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shriya Apr 2015
Finding a needle in a haystack is easier than finding true love.
In my opinion
Alysia Marie Apr 2015
Stand here or just shrug away
Leave me that heart you say you've held
Forcing me to ponder hopelessly
In the deepest depths and realms
That scent-
That smile-
That eerie grin-
Still lingers in my mind
Like piercing needles puncturing
The chambers of my mind
Stop
Go
Just wait in time
Like the ones around you will
Losing moments
Precious moments
The ones that make you ill
Deep inside of this twisted mind
I call my memory
I lock it up and keep it tight
Your secrets safe with me

                                        Alysia Marie 2015 ©
A Watoot Mar 2015
Hey,
threads and needles;
hook and eye;
you and me.
eh.
Amanda Mar 2015
On some days, the sky is greyier as if it is shaded in by a 6B pencil.

Black as charcoal with a very shaky weak wrist.

Everything that passes through chapped & soured bitten-back lips tastes like weak tea.

(I think sugar cubes were all eaten.)

Oh, your head hurts, aches, like bad bruises from hitting the sharp edge of the table.
Cotton bandages and one light kiss above the left eyebrow helps.

And your chest is too tight, the kind of feeling from shoelaces knotted hard against your ankles.

*Use safety scissors.
Sometimes, you will not hear the things you wish to hear, but rather what you need to hear.
School stress is insane, but it's okay, it's nearly friday and easter break.
Hope you are all really really well!
x
Drifter Jan 2015
Turn off the pain and up the heat
   Puncture me with needles so sweet
Run the blade right through my heart
   And love me 'til the blood runs dark

Cut me arms and pull my hair
   Tell me just how much you care
Take my body, I wont fight
   Take me far from the light

Tear the meat from my bones
   And make it feel like this is home
Slash the whip across my face
   Bring me to my happy place
lackluster endings bend kinks that crease
but they were
lost in the lust for scraped backs and knees,
and she would
never say no
long as he'd
never say please,
and they would
never mention scars,
or intentions,
or disease.
and with the ease at which the so called passion turned to hypodermic fashion,
he would leave only a note,
'be careful: needles in the trashcan."
cuz - like - love and *** are like drugs right. and like - you cant shoot up ***, you know? ******' rad/
Olga Valerevna Sep 2014
So what is the extent to which you killed yourself today
That minor slight incision - did it carry you away
  And if it’s not the pain that makes your body like a drug
Then what is it that causes you to seek that kind of love
You thought it would be easy to detain what you could see
But something else has happened & your mind is not at ease
  I know you want the answers but they never seem to come
At least that’s what you think with all your patience going numb
And now the only remedy you seek is gone before
your limbs can ever feel it, ’til you’re lying on the floor
  Remember you were someone ‘fore you gave up on yourself
The kind of hope you carry’ll never leave you in your Hell
addictions to the s(k)in
Kurt Kanawa Jul 2014
You are the itch I can't ever scratch,
you trickle and ***** my thoughts
like sandpaper to a match,

latching onto the roots of my head,
you are the one stalking my thinking space
in and between the hours I lay on my bed,

and I tell myself that you're nothing to me,
a dusty web on the corner of my mind,
you are, I tell myself, nothing to me,

that you are the vexing fly I can't catch,
and I tell myself you are nothing to me,
nothing but the itch I can't ever scratch,
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