Newest
HollowFor how long could I forget not to remember how the sunburn on my chest can stop my breath? How the thought of you leaks out with inhalation now the pain that is your life demands my grief?Hollow
Now the promise that I made to be your strength is as hollow as the void left by my heart beneath the ear that craved my words, your "good addiction", before the world became the toxin in your blood.
by ~maranga
MindslipSometimes I forget not to remember the sunburn on my chest that stops my breathMindslip
But the thought of you leaks out with inhalation and the pain that is your life demands my grief.
It is a moment of indulgence often countered with whispered sighs, dry tears and joyless grin. Breathe on! Lift up, chest! Get heaving! Prepare to free the air - just let it go.
by ~maranga
Favourites
Cat and MouseI am an obsessive, possessive compulsive Besotted by your flawed brand of perfection, My love for you is a grasping fist - Crushing you, slowly suffocating, Squeezing the breath - and the resistance –Cat and Mouse
from your lungs, from your soul… Constriction breeds subtle friction,
You flail now and then like a landed fish,
But you can’t escape me darling… You can’t get away because you don’t want to, Your willpower has corroded, has eroded to dust
I am your heroin, killing you softly as the old song goes, Caressing your heart into fatal submission&#
by ~melancholy-delilah
untitled reality"reality sucks" he told me ---untitled reality
i feel untitled
mean ing less
just another flower in an overcrowded garden
---
in front of a silent window i watch rain polish trees i watch
a leaf fall solitary alone
as a reader in a library
i wish we could get in bed with art gingerly hang our hearts forget about trying
the labor to maintain
forget the reality of us
but we can't it's there we're over
i shouldn't be writing this
by *IAmPoetry
Ginger BreadCook ’em ’fore they’re fully grown— Sucklin’ pigs and tender meats— ’Til they’re fallin’ off the bone.Ginger Bread
Curst, that wicked, evil crone, Who hexed my foods, breads to beets. Cook ’em, for they’re fully grown;
Stare as each one shifts to stone. Roast beef ashes and depletes, ’Til they’re fallen off the bone.
Left to live on sweets alone— Cookied men, my fav’rite treats. (Cook ’em ’fore they’re fully grown.)
Years find me glycemic prone, Boilin’ sor
by =vix0r
Fave News
- 59 Fluttering Towards Flutterings - Mar 30, 2009
- 156 So, I herd u liek mugkips? - Mar 2, 2009
- 67 Funny Poetry Competition - Mar 30, 2008
- 46 Love Poetry Competition [ Flutterings ] - Feb 28, 2008
- 43 Yet Another Poetry Competition! - Feb 4, 2008
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--
"Don't forget that I cannot see myself. My role is limited to being the one who looks in the mirror." - French poet Jacques Rigaut
--
Believe me, you're better off not thinking about my
I live on Free Rice.
--
"I woke up today
I wish I felt something
The odour of my apathy
just might be true
I want to be the things I see
The pilgrim that is me
But I know I ain't that free..." - Suburban Me, IN FLAMES
(I'll pop over later to thank you for the watch
--
Believe me, you're better off not thinking about my
I live on Free Rice.
untitled
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, writing to you, that is. I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
--
Believe me, you're better off not thinking about my
I live on Free Rice.
Thank you for the
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, writing to you, that is. I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
--
Believe me, you're better off not thinking about my
I live on Free Rice.
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