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Alex Aug 13
On a night, dark and dreary,
I mused, wearily.
Whatever was I to do
With it watching me?

Wings as black as night,
Ink dripping, feathers like knives.
It has eyes like stars
In a somber, summer sky.

It turned its head and trilled,
Exactly 13 times.
Each note an alarm of distress
Inside my plagued mind.

It was here for me.
It shuffled its black feathers
And unfurled its dark wings,
Showing nothing but a heart.

This heart, my life, my ever-
Changing tune. This song
Began lively, crescendoing.
Ending with a thump.

I watched it falter.
I stared at it and counted.
I got to thirteen,
And then I watched as it stopped.
A poem inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven"
Sweet Pea Aug 1
Make her your *****.
She'll grow dependent.
Feed her nutrients.
She'll be resplendent.

Membranes seal her in.
What a perfect fit!
My diagnosis:
Willing to submit.
Tucker Dobson May 18
(A realization of otherness)
Frenzied shaking has taken my soul
I am crushed by the burning of gold-brined teeth
My unclean lips draw back in a grimace
As I rest my head against the beam of
Some ragged torture device and get
Splinters driven into my constricting scalp
Take a spike and drive it through my temple
Into this piece of time-worn timber which
Is saturated with skin flakes from my victims

(The reception of the sacrament)
Shall I not raise my filth-clotted hands up to
This presence which is like smoke and fills
My lungs with the kind of fear true power brings?
Let there be flesh to envelop my quaking body
Let it be caught between my teeth and drape
My skin in a new raiment of priesthood
Let there be hematic torrents rushing down
To clean out the wounds and make them imperishable
To be better drink from well-dug cisterns
Before a holy God, my desires become abhorrent and I am left yearning for Christ's flesh and blood.
I had a nightmare
My ****** flesh was torn off
Your clothes, rotting skin
This is my first Haiku, any suggestions for how I can improve would be nice :)
Archer Apr 3
There.
Do you see it?
She’s gone and figured it out again
Gone and solved it again…
Gone. Away. Again.

No matter how many times I may
try
and trap her!
Treat her!-…
She breaks out.

Its truly pathetic,
Really
It is
Like watching a rat squirm around in a cage
Guts spilling out through her mouth
And moistening the concrete around it
With the gushing. burning. blood
Until it dies..
Again

I’ve taken her ability to speak
To see
To feel- anything(!) that is not agony

Time goes on but it’s stopped for her
She moves slowly enough where
s e c o n d s
Seem like
E O N S
That’s be nothing to me,
But I’m sure you can see how I could feel even
slightly
FRUSTRATED
with her refusing to give up

How many times do I need to
Take her apart
And
Scramble her back together?!

I could take her
Tongue out
And
Tie it through her like a metal tube

Or
Peel her skin off
And
Force it into other places like a child’s jigsaw puzzle…
But that would just be repetitive

It takes lo n  g   e     r
And
L O  N   G    E     R
for her to. To
JUST die
Each time!

….
What’s a god to a speck?
She barely casts a
shadow
On my hand when I hold her
So I suppose.
It’s just
‘Fascination’
At this point
You can run
but you
can't
hide

I
see
everything

I am the shadow
blurring in the dark
I am the eyes
keeping vigil through your window
I am the striking gaze
causing you to glance around
paranoid

Foolish lovely
you left your door
unlocked

knife glint
floorboards creak
door squeaks softly
feet padding on carpet
your silhouette
asleep
in
bed

Wolf smile
mouth watering
teeth glistening
eyes sparkling

You awake when you feel
cold
steel
on your throat

Your eyes widen
flinching
mouth opens
scream
piercing
panicked
desperate
beautiful

"there's no one here to save you now, darling."

your terror and pain is
palpable
flooding my soul with utter
satisfaction
as you squirm under your
restraints

my knife traces your skin in pleasing patterns
leaving crimson fire in its wake
drip
drip
drip
eternity passes
time in a blink
the life drains from your body
and your eyes

exhale
a swift wipe of the knife on the stained carpet
one last predator smile
another hunt
another masterpiece
finally, again, I feel
good

tiptoe
out the door
gloves buried swiftly
back in bed
again
dreaming
of you

of that first
blissful
cut
POV of a serial killer- I read too many thrillers
Sorry if it's a little gory
althea Mar 3
I know I should find comfort in predictability
Haven’t I had enough of having my spine ripped out from behind me?
Yet the way you stare everywhere but my gaze
Midnight messages of what I tempt you with
The blatant absence of personality in the words you choose to describe me
Pretty
Funny
Smart
All trademarked generically
by countless machine operated boys I have played with before
Bore me past the point of even fleeting interest
So I fantasize about the beginning of cannibalism
Gory eroticism in the form of utter consumption
Compulsivity unbearable to the point of obsession
Because skin against skin will never sate my satisfaction
Yet I will lower my necklines and gloss my lips for you
Pose, flash on
in the darkness of a shameful Saturday night
And respond emptily to your mechanical propositions–
the only way you can digest me.
Mishika Feb 17
I worship
The glass deity,
Inside the temple of insanity;
My temple of insanity.

With spirals for eyes,
And darkness for lips,
She shines in the moonlight.
My goddess, I bow to her.

She gazes
With eyes of pity,
Inside the temple of insanity;
My temple of insanity.

Her skin was glass
And I was oblivious to my nails.
Her blood bathed in the moonlight,
My goddess, please forgive me.

On her throne
I'm sitting,
Inside the temple of insanity;
My temple of insanity.
dead poet Jan 11
i saw a half-dead man
at the butcher shop;
he ordered half a kilo chicken,
with half a voice;
his eyes, bloodshot,
sliced open like
the chicken’s clucking throat,  
and surveyed the butcher’s knife
for traces of humanity:
i don’t presume he found any.

the butcher verbalized an
unofficial bill of transaction:
the man paid with a 100,
and a 50 -
he was offered a 20 in return
by the butcher, who pressed
a ****** fingerprint on the note,
at the denomination.

the man reached for it…
but retracted halfway,
and said,
‘keep the change’.
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