So with my right hand still working I left to the hospital, I drove fast, as fast as I could while shaking.. I swear the doctors thought I was there for mental treatment when I first approached then blabbering on how something was coming to scar my wrist, on how I needed the line removed.. yet I was calmed as they took me to get an xray of my worse wrist. They kept me in a room afterwards, I waited 3 hours before a shy doctor came in slowly.. he seemed distraught, which didn’t help my situation at all. “Mr. Dickenson…” he said softly, as if trying to calm me before revealing the neighbor ran over my cat, or my mom couldn’t get me that new console.. “I’m sorry to say this, but from the xrays we have it appears that there is excess blood in your wrist from.. well.. one of the bones in your wrist is.. gone.” He said calmly, my stomach dropped and my eyes widened. What the hell? How the hell? I laughed at first as he showed me the xrays before I explained to him dreadfully how it had to have happened. It HAD to have been in my sleep! The lines!! I didn’t understand. He agreed he would keep me for the next few nights to assess my situation. I was lucky that he was as baffled as me..
So I spent my night in the hospital, and as it can be assumed.. there was indeed a scar on my right wrist, and my left had only been getting worse, more painful, more bruised.. I cried as I saw my situation, something had stolen parts of me.. hell I cant even move my right wrist.. I’ve been painfully jotting this all down with a faulty left wrist, that feels like mush where my bone was stolen. I woke up crying as the doctor came in to take me to get more xrays.. three bones from my right wrist had been stolen. The funny thing? I was in the hospital all night. Me and this doctor checked everything to find any forced entries, we checked security cameras to find nothing had been on them.. I don’t know what this is, this ghost, or disease, or hell whatever is happening to me!! What I know is that I’ve checked my body, again, and tomorrow I will die.. these rotten lines made their mark right where the doctor had said my heart is. He checked and as of now it’s still beating.. I’ve called my parents and friends, and sadly they don’t believe me much. Who would? Without proof like the doctor has I sound insane. I’m writing this because maybe you can escape it. Maybe you’ll be able to seek help when you first see the lines.. because I’ve read stories like this. These ghosts. These demons.. these diseases… they never stop after patient zero. Check your wrists before you go to bed tonight, and when you wake up. I would hate to have someone miss a sign.
I’m in watch now. They have cameras in my hospital room to try and catch it better this time. I’ll continue this if I don’t die tonight.
(Last entry, January 8th)
SG Jun 2010
Unfolding flowers, grasping, slipping through the future’s mist
The weights of fear and experience worn on a wrist

A touch, smooth yet microscopically rough, transfers words
Like a ****** postcard with postage stamps worn on a wrist

A god’s sculpture, a child’s toy, and scientist’s creation, a trinket –
The rust of effort and tears worn on a wrist

Wet from lake water, dried on a dock, then wet again by grassy dew,
Friend’s woven strings warmed by the sun worn on a wrist

Like museum displays, filaments suspended through champagne and handshakes
Everlasting elegance worn on a wrist

Twisting and folding, the doorways to gentle kindness and flinching pain
Choices and reactions worn on a wrist

Strings that pull with fist’s enclosure, blue laces act as highways beneath glazed skin
Flip over hands to a weak exposure worn on a wrist

Windows open on a Wednesday, a gaze across the room
27 bodies rising and falling
A look left – a look down – hair cascading:
Secrets and apologies worn on my wrist.
Don't worry, I'm not a cutter. I just find the delicacy and machinery of a wrist to be quite amazing. I wrote this poem for a school English assignment.
Shara Anderson Feb 2018
Every story begins with an end: a lost love, the end of a war, the end of a friendship. My story begins with the completion of a bracelet. Each charm holds my story- a hope, a wish, a dream, and a story in my heart just waiting to be told….

A butterfly hangs on my wrist-
a constant reminder of my wish-
ugly like a caterpillar, I feel,
to go through metamorphosis I wish.

A home rests on my skin-
a reminder of my dream-
unhappy at home, I long for a change,
A happy home, full of life, I dream.

There is an anchor on this tiny wrist oof mine-
incessantly reminding me
that there is no need to float in the malevolence and dark of the world-
longing to be anchored to the world, I make a dream,
to find something to hold me here is my hope, my dream, my wish.

The moon hangs on my wrist-
an incessant reminder that I am never alone-
afraid in the dark I find myself,
a light in the dark of night is my hope.

A star from the sky dangles on my wrist-
a wish that nary a dream nor a hope can fill-
darkened by my life, I long to change,
to get over my “sickness,”
to be happy, I wish.

A little girl smiles at me every day-
a little boy smiles up next to her-
reminding me that I have eleven years to make up for,
that I have something,
someone worth living for.
A little girl,
a little girl that looks so much like me,
to come back to my baby siblings is my beacon of hope,
my reason to keep on keeping on.

A bass clef remains with me at all times-
a constant reminder that I can and will survive-
disheartened by the life I live, I dream,
the promise I made,
my way to save the day.

A guitar rocks on on my wrist-
a promise to myself-
I can survive, I say,
just like rock ‘n’ roll never dies-
a song for every broken heart, the promise was made
now I must find a way.

I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve one too many times,
so now I wear it on my wrist-
a reminder of my hope, my wish, my dream-
alone with no love I find myself,
to find love is my wish.

A sparrow lies on my wrist in midflight
reminding me that
like a sparrow I can fly
but no matter how hard I try
I cannot touch the sky.

A flower lays next to it
reminding me that
like a flower I can grow
but no matter what I say
I cannot grow alone.

A book is open on my wrist-
an insistent promise of a sweet escape-
longing for a happy ending, I dream
a way to escape is my wish.

A phoenix burns on my wrist-
an incessant reminder of my pain,
a symbol of hope and rebirth,
a reminder that I was born to die,
and I will die to live,
but what’s the point of living life if it just contradicts?
a talisman for my life, I wish,
to rise from the ashes is my dream.

An ancient dragon slumbers on me-
an immortal power,
an unimaginable being,
an indescribable strength,
an unrelenting force.
Useless like a mouse, I feel.
To have strength and power in my life,
a futile quest, I find myself on.

A lock and key keeps my secrets safe,
Hidden on my wrist-
An ancient confession
of a forsaken love,
a lost embrace
from another life,
a forgotten kiss
from an ancient love,
a distant wish,
and a promise I must keep
before I move onto the next life….
Caleb Dempsey Feb 2015
The heart on my wrist
It used to be a bright blue
But every time
I kiss someone new

The heart on my wrist
Will shrink and fade
And one day I fear
It will forever fade into my skin

The heart on my wrist
Is the only reason 
That I can see the faces
Of those whose lips have met yours

The heart on my wrist
Allows me to see their eyes
When my tongue dances 
With yours and we dance around lies

The heart on my wrist
Feels the pain that hides
In the corners of your heart
And makes me to cry your tears

The heart on my wrist
It gives you a piece of me
That I cannot afford to lose
But it’s too late for that now
Terry Collett Apr 2015
Snow drifted by. Snow drifted by the large window of the locked ward of the hospital. Yiska watched from the black sofa in the main lounge. White and pure. Cold and white. White as her wedding dress she wore to the church, but he never showed, and she stood at the altar alone. She watched the snowflakes drift. His best man brought a message: he couldn't go through with it. She refused to removed the wedding dress. She wore to bed that night and next day and only after someone injected her to sedate her was it removed and she woke up in the locked ward of the hospital. She wrapped the dressing gown about her. The snow seemed to be getting heavier. The hour was unknown to Yiska, but the night nurse was in her small office, writing notes. Other patients still slept in the dormitory; men in theirs and women in theirs. She could hear their snores or moans. Her wrist was bandaged where she'd slit it a few days before with a knife liberated from the meals wagon which came twice a day with meals. The nurse who stitched her up said it was just as well it was vein and not an artery as it would have been worse. The wound was sore. She sensed it still each time she moved her hand. Benny walked from the men's dormitory across by the night nurse's office and into main lounge. He walked to the window and peered out. How long has it been snowing? He asked. It was already coming down when I came in here a little while ago, she replied, looking at him standing in his nightgown and slippers. Peaceful looking, he said. He turned and gazed at her on the sofa. How's your wrist? She looked at her bandaged wrist. Sore. He looked past her. No one else up yet then. No, thank God. He sat down next to her and pulled the nightgown tight about him, tucking in the ends as he had no belt. Cigarette? He asked. She nodded. He took a packet from his nightgown pocket and offered her one and took one himself and lit both with a plastic lighter. She inhaled deeply; he inhaled half heartedly. Where'd you get the lighter? Same place I got the ciggies: one of the day nurses left them behind by error I assume. Why the slit wrist? Mistake. He raised his eye brows. Only a vein, not artery, apparently. Bit like your hanging attempt, she said, eyeing him through the released smoke from her cigarette. Second attempt, he said, exhaling slowly through his nose. How's your *** life? He smiled at her words. Same as yours, I expect. She inhaled and looked at the drifting snow. I ought to have been on my honeymoon a few months ago, she said, not looking at him, but at the snow flakes drifting by. Had the ******* showed that is. Benny looked at her beside him. She smelt of apples. He caught a glimpse of thigh as she moved her leg and moved the dressing gown. Why'd he not show? Because he's a cowardly *******. Did you notice he wasn't keen? He seemed up for it. But wasn't? No I guess not, she said turning her head and staring at Benny. She sighed and inhaled the cigarette smoke. He smoked deeply and sat and gazed at the snow. She put a hand on his leg. You're the only one here to ask apart from the quacks. He turned and gazed at her. He placed a hand over her hand. Two lonely people drifting in an open boat, he said. On a rough sea, she added. They sat and held hands and looked at the snowflakes passing the window as they smoked. Once the cigarettes had been smoked, they stubbed out the butts in an ashtray. She kissed him on his cheek. He kissed her lips. They parted and sat gazing around the lounge of the locked ward. No where to be alone, she said. Unless, she added, looking at him, we go in the shower room. He looked at her. It can't be locked. No room here locks apart from the doors leading into the ward itself. Who cares, she said, no one will be up yet. He looked towards the passage. What about Florence Nightingale? She won't know or care. She seldom leaves her office, Yiska said. Do we dare? He asked. To eat a peach? Or walk tiptoe on the beach? She said.  She took his hand and led him along through the long corridor to the shower room silently as they could walk. He sensed her hand in his. Warm and soft. They reached the door of the shower room and entered in and closed the door after them. It wasn't very big, but it seemed sufficient room if they set down just right. Turn off the light, she said. He pulled the cord. Dimness surrounded them, light from the corridor let in a vague light to part the darkness. She kissed him and held him close. He embraced her to him tightly. She lay down on the floor of the available space and lifted her legs and pulled him down between her. She kissed him before he could say anything. The space was cramped. He felt hemmed in; he couldn't stretch out his legs, but knelt there, hands on her hips. Pressing on her lips. She sensed the sore wrist, an ache in her back, a cramp in a thigh. Can't do it, he said, too ****** cramped. She nodded and said, we might if we're quick. She wanted to kiss again, but her thigh stiffened and she said, I got to get up, cramp. He tried to lift himself in the small space. Treading by her hip and one foot hovering over her visible ******. He placed the foot on the small space of floor and stood up against the shower door. She pulled herself up by dragging herself up by his arm, her wrist sore as hell, blood seeping through the bandage. She rubbed her thigh vigorously with her other hand. Shall I do that for you? He asked, peeping out at the corridor. No, you'll turn me on more and there's no room, she said, rubbing the thigh, biting her lip. Blood seeped more through the bandage and he lifted her arm up. They kissed. They heard a voice coming down the corridor, the pitter-patter of shoes on the floor. They parted and held their breath. The night nurse walked by to the toilets next door and closed the door behind her.  They stood in the dimness kissing, she rubbing her thigh, he holding her ****** wrist right up high.
Shelby Stormes Jan 2013
My wrist is marked with pain-
endless nights of screaming, yelling,
reassuring me of just how much she loved me.
Not a **** bit.
My wrist is marked with doubt-
am I really as worthless as she claimed?
Am I even worth this pitiful life she has given me?
Am human- or something less?
My wrist is marked with countless years
spent in absolute terror of a volatile being with a title
she would never deserve.
My wrist is marked with blood.
The blood that scientists whose job it is to study,
and psychologists who pick up the pieces afterwards,
have all predicted to be shed.
But never was.
My wrist is marked with self-inflicted wounds-
letters- "The choice I never made."
M wrist is marked,
not by blade, but a tattoo gun.
My wrist is marked with pride.
Test Ting Won To Tree
Charles Fleischer

Rifleman decal water is to Tiny basket liners as Strained yo-yo string is to?
Dark wool glowing is to Oldest lost oddity as First genetic engine is to?
Black quail taint is to Nut curdled paint as Hemp biscuit dominoes are to?
Steam traced paper is to Lemon ash vapor as Digital ****** wig is to?
Eccentric brine mimes are to Electric silk slacks as Spark formed lava is to?
Sunchoked black hornets are to as Rescued orphan doves as Retold cat jokes are to?
Hand traced videos are to Braided rubber spines as Opal rain dancers are to?
Halogen anchor gong is to Annoying bread portraits as Soft bracelet lockers are to?
Old troll bios are to Select cherub echoes as Broken matchstick parasols are to?
Dome nine chariots are to Frayed lunar remnants as Fuming honey flasks are to?
Bluing assault operas is to Beading fluted flowers as Magnetic lawn tweezers are to?
Converted flea sponges are to Floating dog murals as Frozen Archie comics are to?
Molded road pads are to Crusty gumdrop thread as Straw ribbed pelicans are to?
Inflatable diamond vowel is to Single gender raffle as Groovy desert coffee is to?
Temporary solution radiation is to Idiotic witness mumble as Motorized marshmallow kit is to?
Panoramic utopian paranoia is to Aggravated **** silhouettes as Unhinged gun sellers are to?
Homesick ghost pajamas is to Virtuous fly fungus as Royal sandpaper gloves are to?
Gangster hayride tickets are to Deer milk Oreos as Turnip fairy maps are to?
Glue gun **** is to Nocturnal cabin mice as Cab fare corn is to?
Speckled fish nickels are to Under water bric-a-brac as Epic snakeskin paisley is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Raunchy snail kimono is to Coiled time dice as Smeared equator malt is to?
Metallic centaur franchise is to Transparent cheese chess as Spotted glacial remnants is to?
Sky fused pong is to Rustic mothers brattle as Granulated canister ointment is to?
Overgrown maze mule is to Mated smugglers hugging as Floating thesaurus exam is to?
Sliding coed sprinkler is to Soapy whitefish rebate as Precious lamb diaper is to?
Mushy acorn luster is to Lilac protein rings as Slapstick wrestler dialect is to?
Freaky plankton bells is to Rolling horse divorce as Morphing morphine lips are to?
Sticky razor sparkle is to Emerald muscle spasm as Glaring cat cipher is to?
Peppy unisex mustache is to Pelican fighter syndrome as Clumping night grumble is to?
Scanning paired pearls are to Ruby rubbed roaches as Satanic sailor flotsam  are to?
Glowing asteroid solder is to Ideal shark data as Failed frail doilies are to?
Numb nuts boredom is to Fantastic icy phantoms as Sporadic silk creations is to?
Crooks crow chow is to Loading spackled bonder as Gargled snowdrop blasters are to?
Outdid myself today is to Outside myself again as Outlived myself controls is to?
Venting shuttlecock upset is to Texting badminton kitten as Settler tested motels are to?
Prepare paired vents is to Prefer paid events as Pretender predicts fiction is to
Crunchy mental fender is to Catching mentor menace as Poorly seasoned lettuce is to?
Outside sidewalk inside is to Seaside outcast input as Sideways landslide victory is to?  
Compile fake password is to Compost world poo as Compose village anthem is to?
Crooked crotch blunder is to Loud crowd thunder as Divine vine finder is to?
Chucks’ wooden truck is to Bucks good luck as Sticky ducks tucked is to?  
Overhaul underway overseas is to Overturned downsized pickup as Underground onramp overloaded is to?
I’ll bite there is to Aisle byte their as Isle bight there is to?
Gnat gnawed wrist is to ***** show beans as See through putty is to?
Flapping floppy guppies are to Buzzing zipped dozers as Muddy ****** strippers are to?
Dark diagonal dialogue is to Diabolical dihedral die as Interesting circadian exposition is to?
Experimental flossing expectations are to Waxed dental traps as Permanent impermanence resolution is to?  
Outran ringside intrigue is to Sidetracked onboard boatload as Loaded firearm topside is to?
Phony ****** phone is to Chewy ego honey as Yogi Mama’s dada is to?
Nimble teardrop squiggle is to Humble cage curtains as Loyal truckstop morals are to?
Torching curled elastic is to Sonic neighbor clamor as Golden droplet integers are to?
Duplex pupil scanners are to Nacreous cloud clocks as Shrouded flute shops are to?
Lawn rocket tendrils are to Finding surreal borders as Sheep monarchs children is to?
Gloating ungloved squires are to Busting double doubters as Pushing woeful doctors are to?
Tricking snowbelt firedogs is to Panmixing blackened haywires as Unclothed shameful leaders are to?
Malicious ranch ritual is to Internal puppet bubble as Ornate underworld masquerade is to?
Rustic debonair Eskimos are to Mindless sassy elves as Gorgeous somber acrobats are to?
Learned earthy pimps are to Fearless sneaky Queens as Somber gentle vagrants are to?
Shocking horse wear is to Glossy sled fluid as Damaged chipmunk tongue is to?
Traditional agony chart is to Damp voodoo motel as Backwoods museum quote is to?
Magical cat cabin is to Dapper porpoise humor as Malicious graveyard foam is to?
Therapeutic gazelle cushion is to Stored alibi equipment as Stunning tempo light is to?
Fantastic rascal art is to Wasted prune dust as Jupiter’s ****** law is to?
Little nut razor is to Gigantic hyena shield as Hourglass pillow fever is to?
Coiled rain clouds are to Dizzy tycoon clowns as Lime eating cowards are to?
Possessive epicurean demonstrators are to Faded eavesdropping giants as Determined swanky drunks are to?
Aquatic preview pocket is to Soggy judicial topiary as Finicky hamster fabric is to?
Enlarged fruit cuff is to Obedient mumbling orchestra as Dark tenant tariff is to?
Recycled flash thermometer is to Botched temptation probe as Pet glider grid is to?
Seriously shy idols are to Costly driving perfumes as Ferryboat chapel wine is to?
Winged jalopy details are to Faithful spectral fathers as Sprinkled mint rainbows are to?
Spelling unneeded words is to Sprouting donut ***** as Blaming mellow mallrats are to?
Eroding loom keepsake is to Magnificent accordion canoe as ***** bongo fumes are to?
Souring violet ink is to Juvenile insult park as Periodic ferret envy is to?
Obedient boyfriend aroma is to Sanitized fat lozenges as Dramatic jailer garb is to?
Mysterious patrol group is to Dynamic maiden discharge as Captured hurricane ratio is to?
Lackadaisical bigot bingo is to Oblong care merchant as Expensive swamp shampoo is to?
Petite orifice worship is to Atomic barge pet as Plucked hair exhibit is to?
Elite officer wallop is to Automatic yard rake as Healing ****** glitter is to?
Needless swan costume is to Giant jungle goat as Organic picnic napkin is to?
Leaky jet steam is to Innovative fascist whistle as Enchanting idol evidence is to?
Plastic mascara seduction is to Greasy thermal ointment as Attractive muskrat crease is to?
Lucky camel pills are to White coral Torah as Eternal stage clutter is to?
Roasted oat **** is to Sloppy *** glue as Nylon table debt is to?
Steep nook catastrophe is to Empty dome damage as Pulsing breeze powder is to?
Empty sack power is to Hitched buck stroke as Red claw warning is to?
Ultra brief slogan is to Yummy lab mutant as Pathetic ball armor is to?
Nauseating fish splatter is to Obstinate ****** twitch as Strained ***** coffee is to?
Mezzanine intermission fossil is to Proven **** apathy as Golden duck shroud is to?
Civil tutors torment is to Thor’s posted theory as Yellow melon rain is to?
Immense olive raft is to Exploding kangaroo buffet as Ethereal witness index is to?  
Marching dark speeders are to Searing scribble fighters as **** tripping sinners are to?
Seeping viral angst is to Aged hermit tea as Murky bowl nibble is to?
Condensed blister guzzle is to Pink dorsal pie as Lavish speckled runt is to?
Needy insult poet is to Sedated acorn trader as Dry honey zoo is to?
Veiled trust flicker is to Deranged poser fashion as Flat sizzle tangent is to?
Purified diet spray is to Nebulous wishing target as Thrilling screen dope is to?
Majestic ribbon astronomy is to Bizarre formation sector as Rebel bell gimmick is to?
Sealed dart whisper is to Green silk draft as Cold vacuum varnish is to?
Clumsy raven power is to Insect island circus as Minted mink drapes are to?
Curved map ruler is to Tiny lethal radio as Blue fused metal is to?
Inverted laser invasion is to Damp sheep dump as Puffy gown smoke is to?
Saucy Channel blazer is to Leather goat filament as Starched locomotive hat is to?
Broken jumper leads are to Disgraced mini exorcists as Designer shamrock caulk is to?
Tweaked poachers smokes are to Assorted sulfur pathways as Collected bedlamp trickle is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Crawling battle worms are to Vibrating metal pedals as Mentholated matrix wax is to?
Missing meshed rafts are to Liquid rock pipes as Crinkled bean bikinis are to?
Tithing **** joggers are to Perforated buck fronds as Leather zither picks are to?
Fearing truthful cowards is to Rambling preachers mumble as Gazebo ambulance gasoline is to?
Shelving elder’s whiskers is to Poaching goalies pesto as Radical tricycle angst is to?
Mucky gunboat polymer is to Primeval maypole flameout as Cathedral greenhouse intercom is to?
Diaphanous safety prize is to Unleashed saucer lion as Dorky blonde ropewalker is to?
Tapered spring meter is to Silver silo mythology as Misguided judges medallions are to?
Alligator x-ray money is to Cherry unicorn water as Coyote cactus toy is to?
Cowardly dorm scrooge is to Atomized pewter script as Flattened spore smoothies are to?
Trash can yodel is to Flashing wired spam as Exploding chocolate pudding is to?
Sonar blasted bushings are to Threading ruined wheels as Forty shifting boxes are to?
Tiny balloon rebellion is to Softened square cleanser as Iconic soul sucker is to?
Harmony night light is to Spanish nitrogen desire as Squirrel cavern iodine is to?

Lazy winter secret is to Slow airport widget as Silly mustard binder is to?
Elephants raising raisins are to Microscopic lamb planet as Purple hay puppets are to?
Caribou venom vaccine is to Electronic lemonade choir as Demonic princess massage is to?
Beet coated bridge is to Fattened needle point as Mylar monkey spine is to?
Ashy ink dust is to Youngest rabbi planet as Orange cartoon geometry is to?
Cold green chalk is to Cobalt ladder farce as ***** river filters are to?
Sublime sheep master is to Sleeping past rapture as Subliminal bliss jelly is to?
Ocean crust slippers are to Twigged germ radar as Popping sharpie scope is to?
Zen wrapped beep is to Oak foamed code as Wicked flashing sizzle is to?
Dew eyed sleigh is to Say I do as Act as me is to?
Humpback on hammock is to Ham hocking hummer as Hunchback with knapsack is to?
Corned flag jelly is to Draped wing chewers as Tripping swan acid is to?
Futuristic Rembrandt chant is to Almond likened meadows as Asian timber blue is to?
Nap in sack is to Flap on Jack as Ducks dig crack is to?
Flowing flavored lava is to Gleaming optic layers as Enhanced goose gibberish is to?      
Flag tied pajamas are to Saline checker choir as Speed reading quotas is to?
Whipped spam spasms are to Misted shaman scripture as Testing pitched bells is to?
Cave aged eggs are to Crowded tiger cages as ****** wagon pegs are to?
Pigeon towed car is to a Man toad art as Wolf whisker wish is to?
Second hand clothes are to Minute hand gestures as Final hour prayer is to?
Slick wicked shavers are to Tricky watch boxes as Sprouting pine tattoos are to?
Waxed stick ravens are to Match stick foxes as Narrowed thermal towers are to?
Ice cave rice is to Laced face lice as Gourmet pet **** is to?
Diamond lane anniversary is to Space age appropriate as Time travel agency is to?
Lime bark violin is to Lemon twig guitar as Lunar sky waffles are to?
Fake rat **** is to Smart cake batter as Rugged fur tax is to?
Tarred raft fluff is to Flaked rafter dust as Lined liquor flask is to?
Flakes will fall is to Take Bills call as Broken maze compass is to?
First faked voter is to Entombed cartoon honey as Smallest aching smurf is to?
Fancy bared ******* are to Flaky fairy treats as Kings amp filter is to?
Bone window folio is to Whittled fake pillow as Little fitted jackets are to?
Nine nuts brittle is to Ate pear pie as Six packed poppers are to?
Incandescent playground pencil is to Elastic hand worm as Perfumed piano ink is to?
Opal shifting anode is to a Windup lion decoy as Pale paisley trolley is to?
Stacked black boxes are to Old packed tracks as a Throwing micron hammers is to?
Apricot bark furnace is to Merry Orchid Choir as an Ivory rinsing funnel is to?  
Narcotic honey nuts are to Slick flag toffees as Silk fig sugar is to?
Orange coin raisins are to Low note candies as Smelling balled roses is to?
Pocket packed monotints are to Tragic ladder hayracks as Ravishing speed traders are to?
Crayon spider resin is to Coral squirrel forceps as Wolf tumbled loaf is to?  
Silver wheat flies are to Width shifting wheels as Golden blister blankets are to?
Really tiny hippopotamus is to Masked fat podiatrist as a Sad sack psychiatrist is to?
Miniature Mesopotamian monuments are to Apple minted elephants as Raising wise ravens is to?
Lathered nymph nacre is to Sonic ion constellations as Concealed iron craft is to?  
Epic gene toy is to Ladies bubble sled as Jagged data bowl is to?
Bugged dagger bag is to Pop sliced meld as Atom bending moonlight to?  
Rural madam’s deed is to Dyed dew dipper as Eight sprayed dukes are to?
Jiffy grand puffer is to Floating altar myth as Vintage dark mirth is to?
Undercover overnight underwear is to Overpaid undertaker overdosing as Overheard understudy freebasing is to?

Black grape crackle is to Red cactus ruffle as Installing padded pets are to?
Snide snobs sniffing are to Sneaky snails snoring as Snared snipes sneezing are to?
Exploring explosive exits is to Explaining expansive exports as Expecting expert exchange is to?
Shrewd logic ledger is to Puppets dropping cupcakes as Placated topaz octopi are to?
Door roof tools are to Cool wool boots as Wood cooked root is to?
Bright fight light is to Night flight fright as Mites bite site is to?
Floor flood fluid is to Wooden door Druid as Nasty **** broom is to?
Accurate police photography is to Intelligent microbe geography as Condensed aerosol biography is to?
Cowardly cowboy grime is to Corpulent corporate crime as Bosnian dwarf necromancer is to?
Jell-O clearing shaker is to Brillo cleaning shiner as Cheerios bowling shields are to?
Mumbled mindless hokey is to Fumbled found money as Humming kinder bunny is to?
Daisy’s clock setter is to Lilly’s boxer toxin as Poodles rose paddle is to?
Watch Bozo Copernicus is to Hire Clarabelle Newton as Find ***-wee Einstein is to?
Amethyst thistle whistles is to Lapis pistol whip as Diamond bomb scar is to?
Dandelion seahorse rescue is to Crabapple dogwood farm as Faux foxglove lover is to?    
Optical poppy stopper is to Polar halo lens as Day-Glo rainbow sticker is to?
Savanna leopard spotted is to Eskimo lassos kisses as Alligator lemonade standard is to?
Bill of Rights is to Will of left as Thrill of night is to?
Baptize floozies quickly is to Useless outsized nozzles as Puzzled wizard wanders is to?        
Chaps wearing chaps are to Chaps contesting contests as Consoling concealed consoles is to?
Quiet squirming squirrels are to Aeon beauty queens as Queasy greasy luaus is to?
Knew new gnu is to Sense scents cents as We’ll wheal wheel is to?
Blazing zingers ringing are to Wheezing singers flinging as Freezing finger number are to?
Lamb tomb jogger is to Dumb numb **** as Thumbed crumb bug is to?

Blue accordion casket is to Jaded scholar ***** as German mushroom circus is to?
President George Flintstone is to Funny Fred Washington as Abraham Jetson’s dog is to?
Google Desmond Tutu is to Kalamazoo Zoo Park as Zodiac actors Guru is to?
Swamp cradled whisperer is to Cherished drawbridge cello as Bludgeoned prankster outlaws are to?
Dukes pink mittens are to Smeared nest carava
Terry Collett Oct 2015
What have you done to your wrist again? The night nurse said, bandaging the wrist, eyes intense, professionalism engaged. The night on the locked ward was quiet; other patients slept, just Yiska in a state, hair in a mess, wrist bleeding from a slit by a knife, once sewn up now bleeding again. It just began to bleed, Yiska said. The nurse gazed at her, sniffed, stared at the eyes of the young girl before her. The nurse continued doing her job on the wrist. Yiska mused on the attempted *** in the small shower room with Benedict a few moments ago. Cramp had got them both. No *** just cramp and the wrist bleeding. They'd kissed; got it going, but no ***. She was hot and bothered. The nurse worked to bandage up after the cleaning up. Yiska wondered if Benny had got back to his bed ok. He had wanted to go with her to find the nurse, but she had said, no go back or she'll think we've been up to no good. We haven't, he said. The shower room had been too small. It was worth the effort in some ways, but now she was frustrated and hot and her nerves were bad again and it showed in her face. What's up? The nurse said, you look anxious about something. Nothing, just depressed as hell, Yiska said. The nurse said nothing, just bandaged the wrist neatly and said, well there you are, cleaned up and packed once more. Thank you, Yiska said. She rubbed her thigh with her other hand; the cramp had gone, but the desire for *** had not. Nearly made it, she mused, walking away from the small surgical room, leaving the nurse to tidy up. Another time, maybe. Where? Not there. She walked to the lounge, dim lit from one single light on the wall above a painting of a forest scene. The window looked out on a dark night and moon and stars. The snow was still there. It looked cold out there. It was warm in the locked ward. She stood and gazed out. Aren't you going back to bed? The nurse said passing behind her. Is that an invitation? Yiska said dully. You are tired, look at you, the nurse said. Too depressed to sleep yet, Yiska said. All right, but don't stay up too long. The nurse walked off along to her night office. Yiska sat in an armchair by the window. Silence. Warmth. Yiska, a voice whispered. She looked around and there was Benny. He sat on the sofa next to the armchair. How'd it go? He asked. Florence Nightingale fixed me up, Yiska said, showing him her wrist. Sorry about that. He said. It was close. Nearly there, she said. He nodded. Cramp does it. ****** the cramp, she said, smiling weakly. She mused on him there in his nightgown, eyes hazel, hair messed up. She looked away across at the snow covered trees over the way lit up by moonlight. What about the ECT Room? She said, turning to face him. What about it? He said. That's got beds in it, she said. Recovery beds, not wide, he replied. No, but wide enough for what we want, she said. Maybe it's locked, he said. Maybe it isn't, she said, her eyes bright, bluey looking. Shall I go try the door? He said. Be careful of Florence Nightingale, Yiska whispered. Benny got up and walked on tiptoe along the passage, dim lit by wall lamps. Yiska listened out for the nurse. After a few minutes Benny returned. The door's unlocked, he said. She smiled. Good, now how to work it, she said. You go back down there and wait for me there, she said. I'll tell the nurse I’m going back to bed and hopefully she'll stay put for the night. Benny nodded and walked back down the passage. Yiska walked to the night office and stood by the doorway. The nurse was at her desk reading reports. I'm off back to bed, Yiska said. Ok, the nurse said, sleep well. I will, Yiska replied. She walked off and out of the nurse's sight and crept along the passage where Benny had gone to the ECT Room. She opened the door and crept in. Benny stood there by the window looking out. Looks odd in the night doesn't it? He said. Yes, kind of creepy, she said, looking around the room where three single recovery beds were. Have to keep the lights off, he said else nursey may see the light under the door. Yiska nodded. Which one? She said. Take your pick, Benny said. She chose the one furtherest  from the door. She heaved herself onto the recovery bed and lifted her night dress up and lay there. He climbed in beside her best he could. It was so narrow. He'd lay there recovering from ETC before, but not beside anyone else. She held onto him and stared at him. He looked at her. She kissed him. He climbed onto her and settled between her thighs. She moved to accommodate him better. Seems odd here, doesn't it? she said quietly. Yes, kind of weird, he replied. They lay there still for a few moments. Want to? She whispered. He kissed her lips. He listened for other sounds. She was still, motionless. She breathed out slowly. What is it? She whispered. Not sure, he said. They both listened. The darkness of the room made it surreal. She was already damp, waiting, sensing him there between her thighs. Footsteps echoed along the passage. Clip-clop, shoes. Clip clop. Benny moved off of her and down beside the bed out of sight. Yiska pulled down her night dress and lay her legs out straight like a corpse. The door opened and a light switched on. The nurse stood there staring. Yiska? What are you doing here? Benny was flat out of sight not breathing or seemingly so. Wanted some place quiet, Yiska said, sitting up, rubbing her eyes. You can't sleep here, the nurse said, this door should have been locked anyway. Yiska got off the recovery bed reluctantly. It's better here, she said, no smells or voices calling out. Not allowed, the nurse said, eyeing Yiska, looking around the room. Back to your own bed, the nurse said, come on I’ll take you there make sure you are there this time. Yiska walked out of the room with the nurse, the nurse took a last look around the room and switched off the light.  Come on you, naughty girl, the nurse said, putting her arm under Yiska's arm, and tapping her bottom, and walked off down the passage. Benny waited a few minutes, then opened the door and closed it gently behind him and walked off towards the toilets at the end of the passage. Close thing, he mused, nearly got caught, yet in some ways it seemed exciting, them at it when nursey opened the door. He peed in the white enamel toilet bowl. Thought of Yiska, kissed his shoulder, pretending it was her. Yiska sat on her bed and gazed at the nurse. Sleep, the nurse said, no more mischief; I'll go lock that door, make sure you don't go in there again. The nurse walked off. Yiska sighed. She wondered if Benny got out the room ok. Hope he doesn't get locked in. she lay down frustrated. Hot for it. No place to go. She let her fingers play. Outside the falling down of more snow.
Ashley Chapman Jul 2018
Pressesd tenderly,
your carnal flower opens,
its butterfly released,
hovers like a hummingbird
drinking from the bill.

Oh, I too would steal you away
and cage you happily,
to get under your black-fringed skirt; 
to see that pretty dress,
fly off once more,
and see you bare;
burned now forever in my banks,
a first sight,
of dark curls!

As I think of it,
my desire stirs,
but of us
I have already masturbated twice:
hips pinned,
sliding over our wet perspiring bellies,
in our jungle heat:
'cause in the firmament of our embrace
- it's hot -
where glued we **** into each other,
stoking flames,
until sleep,
when we disappear from each other.
My mind crowds,
with niggling neurotic inanities;
yours with manic dreams where bed-wetting criminals in cages beg to be freed,
before better spaces overtake.

When I awake,
I am lying next to you,  
Gwen over the horizon of your fertile valley,
a mountain,
white and reposed.
murmuring desire for me.
I can't wait to answer.

It is late,
late morning,
and we are all half asleep.
You have your back to me,
as we lie,
rubbing feet,
stroking hands,
(the oiled bulb at the end of a finger),
your fine shoulders,
(that delicate but persistent bone in your wrist that stretches with pointed elegance);
as quietly inside,  
(warmly enveloped),
my couched *****,  
rocks us:
each diffusing into the other
like the early morning brew.

Lust and love,
which for a good while on edge had been:
the weeks,
faint promises from afar;
sometimes a little closer,
our shadows in daylight cross,
as one over the other storms;
and once (or twice),
a sleeve brushes,
even better,
hair crackles,
as a speaking lip touches lobe,  
and for a moment,
taking in the other's scent,
a hint sublimely overpowers.

And these,
dearest of fancies,
are just some,
with which to penetrate your mind,
as you have mine:
the energy of my yielding tenderness,
inviting you to complete me,
as I spread for you with desire.

Much later,
those daring looks you have,
the way you walk our stage:
your beautiful elongated face,
those quick-fire arousing eyes,
your sultry self-assuredness,
your pre-possessing self.

I could talk about your couple,
of generosity,
reaching up,
beyond mere comprehension:
of the fact that I like Gwen
(his love gift for you, me);
but actually,
in truth,
I prefer to take this moment to make love to you;
to say how wrapped I am,
folded in your limbs,
in our mingling sweat;
how with your joy,
you touch my desires,
into yours,
so they flow,
run rather:
honeysuckle from your blessed nymphae.

You love my smell,
you say,
and I dream of gathering you in pheromones,
of drugging you,
of intoxicating you,
so once again you will find me,
take me,
have me.
Entice you once more like a creature from its shell:
where I can ravish you,
all of you,
lay naked to me,
your very bones;
those fine elbows,
those knees I would like to ******* over;
wash their smooth surfaces in my come:
from these cliff heights,
rain ***** on the rocks below.

To once more cast aside your socks and get at your toes,
to pour oil on 'em,
to rub and squeeze' em,
while in the moist cavern of your insides,
we ****,
half washed over by our own tide.
And as we do,
I quail,
speaking sweet nothings of appreciation;
from full lips,
your sounds return,
the hypnotic rhythm of your breath:
I engorge and in our labyrinth,
- the maiden and the bull -
we consume ourselves.

Sweet Lentiform,
you did it,
you got me rolling in flesh,
lusting after your intimate parts,
wanting you in bed as I know you must have me:
pulling me on you,
kissing and biting;
my arousal in your palm,
as you run a curved finger over my nethers.

lying prone,
lying ******,
never unconsumed,
please us,
with more;
so rarely,
unfucked even for a pause,
nothing doing more than sleeping and carousing;
our sustenance barely enough to keep us at it,
an occasional comic thrown in.
throw the ******* comic at me,
will you?
Beat my ******* flesh with it if you like.
Anything to see you standing in all your pearly naked glory!

And if you can,
keep texting me,
so I can hang on your every word like a ******* puppy!
skin tight,
gorgeously wild,
woman ...
Now pull me by my **** into your **** -
where I love it best.
sabrina paesler May 2015
I’ve tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
“you can’t wear red lipstick”
made me believe
I never wanted to in the first place.

for every time instead
I’ve stained my lips with cherries
learning how to tie the stems
so I can slip forget-me-knots
to the back of your throat—
do you feel my restriction now?

the razors that fly off my tongue
perk thorns on my skin,
another down stroke on my wrist
will teach me that
you were right,
shyness is a virtue.

no need to speak,
go spend one hundred dollars
and some percent for tax
to cover up,
even though I’m sure your mother told you
that cotton stains.

so make it black.
get your hair stuck
in the zipper of that sundress
and pray as you pull it out
that it will lose its pigmentation
in the process
mark a down stroke
for killing two flowers
for one bouquet.

hold it
close your eyes and throw it back,
I know we shouldn’t be wearing white anyway
but tradition can take a lot out of you
like what you really think—
don’t say **** in public.

instead drag your first impressions
all the way to the altar
and dress in your Sunday best
a flower on your lapel
clear on your lips
a stroke for the neat decline
of the son

I tattooed a line across
the veins of my wrist
and marked a down stroke
for every time
my image
was my fault.
Imperfect Desire Mar 2015
Am I the only one that has their demons feasting upon their souls?
They say it is easy to tie a noose around your mind,
To overcome the urges and temptations of ending your life with a suicide
They don't know the true pain and torment that is going on in my head
An epic battle that leaves me with restless nights in bed
"End your life already" they say, as they prey on me during my weakest hours
Sometimes I give into the voices, carrying the sharp blade to my wrist
Crying as I struggle to mutter three powerful words that keeps me going
Choking on my sobs, my lungs deflate with a desire to say that God loves me
I try to convince myself that God is trying to test my faith
And to just wait, wait and wait
Then my Demons will eventually go AWAY.....

~Imperfect Desire **
Ember Evanescent Nov 2014
Once again I wore my spiked choker and wristband today
I haven't worn them in a while
Because everyone thinks I'm depressed when I wear them
But I realized I don't care what people think of me
I'm not hollow like I was the last time I wore this
So that is all that really matters
This is my little symbol of rebellion
Against hatred
To say to those who prejudge me and hate me:
F!ck you
I'll do whatever the hell I feel like
Your approval is not needed
I'm happy dressed this way
That's all that matters
I encourage everyone to have a little bit
Of that "F!ck You Attitude" today
Just little symbols of rebellion
Draw a black X on your wrist today
In black ink
If you support
Being yourself regardless what people think
And through this little ink symbol
Though apart in miles
We will be united in spirit
Be YOU :)
I'm drawing the black X on my wrist right now. Comment if you are going to do it too. So we know someone else out there supports rebelling against hatred. ;)
Morgan Mercury Oct 2014
I never thought I would fall for you twice,
but here I am writing this poem.
I'm just a dandelion lost in this greenhouse
surrounded by these blooming beauties.
But hoping, hopefully
you would make a wish out of me.
You've got this look that makes me crave adventure.
You've got mountains in your eyes
and the northern wind in your soul.
I can't remember the last thing you said to me
and that's okay.
We never talked much thanks to my anxiety.
I'm not too far but my words have failed me so many moons
how am I suppose to talk to you?
You've got your future gripped tight by the wrist
and my hands are lost in all this space.
Maybe sometime in the years to come, I'll discover your footprints
and remember my high school crush all over again.
I'll stop and think if you're out in California making coffee for people,
like I overheard you say you wanted to do in math class that one time,
or strumming a guitar solo on stage somewhere in the city.
I just hope wherever you find yourself in time to come you're happy and smiling brighter than the stars.
I know not much will happen in these last eight months we have together,
but I want to thank you for the day you introduced yourself to me because you knew no one else in the class.
I know I'm just a dandelion in this great big greenhouse,
but I'm just really happy that you noticed me.
Suicide Girl Oct 2017
Red as the blood gushing from her wrist.
Purple from the bruises on her body as the beating
Green is her eyes yet she doesn't want to see
Yellow is her body from the **** her father impacted her
She wishes that she had a normal life
Her body aches for love, as when her father whispers "I love you babe" she cries
Her mother calls her fat and ugly while she beats her
She slits her wrists while she cries
Shes now dead as she was hanging by a thread
Tbh something I made up in art randomly
Nathan Box Feb 2015
Change has two faces.
At times, it seems glacial.
At others, it sweeps over us at a rapid face.
But change comes for us all.

Love has two faces.
It can seem just out of reach.
Or it makes itself known when we least expect it.
Love has a way of finding us all.

Pain has two faces.
Often, unbearable.
Then, something to be triumphed.
Pain is often born out of love and it has a way of changing us all.

And with wrist close and overlapped, we march on.
Despite the changes and pain.
Love has us marching on.
It is our way of seeing this life through.
Kacie Lynn Dec 2014
She grabs my wrist and I pull away
She grabs my wrist and I pull away
She grabs my wrist and I pull away
I continuously run from being chained away.
My mind is full and about to explode
I'm not quite sure I can take the load
On my shoulders that I myself placed there.
I pace to and fro wondering why I do not care.
She grabs my wrist and I pull away
I continuously run from being chained away
If I were told how to move my lips
If I were told how to move my body
I could not live for I would be a chained puppet.
It is not life if you are not living.
I own all Copy Rights! steal words from your own tongue!
Iska Feb 2018
The false crisendo of your words
Grate against my every nerves.
Wandering round
With ****** feet
How many expectations
Have I failed to meet?

What more do you want
Of my sorry soul
When I cannot bring
My self to breath anymore?

So I watch your hopes
all tumbling down
It feels quite cold
Down here in the ground.
I'm sorry that I wasn't enough
I tried to be what you asked of me
But I didnt think it'd be So tough.

My weary bones creak and ache,
My wrist all burned and ******,
Can you not be quite just once for my sake?

I understand the gravity.
I know Im failing at life,
But you dig right in,
spreading the cavity,
How to ignore the strife?

Whispered arguments bleed through the walls
How much longer until we fall?
Through the floor straight down to hell
All because I could not tell.

Should I weep in pain,
And slave away,
To satisfy you're whimsical ways?
Should I sell my soul,
And bite my tongue,
Just to keep the wallet full?
But "your so young,
You've no excuse,
So bend your back,
Put those hands to use."

Welcome to life.
Put away your pain,
No time for strife,
No time for play,
Just nod you head,
Exit the stage,
And get a job,
So you'll be payed.

I'd sooner live a poor church mouse,
Then lose myself in persute of a house.
But no, I'll smile my candy grin,
And talk with sugar sweet.
Hide the weight of the pain,
So your expectations, I'll meet.
Some times it's just not enough.
Tyler Loeslein Nov 2012
You see the scars,
pale lines like tally marks
covering the math quiz
found on the delicate skin,
that when found
on the inside of your wrist,
looks like innocence.

It makes you wonder,
what monsters live
under this person’s bed
waiting until they sleep,
to sneak into their heads
and make them destroy
their innocence,
that’s hidden on their wrist;
that makes them destroy
the beauty found
in unmarred skin.

Regardless of the monster
and it’s name or origin,
you’re willing to don the armor
and become a knight,
so that you can slay the beast
in honor of lost innocence
and for a future
free of the pain
that accompanies self mutilation.

You’re a hero
in pursuit of  beauty
found in life
before it’s ruined on wrists;
but you also fight for the beauty
that is found in scars
and the stories they tell
after they heal,
as long as no new wounds
cover them
and smother their voice.

Although you’re ready
with a sword in hand
and protective plates
covering your unmarked body
you don’t really know
******* this monster
or how to save this person,
a stranger that slipped
when they let you see the scars,
unaware of the fire they sparked
within your mind
that made you want to reach out,
and if you could,
touch those scars
and tell them,
that even though
the scars came from ugly feelings
you still saw that person’s beauty.

You don’t know how to handle,
their violent reaction
to your seemingly kind words,
but don’t take it to heart,
I know you’re just trying to help,
but they don’t understand
that those words can be said
with real sincerity.

It’s not your fault,
that they only hear
insults regardless of what you say;
when you say beautiful
they can’t help but hear ugly,
and when you offer help,
they can’t stop from feeling
as though they’ve been attacked,
because although you want to help,
you can’t.
Please, anyone that reads this, leave me feedback. Consider this a very rough draft that I intend to revise, but right now I'm stuck. I'll even take any title options. I don't know, I had an idea and I tried going with it...
Chikadey Grace Oct 2014
slit of the wrist
pop of the pills
once you do it life doesn't go back
sip of the whiskey
finger on the trigger
you're dead
are you happy now
now that its over
you sure aren't forgotten
put the knife down
put the pills in the bottle
spit the whiskey out
and release the trigger
the pain is real
I know that
but the pain for everyone else will get worst
if you say good bye to this world
so  keep your head up darling
there's no need to fear
if anything bad happens
I'll be right here
stay strong
be safe my dear
it'll all be okay
no need to shed a tear
so don't pull the trigger
or pop those pills
don't guzzle that whiskey
and don't slit your wrist
shryl May 2014
i keep your hold on my wrist
because it makes me feel, things i have never felt

i keep your hold on my wrist
because it lets me know, i am here

i keep your hold on my wrist
because i learned, that love can be cruel

i keep your hold on my wrist
because although it hurts, i know i’m alive

i keep your hold on my wrist
because it reminds me, i have felt happiness

i keep your hold on my wrist…
Seema Nov 2017

Inside my head
Millions of threads
Collide in a mess

Inside my heart
In various parts
Stuck, are broken pieces of your art
Such possessivness you have
To no one you abide nor you serve
On my left wrist and palm
Are scars by your harm
On my right wrist and palm
You wrote with calm
Your name with a knife point
So much pain at my wrist joint
That you held so tight
My teary eyes closing in bright
You enjoying with delight
The blood on my wrist slowly flows
While carving slicing like claws
You seem fine not knowing I am dying
Left me for a while to rest
Your tattoo came out the best
In few hours you came back
To see the blood on my wrist and neck
You cried out calling my name
You didn't realise, what a shame!
You cut my wrist like I was a pest
In a dark corner, you left my body to rest...

Fictional write.
THE MOUTH of this man is a gaunt strong mouth.
The head of this man is a gaunt strong head.

The jaws of this man are bone of the Rocky Mountains, the Appalachians.
The eyes of this man are chlorine of two sobbing oceans,
Foam, salt, green, wind, the changing unknown.
The neck of this man is pith of buffalo prairie, old longing and new beckoning of corn belt or cotton belt,
Either a proud Sequoia trunk of the wilderness
Or huddling lumber of a sawmill waiting to be a roof.

Brother mystery to man and mob mystery,
Brother cryptic to lifted cryptic hands,
He is night and abyss, he is white sky of sun, he is the head of the people.
The heart of him the red drops of the people,
The wish of him the steady gray-eagle crag-hunting flights of the people.

Humble dust of a wheel-worn road,
Slashed sod under the iron-shining plow,
These of service in him, these and many cities, many borders, many wrangles between Alaska and the Isthmus, between the Isthmus and the Horn, and east and west of Omaha, and east and west of Paris, Berlin, Petrograd.
The blood in his right wrist and the blood in his left wrist run with the right wrist wisdom of the many and the left wrist wisdom of the many.
It is the many he knows, the gaunt strong hunger of the many.
frankie crognale Dec 2013
she was in love.
she was in love with a boy.
she was in love with a boy who didn’t love her back.
she was a beautiful girl when she was sixteen.  she was the most insecure girl you’d ever meet, but you’d never know because her award winning smile hid all of the insecurities. black curly hair, olive skin, beautiful big brown eyes, cherry lips, and naturally aligned perfect teeth.  she knew she was beautiful deep down, although she hated to admit it, because of an unfortunate series of events that occurred in the past.  she was the happiest girl you could ever meet, or at least that’s how she came across.  she acted as though nothing was wrong, when in reality, a lot was wrong.  she knew her peers thought of her as a person who tried too hard to be different, but that’s who she was.  she was different, and she knew it.  
he was a breathtaking boy when he was 16.  he was just as insecure as she was, but you'd find it hard to believe, since he was so picturesque. blonde hair, pale skin, pacific ocean eyes, bright pink lips, and very white teeth.  he didn’t know he was breathtaking, because of an unfortunate series of events that occurred in the past.  he always thought of himself as a person without a place, even though he believed everyone had a place in the world, he just hadn’t found his yet.  he bottled things up inside until they sunk low enough to go out of view, until he forgot about them.  he knew he had a place, he just didn’t know where.  he was different, too.  just as different from everyone else as the girl was.
she told him everything.  more than she told her other friends. more than she told her best friend of fourteen years. she didn’t know it at first, but she would fall hard for him, harder than when she fell off her longboard the first time.  just like that first fall, it would hurt.  it would make her bleed, and it would transform her.  from it, she would become a better person, and definitely a more cautious one.  she wasn’t aware of it yet, but he would change her in two ways.  for the better, and for the worse.
the background knowledge of this tale isn’t important.  all that needs to be known is how she has now fallen in love with him, harder than she’s ever fallen for someone.  however, he’s since moved away.  how far, you ask?  3,000 miles across the ocean.  her love for him has grown dramatically since this, and she’s told him, but he doesn’t feel the same way.  he’s said it straight to her face, on multiple occasions.  to directly quote it, “the feeling is there, but it just isn’t prominent.”  naturally, this kills her inside. the hardest thing to endure is watching the one you love, love someone else. in fact, this makes her want to curl up in her comforter and cry, and hopefully never come out.  she loved this boy, and she loved him completely unconditionally.  no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t get him to see her that way.  the only time he ever takes any interest in her is when she’s undressed. she would use her body for love, and he used love for her body. she was blinded, and she didn’t want to see him using her, so she refused to believe it.  she’s confronted him about it, and he’s said he isn’t using her, so she was convinced he wasn't, mostly because she could never make herself believe he was lying to her.  
he knew everything about her.  he knew her full name, which not a lot of people did.  he knew about her past; the past that involved a small wrist and a large blade.  he knew about her future; the future that involved a small apartment in new york and a job at vogue. he knew about the husband, or wife, she wanted, since she was bisexual.  only he knew that. he knew how much she loved him, as well. he was well aware of that, but obviously he didn't know how much it would **** her inside to know he didn't think the same of her. he didn't think it through. if he did, he would have saved her a lot of pain.
she was sitting in her bedroom one day. she was thinking mostly about him. she kept playing the sweet things he'd said to her in the past back in her mind, and suddenly she found herself smiling and feeling warm inside. she loved him. she loved him more than anyone she'd ever loved before. just as she was thinking, he messaged her on facebook. her heart fluttered, she couldn't wait to see what he said.
"i have to talk to you" his tone was stern, which somewhat scared her, since he was never sincere like this.
"okay sure, what's up, deary?" she always called him deary, it was the most natural response for her.  she was trying to lighten the mood a bit, as well.
"as you know since i've moved here, my feelings for you have somewhat gone away. and with that being said, i've found somebody."
she could've sworn she heard her heart fall down to her feet and break into one million tiny pieces.
"you have a girlfriend now?"
she logged off of facebook without answering his message, and went to the corner of her room where a tiny piece of her carpet was cut into a square and ripped off the floor so it could be lifted up. she lifted the piece of carpet up to reveal a bag and a blade. a tiny plastic bag, and a tiny metal blade. a tiny plastic bag that had an assortment of different pills in it, and a tiny metal blade with dried blood tracing the edges of it from her past. the pills were things such as ibuprofen or acetometaphine, and the blade was a replacement blade from her dad's razor, since his was sharper than hers.
her past wasn't particularly something she liked to remember. she had once been suicidal. she had cut herself. she had intentionally burned herself. she had snapped a hair tie against her wrist during school. she's tried ending her life with those same pills. she kept them there if she needed them.
as of right now, she needed them more than ever.
she opened the bag, got two bottles of water, and began to swallow the pills. one by one.  as she swallowed them, she found herself taking the sharp piece of metal to her wrist.  she caressed it gently before dragging it across the noticeable scars, going deeper and deeper with each ****.
after about thirty five pills and twelve lacerations, she began to get terrible stomach pain, and her blood wasn’t clotting any longer.  she strayed away from her wrist and moved down to her hips, her v-line, and upper thighs. she could feel her demise coming, but she wanted it right then.  she didn't cry as she threw the pills down, her heart was too heavy, her body too frail, that she couldn't produce the tears, even though she wanted to.
twenty more pills.
three more cuts.
five more pills.
two more cuts.
one more pill.
and just like that, she was gone.
about an hour or so later, her mother knocked on her door. she made sure to leave the door unlocked so her mother wouldn't find her and be angry. her mother hated when she locked her door. she walked in, and once she saw her daughter laying on the floor near the piece of torn up carpet, she collapsed to her knees over her top of her. she noticed a small paper laying next to her body. she unfolded it. on it was this:
"you know, it’s funny. now everyone will care. now he’ll love me. if you all had felt this way when i was alive, i wouldn’t be dead."
it’s almost like she knew her death would be one of the biggest news highlights of the year in her small town.  it’s almost like she knew photos of her would be everywhere.  it’s almost like she knew her suicide note was going to become the most viral thing to hit the nation in four years.
her mother had no idea what that meant. she couldn't think anyway, for her teenage daughter had just mutilated her insides with common household drugs.
with the little energy she had left in her body, she stumbled downstairs to where the telephone was. she dialed her husband's work number, and was completely hysteric when he answered the phone. he told her to calm down, so she tried to. when she finally stopped crying long enough to get words out, she told him.  he said he was about to leave his office. he didn't care about anything else in the day, he just had to get home. he had to get home to see his little girl for the last time.
her mother told her friends, and the entire town was a complete wreck. memorials were hung everywhere. pictures of her death note were posted in newspapers and on street corners. a segment was even on the news about her. she had never felt loved in her life, but when she died, everyone turned into her friend. girls who called her fat and ugly in middle school said she was beautiful.  boys that called her obnoxious and annoying said she was fun to be around.  teachers who told her she would never get into college and didn’t have a future said she had her entire life ahead of her.  just as her suicide note said, if they had all acted this way when she was still here, she wouldn’t have left.
the boy messaged her one day, wanting to tell her something again. when she didn't answer, he sent her another message. he obviously hadn't looked at his facebook news feed in a few days, considering everyone's status was about her, and there were pictures of her everywhere; pictures of her and her friends, her and her beloved cats, or her alone.  looking at the pictures was painful for everyone, since her beautiful smile was only lived on in the pictures now.  her eyes sparkled in the photos, but not as much as they did in real life.  now, the photos were all that was left.
he sent her another message, saying this:
"well if you aren't going to answer me then i guess i'll just tell you. i broke up with my girlfriend already. i realized a few things when i was with her. she isn't you. i love you, i really do. i hope you can forgive me and i hope we'll talk soon.  bye babe."
he only called her babe when he felt closest to her.  some days, where they would flirt a lot, they would both feel warm and fuzzy inside and completely loved.  neither ever admitted it, but they both knew exactly how the other felt.  among the pet names and multiple kissy faces, they had great conversations.  they were so open around each other, neither of them had ever been like that with anyone else.  she knew she was made for him, although he didn’t realize it until after it was too late.
after he sent it, he decided to check his news feed. he saw the pictures and status messages. he couldn't believe it. he didn't know how much he hurt her. he killed her inside so much that she actually killed herself. he was the one that always made her feel better when she was feeling down. he's the one that got her to stop hurting herself. she told him once that she was going to stop for herself, when subliminally she stopped for him, because she knew he didn't like it. she didn't think he could ever love her with the cuts up and down her arms, so she stopped making them. she was alive because of him, but now, she was dead because of him.  he gave her a reason to want to live, and a reason to want to die.
life was still odd for him after her passing. he'd think about her often. she would come to him in dreams. he’d listen to her favorite song, which was one of his favorite songs as well, called “i wanna be yours” by the arctic monkeys.  he introduced her to the arctic monkeys, actually.  he never realized how much the lyrics meant to her, the more he listened to them he recognized the relevance of them.  he's sworn he’s seen her on street corners in his city. he knew it couldn't be, but every time he thought he saw her, tears would well up in his eyes and he'd have to turn around and go home. he didn't speak to anyone, nor did he tell anyone about her, especially not what he felt for her. everyone would think it was out of pity, pity for her and her death. he regretted making her feel worthless when he told her he didn't love her, because he did, and they both knew that.  she always knew deep down there was more feeling to it than he said, but she couldn't get past him saying those things. and that's why she killed herself.
years passed. he never found anyone, and she decayed in the beautiful tiffany blue dress she wears for eternity. it would've been her 25th birthday when he first went to see her at her final resting place. there was a photo of her on her stone, one of the last pictures ever taken of her. his breath was taken away by her beauty, she had the same warm smile he remembered when he saw her the last time. her eyes bright with playfulness, and her cheeks round and rosy. he could still hear her laugh. it was almost contagious. he was in love with her all over again, and she wasn't there to tell.
although, she was there. she heard every thought inside her head and saw every emotion he was feeling. she regretted her decision. she hated herself for not being patient and not going with her instinct. now, they could never be together. they were made for each other, and they both knew it.
he flung himself onto her burial site, weak at the knees and tears down his face. he missed her just as much as she missed him. he regretted never kissing her when he had the chance. he wanted to take back every time he ever told her he didn't love her. she took her life because of those things, and he was too pessimistic with the thought of "i'll never see her again" stuck in his head that he couldn't hear what his heart was saying.
he never married. he continued to visit her, almost every day. he couldn't stand to not see her, even if she wasn't there. she visited him every night as well, just to watch him sleep. she still thought he was the most breathtaking boy she'd ever seen. and she was just as beautiful as she was before. just as beautiful, and just as breathtaking. just like when they were 16.
Terry Collett Mar 2014
I found your old
wrist watch
amongst your things;
strap worn, unstitched,

the face of the watch
stopped at a given time,
metal touched with grime.
Don't know when

you wore it last,
but I guess your being
still tingles along the vibes,
despite the years gone by.

I wonder if you
chopped up your day
by it, wonder what hours
you set aside for play,

what for work or sleep?
You're dead now, so that
information will have to keep,
the hours spent, the moments

slipped by in the blink
of a human eye, the ticking
watch ticking off
the time allotted you,

your span set out,
the final year
mapped out maybe,
for none to know or see.

I hold your watch,
allow the sense of you
to come through
the metal workings,

silver cast, leather strap;
the sense of you
pulsing as I wear it
briefly on my wrist;  

the back of the watch
and my skin touching
as if kissed. I will put
the wrist watch away,

in some drawer, for
another, some day,
but it is you, my son,
that is wanted, that’s missed.
FOR OLE 1984-2014.
Jade M Matelski Dec 2013
She thinks of nobody but herself
But still her bedrooms filled with nails she falls
And always seems to land on her wrist
Gashes a centimeter wide she needs stitches she needs to call an ambulance
She'll bleed out! God ****** she'll bleed out!

But she's not ready to die yet so she stitches herself back up
Hoping she hasn't drained too much
Because she loves the sting the reason she lives is for the sting
And the DRUGS
PILLS: Oxy, Percocet, Vicodin, Demerol
She sniffs them she snorts them she even ******* chews them!
She'll do anything as long as she can float

She won't admit it but she loves life she loves the drugs
And pain and abuse that come with life
She loves the pain, oh *******, she loves the pain
So she stitches herself back up she doesn't want to die
Repeat repeat she does it again
Dripping on the kitchen tile but this time is different

This time she's forgotten about the drugs and the pain
She's focused on her wrist and her wrist and her wrist and her blade
Too deep, she's gone too deep again
But she doesn't care  she's not stitching herself back up
She's ready to die with not enough drugs and
Too much pain
She's ready to leave this world behind
Ready to leave the pills

Don't leave me don't leave me
I love you I love you
Grab the needle, please get the thread
Please just stitch yourself back up stitch yourself back up
Ally Ann Jun 2018
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
I wanted to say,
lock yourself in a room,
scream until you have
a poem and no voice.
Open your veins and bleed
until you know that your bones
are pure words and sorrow.
Act as if you slit your own throat
and all you can bleed
are your own regrets
and all of the darkness
you boxed up for inspiration.
Write your mom a letter,
tell her you're leaving
and you won't be back for awhile
Because being a writer is traveling
through all seven layers of Hell
and denying anything is wrong.
Forget loving yourself
when all you have is a pen and paper
fused to your wrist
and Jesus is tapping at your skull
saying turn back now.
Warn the neighbors that if they smell burning
It's just your soul
clawing at the front door trying to get in.
Learn how to be alone.
Learn how to lose everything you have
in order to feel release,
learn how to only feel deceased
from now on.
A friend asked me
how to be a writer.
All I said was
Aaron LaLux May 2018
life is such a trip,
one minute you’re up next minute you’re down,
one second you’re happy the next you want to slash your wrist,

almost slashed my wrist today,
naked wrapped in a towel,
on the shower floor,
ready to let go,

used to be a Cutter anyways,
used to be a punk in the gutters anyways,
used to think about suicide and still do,
so even though I’ve got more money now what’s really changed?

is still such an overpowering emotion,
which is how I found myself in a horizontal fetal position,
on the bathroom floor ready to cut myself open,

just wanted to clean out the pain,
so that maybe I could start again,
a new life with a chance to make everything right,
and have someone that falls in love instead of falling apart again,

and it was all over a girl,
isn’t almost always,
she left me with no explanation,
my last image of her was in my hallway,

going down the stairs,
with a bag that’s too heavy to carry,
and I thought about that bag and her travels,
and how I thought she might of been the one I married,

but apparently I wasn’t perfect enough for here,
she wanted a Catholic Vegan and I am neither,
I told her that she should not restrict her love with discriminations,
because even though I’m not religious I am still a True Believer,

and I’d just wanted some space I didn’t want to forever leave her,

but she took it the wrong way and made her escape,
and as she left out that door I knew I’d never again see her,

and there I was,
with all the pain from my past,
triggered in an instant by a girl I barely knew,
in a place where everything just felt bad,

and I was alone with my tortured self,
and everything from my tortured past,
and everything I saw reminded me of her,
and I wanted to just escape so fast,

so I grabbed a knife,
and headed to the bathroom,
I laid myself in the shower over the drain,
and assumed the position,

and just as the tip of the blade kissed my wrist,
and the first drop of blood escaped,
my phone rang in the other room,
and I wondered if I’d been saved,

my best friend was calling me,
he must be telepathic,
because the first thing he said to me was,
“Are you okay please don’t do anything drastic.”,

he made me promise,
that I would see him tomorrow,
and wouldn’t let me get off the phone,
until I promised him that vow,

see I never break a promise,
even if I do break hearts,
so when he made me make that promise,
we both knew that today would not be the day for me to depart,

so instead of slashing my wrist,
I went outside to bask in bliss,
to Venice beach I ran,
because the beach is just a block from where I live,

I ran until I was exhausted,
and ended up at the shoreline,
where I noticed a mystical gypsy girl,
meditating in the sunshine,

“Excuse me,
can I ask you for some advice?
What would you do if the woman you loved left you,
and you were considering ending your life?”,

she explained,
everything was only temporary,
and sometimes the pain,
is truly necessary,
that we have to have our hour broken,
to let,
the light in and let our love deepen,

She then said she had something for me,
reached into her back and brought out a black tourmaline,
she gave it to me and said when she was on Suicide Watch,
a shaman visited her in the hospital and brought her black tourmaline,

she told me to where it,
listen to my heart and I’d get better,
I put the tourmaline on with newfound purpose,
and with strength and guidance I thanked her for the gesture,

I then left that mystical gypsy women,
there in the setting sun,
then set off back into the world,
to finish things I’d left undone,

on the way back,
I met a group of people kinda like myself,
they asked me what I was doing,
I replied “Trying not to **** myself.”,

they invited me to their place,
and here where the story takes another twist,
because there I met a girl,
who also had a story of desperation and wrists,

and that girl,
she was everything I’d ever wanted in a woman,
she was intelligent and beautiful,
she was hurt and a healer she was fixed up and broken,

and in that instant I saw how divine this all is,
and in an instant I realized the magic of this Life we live,
so I invited her back to my place,
and she instantly said yes,

life’s such a trip,
I mean it’s really something to think about,
like how every event in your entire life,
led you to this moment you’re living right now,

and any person you’ve ever met,
had to have their own exact experiences,
to lead them to find you,
and for both of you to be together in something that seems instantaneous,

and so there we were,
and we went back to my place and made love,
and everything felt so automatic and natural,
because with true love that’s just what is up,

she came and I came,
and we both knew how long it had been,
so after we made love,
we just laid there in our moment of bliss,

in that bubble we created,
that was only ours to have,
away from everything else,
where we could explore and laugh,

because we’ve all been through a lot,
but with love we will heal,
so there is no time for small talk,
only want you if you’re real,

and speaking of real,
to keep it real I’ve got to shout out my Ex,
because if she hadn’t left right when she did,
well then I wouldn’t have met my Next and had ***,

and I’m so glad she did,
and I’m so glad you did,
and I’m so glad I did,
and I’m so glad we did what we did,

and now I’m in the kitchen naked cutting asparagus,
with the same knife I almost used to cut my wrist,
see life is a beautifully horrible tormenting joyful state of painful bliss,
as yes what an interestingly twisted experience this life we live is,

and I’m going to get back to my bliss,
because I want to take a rest,
but before I go,
here’s a few words for me Ex,

“Dear Love,
I’m glad you left me because I found a better you,
she’s like you except new and improved,
because she’s vegan too but she’s only 22,
and she loves me unconditionally,
and here’s the proof,
if we have problems we work it out,
because that’s what grown people do,
we don’t runaway,
we stand and communicate,
and I know you understand,
because I know you relate,
but your love was not enough,
and ultimately you didn’t care,
so you had to go to make room for someone that actually loves me,
well okay then goodbye take off and take care,
I will always love you,
always have and always will,
even though you’re not ready for grown love,
because even at almost 30 you’re still just a little girl,
so good luck and goodbye,
I wish you well,
maybe see you again but I doubt it,
I guess time will tell…”,

and to you dear reader,
and to your depression,
don’t deny your depression go through it,
because it leads to progression,

and progression leads to transition,

and you never know what the next moment will bring,
and you’ll never know if you do the irreversible,
so even in your darkest moments of despair,
remember to stay hopeful so,

you can look back and say,
you were stronger than Death,
you lived to love another day,
and well this is your story too so you know the rest…

∆ LaLux ∆
Jim Davis Apr 2017
In the last
three decades,
after we became one,
I touched
amazingly beautiful things,
horribly ugly things,  
unbelievably wondrous things

I touched nature's majesty;
hued walls of the Grand Canyon,              
crusty bark of the
Redwoods and Sequoias,
live corals of the
Great Barrier Reef,
dreamlike sandstone of the Wave

I touched magical and strange;
platypus, koalas and
kangaroos Down Under,
underwater alkali flies and
lacustrine tufa at Mono Lake,
astral glowing worms
in the Kawiti caves

I touched holy places;
Christianity's oldest churches,
the Pope's home in the Vatican,
Hindu and Sikh temples and
Moslem mosques in India,
Anasazi's kivas of Chaco canyon,
Aboriginal rocks of Uluru and Kata Tjuta

I touched glimmers of civilization;
uncovered roads of Pompeii,
fighting arenas of Rome,
terra cotta armies of Xian,
sharp stone points of the Apache,
pottery shards from the Navajo,
petroglyphs by the Jornada Mogollon

I touched fantastical things;
winds blowing on the
steppes of Patagonia,,
playas and craters of Death Valley,  
high peaks of the Continental Divide,
blazing white sands of the  
Land of Enchantment

I touched icons of liberty
and freedom;
the defended Alamo,
a fissured Liberty Bell,
an embracing Statue of Liberty,
the harbor of Checkpoints
Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie

I touched glorious things
made by man;
the monstrous Hoover Dam,
an exquisite Eiffel tower,
a soaring St Louis Arch,
an Art deco Empire State Building,
the sublime Golden Gate Bridge

I touched sparks from history;
the running path of an
Olympic flame just off Bourbon,
the last steps of Mohandas Ghandi
at Birla House before Godse,
******'s Eagle's nest and the
grounds over Der Führerbunker

I touched walls of power;
enclosed rings of the Pentagon,
steep steps of the
Great Wall of China,
untried bastions of
Peter and Paul's fortress,
fitted boulders of Machu Picchu

I touched strong hands;
of those conquering
Rommel's and ******'s hordes,
of cold warriors of
Chosin Reservoir,  
of forgotten soldiers of Vietnam,
of terrorist killers of today

I touched memories of war;
the somber Vietnam memorial,
the glorious Iwo Jima statue,
the cold slabs at Arlington,
the buried tomb of USS Arizonians,
Volgograd's Mother Russia  

I touched ugly things;
shreds of light in
Port Arthur's prison,
horrible smelly dust
in the streets from 9/11,
ash impregnated dirt
in the pits at Auschwitz

I touched oppressed freedom;
open ****** plazas
of Tiananmen Square,
smooth pipe and concrete
of the Berlin Wall,  
tall red brick walls
of the Moscow Kremlin

I touched constrained freedom;
heavy ankle and
wrist slave chains
in the South,
little windows
in Berlin's Stasi prison,
haunted cells in Alcatraz  

I touched remnants of madness;
wire and ovens of Auschwitz,
stacked chimneys and
wooden bunks of Berknau,        
Ravensbruck, and Dachau,
the tomb of Lenin,
toppled Stalins

I touched hands of survivors;
of Leningrad's siege,
of German POWs and
of Russian fighters
of Stalingrad's battle,
of Cancer's scourges  

I touched grand things;
deep waters of the Pacific and Atlantic,
blue hills of Appalachia,
towering peaks of the Rockies,
high falls of Yosemite Valley,
bursting geysers of Yellowstone,
crashing glaciers of Antarctica and Alaska    

I touched times of adventure;
abseiling and zipping in Costa Rica,
packing Pecos wilds and Padre isles,
flying nap of earth Hueys to Meridian,
breaking arms in JRTC's box,
fighting Abu Sayyaf, and Jemaah
Islami in Zamboanga City

I touched through you;
wet sand beaches of  Mexico and Jamaica,
mysterious energy of the monoliths of Stonehenge,
rarefied air in front of the
Louvre's Mona Lisa,
ancient wonders of Giza,
Egypt's tombs and pyramids

We shared soft touches;
drifting in Bora Bora's
surreal waters,
joining hands camel trekking the
Outback's dry sands,
strolling along Tasmania's
eucalyptus forest trails

basking in swinging hammocks
under Fiji's bright sun,
scrambling in
Las Vegas' glittering and
red rock canyons,
kissing under the
Taj Mahal's symphony of arches

We shared touching deep waters;
propelled in gondolas
through the city of canals,
Drifting atop Uru cat boats on Lake Titticaca,
Swooping in jet boats
up a wild river in Talkeetna

Racing in speed boats
around Sydney's great harbour,
skimming in pangas in Puerto Ayora,
paddling the Kennebec for
East's best petroglyphs,
cruising Salzbergwerk's underwater lake

We touched scrumptious things;
Beignets and chicory coffee at DuMonde's in the Big Easy,
Hot *** with sesame sauce
in the walled city of Xian,
Peking duck, dimsum, scorpions,
snake and starfish on Wangfujing Snack Street

We touched delicious things
Crawfish heads and tails at JuJu's shack
and ten years at Jeanette's,
Langoustine at Poinciana's, Fjöruborðinus and Galapagos,
Cream cheese and loch bagels
at Ess-a' s in the Big Apple

I touched your hand riding;
hang loose waves of Waikiki,
a big green bus in Denali's awesomeness,
clip clopping carriages of Vienna, Paris,
Prague, New Orleans, Krakow,
Quebec City, and Zakopane,
the acapella sugar train of St Kitts

We shared touching on paths;
the highway 1 of Big Sur,
the Road of the Great Ocean,
the bahn to Buda and Pest,
the path to the North of Maine,
the trail of the Hoh rainforest,
and time after time, the way home

I could spend
the next three decades,
in simple bliss,
having need for
touching nothing,
other than you!

©  2016 Jim Davis
A poem I wrote last year for my wife!  Posted now since it matches the HP' theme for today - "Places"
Grey May 2016
When she held me, I felt like an earthquake,
shrapnel cutting quick to the bone.
I’m disaster, an unknown
kind of danger is the most dangerous

When he held me, I felt like a riptide,
all control ran out the door.
With the *** and cappuccinos
I felt out of place in my new home

When she held me, I felt disgusting,
every move my own betrayal.
Yes, she hurt like a gunshot
but I did this to myself

When he held me, I felt strange,
like I should give my whole self.
He never asked, I’m thankful.
I don’t want to ruin everything else

When she held me, I felt like a secret,
like I was something small and wild.
In a room of screaming children,
we were something invincible

He never held me, but that’s alright.
Someone tell him I understand.
Take it slow, like we’re new friends.
I’m alive for once

No one touch me, I don’t want it.
Stop breathing down my neck.
My throat fills with *****,
But the hands never rest

No one touch me, leave me alone.
Stop pressing on my back.
There are thumbprints on my wrist bones
and handprints on my thighs

Don’t touch me when you aren’t here.
So many years have passed.
Is it trauma? I don’t care.
The filthy feeling always lasts

Don’t touch me when you aren’t here.
Nobody ever has to know.
When you’re sitting by your lonesome
Nobody cares, you’re on your own

Nobody cares, you’re on your own
I slit my wrist
   you watch me bleed
I'm at risk I slit my wrist's
for you to see oh Gee oh Gee,
how much pain you've given me.
how  you "truly"
mean to me,
on my wrists whats left of scars
I am hear behind these bars.
tears of guilt beyond these cheeks
lisson up to all these "freaks"

If not for you I'd take the leap,
forever week always at sleep.

glayz   *welch
Hannah Nov 2014
the black lines
i draw across my wrist
have nothing to the red blood
that washes away with my tears

the black lines
i draw across my wrist
keep me sane
because i can
rinse away the sorrow

the black lines
i draw across my wrist
can't take away
the pain of tomorrow
but can take away
the pain of today

the black lines
I draw across my wrist
can't compare to
the sharpness of
the smooth silver blade
i tore out of a
pencil sharpener

The black lines
i draw across my wrist
won't last for long
not leaving a scar
nor a sign that shows
i am not strong enough
I wore a wristwatch once to cover something from my Mother.

Even if she saw it, she'd probably believe it was from skateboarding.

I don't skateboard.
Rebecca Sorenson Oct 2017
The things in my wrist
They keep me alive
They fuel me
So I feel alright

The things in my wrist
They belong to me
Not you
Not everybody

But lately
My mind has been hazy
And I forgot about
The things in my wrist

And I attempted
To damage
To ruin
The things in my wrist

Because of me
Because of you
Because of everybody
Sacrelicious Mar 2012
Hi, my name is Jacob & Imma wrist cutter.
Once a cutter, always a cutter.
Addiction, this is kind of like
get rid of the first
and replace it with a W.C
and there you have it.

Our mission is to get all
the active cutters
to cut it out.
Cut, slice, and skin
bad ****
not your body.
It's beautiful without the scars.
& You
to die in a better way.

No one should leave the earth,
passed out,
cut up
burnt up
dried out
thrown out.
Passed out ,
drowning in a pool of your own blood
is not a glorious end
to a magnificent person.
Cut out cutting.
The Love Cult has
of band-aids
if you ever wanted to come visit.
Stay a while.
You'll <3 The Love Cult.
Oliver Grey Jan 2015
She paints a pretty picture
But the story has a twist
Her paintbrush was her razor
And her canvas was her wrist

She paints a pretty picture
In a color that's blood red
And using her sharp paintbrush
She ends up finally dead

Her pretty pictures fading
Quite slowly up her arm
Blood no longer flows through her
She can no longer do her harm

Yes, she painted a pretty picture
But the story has a twist
You see, her mind was just her razor
And her heart was just her wrist

- Unknown
I did not write this poem, and I cannot give credit since I do not know who the author is, but THIS IS NOT MY POEM.
George Anthony Jul 2016
they say a child can grow up conditioning themselves
to forget
all the trauma they've experienced;
they say they quite literally push it
to the back of their minds, as a way of coping,
a way to deal with the pain―without actually dealing with it.

it'll all come crashing back, eventually
everyone knows that a dam is a temporary structure,
that eventually the chemicals in the water
will erode the wood and
break it apart

it all comes rushing in
and escapes through blood-shot eyes,
drooling, sobbing coughs and panic-slick wheezes.

i never fully managed to forget my father
though i'm sure there are things i don't remember―
after all, that's an awful lot of hatred
and anger
for only several incidents, and a lifetime of an alcoholic's neglect...
isn't it?

but you―you i managed to block out completely
to the point where i knew the phrase "emotional abuse"
but couldn't quite be sure why i applied it to you;
it was just something i knew

how foolish it was for me to break the dam myself,
out of some morbid, masochistic curiosity:
"what did she do? what did she do to me? why?"
and then i remembered

all the sleepless nights spent reading to you,
lulling your insomniac mind (though not as bad as mind)
and soothing the supposed nightmares you had:
nightmares that you, conveniently, only suffered
when i was asleep―and i was hardly ever sleeping

all the memories you blurred between me
and your last boyfriend; all the ways
you made me feel like ****, comparing me
to a **** bag that cheated on you
and then lured you in again with falsities and
repeated apologies. you fell for it every time,
and i had to wonder: why am i not good enough
compared to that?

the way you asked me to watch you in the bath,
whilst you drew on your skin and told me:
"this is what i do to avoid cutting myself"
and i thought:
"i'm still cutting"
but i sacrificed my own stability to ensure your safety

******* martyr, i was
how disgusting to allow myself to be manipulated by you,
even after the hours you left me guessing out of spite
whether or not you'd burned your skin with that lighter
just because i didn't want to spoil your mood with my own

the holiday i spent in my dream city was spoiled
and stained and joyless, as you ****** the soul out of me
by burning images into my mind:
you and him, sharing a bath, looking after his family's kids.
why the **** would you do that to me?
more importantly, why the ****
did i let you? and still love you?

so many more incidents, so many more
broken promises and sick lies;
the way you hid me from your family
and only trusted me not to cheat because i'm demisexual;
you made sure i'd never emotionally connect with anybody else
and find attraction in them,
lest i move on from you and find another

one that wouldn't abuse me
like you did

— The End —