Submissions by Eerie
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
“Creation which cannot express itself becomes madness" ~Anais Nin
EROTIC POEM
Published
20th Mar 2023 11:29pm
20th Mar 2023 11:29pm
Preserved
A masochistic bride,
woven like delicate nests
of golden sugar.
If pain is my savior, then you
are the people, demanding
my exquisite fate.
woven like delicate nests
of golden sugar.
If pain is my savior, then you
are the people, demanding
my exquisite fate.
#BDSM
270 reads
6 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
5th Feb 2023 10:45pm
5th Feb 2023 10:45pm
Attached
Sometimes I leave my body.
The mind opens a portal
in which I step through,
and in the next dimension
She is there
Every nerve tingles,
every muscle tightens,
every cell explodes
For 10 seconds, the mountains
melt into lakes beneath the ocean;
it’s rapture in the rawest form.
It rattles my bones,
bites my flesh,
burns my soul
She is always in my subconscious,
whispering for me to come to her
But I never see her face
…I never see her face.
The mind opens a portal
in which I step through,
and in the next dimension
She is there
Every nerve tingles,
every muscle tightens,
every cell explodes
For 10 seconds, the mountains
melt into lakes beneath the ocean;
it’s rapture in the rawest form.
It rattles my bones,
bites my flesh,
burns my soul
She is always in my subconscious,
whispering for me to come to her
But I never see her face
…I never see her face.
#erotic
597 reads
13 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
29th Jan 2023 00:40am
29th Jan 2023 00:40am
What Were You Expecting
Morning darkness lays
its web of lamentation across
these legs, numb and cold,
aching to move.
Its become a procedure to come
back from these dreams: anxiety reaches
a pinnacle and I have to coax
myself into being.
Connecting to anything
or anyone is jarring. It sometimes feels
as though my insides
are being squeezed through a shredder.
I'm not entirely sure I've properly
learned how to love people.
Or maybe I love too much, and it's
loss I can't reckon with; so I cover myself
in a...
its web of lamentation across
these legs, numb and cold,
aching to move.
Its become a procedure to come
back from these dreams: anxiety reaches
a pinnacle and I have to coax
myself into being.
Connecting to anything
or anyone is jarring. It sometimes feels
as though my insides
are being squeezed through a shredder.
I'm not entirely sure I've properly
learned how to love people.
Or maybe I love too much, and it's
loss I can't reckon with; so I cover myself
in a...
#identity
365 reads
8 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th Jan 2023 12:55pm
26th Jan 2023 12:55pm
Buried
Lipstick smeared across basement walls
never made you a woman—
Red stains in white cotton never did, either.
Your fingers wandered into unfamiliar
caverns, coloring cheeks ruby red:
meanwhile in some corner, sat tiny
versions of a spirit collapsed.
Where was the kill switch—
The thing inside telling you to stop.
There is far too much recognition
in my developed psyche
to ever hand out a free pass,
but I burn truth and bury lies
because you clearly still have
the devil in...
never made you a woman—
Red stains in white cotton never did, either.
Your fingers wandered into unfamiliar
caverns, coloring cheeks ruby red:
meanwhile in some corner, sat tiny
versions of a spirit collapsed.
Where was the kill switch—
The thing inside telling you to stop.
There is far too much recognition
in my developed psyche
to ever hand out a free pass,
but I burn truth and bury lies
because you clearly still have
the devil in...
#sex
#abuse
#manipulation
426 reads
12 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
22nd Jan 2023 5:53pm
22nd Jan 2023 5:53pm
Gilded
A cold blanket
to cool the core
of all we know
to be hot and tangled.
Should we step
out of our wingless
cage, or—
Peck at hands
that comfort us.
to cool the core
of all we know
to be hot and tangled.
Should we step
out of our wingless
cage, or—
Peck at hands
that comfort us.
#spiritual
310 reads
23 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
21st Jan 2023 7:35pm
21st Jan 2023 7:35pm
Grief Isn’t Always Complicated
Your face had a look of true
peace, but your hands
betrayed Death,
with their bloodless, loose skin.
Just days earlier you were talking
about hearing angels sing,
and I wondered what it sounded like
I will never forget that open room,
the odd smell, my six-year-old,
curious about what an empty
body looked like, nearly pulling
the casket off the stand trying
to get a better look. My heart
stopped, and as I moved
to snatch her up, I heard you say:
Leave that baby alone,
she’s...
peace, but your hands
betrayed Death,
with their bloodless, loose skin.
Just days earlier you were talking
about hearing angels sing,
and I wondered what it sounded like
I will never forget that open room,
the odd smell, my six-year-old,
curious about what an empty
body looked like, nearly pulling
the casket off the stand trying
to get a better look. My heart
stopped, and as I moved
to snatch her up, I heard you say:
Leave that baby alone,
she’s...
#death
#memories
260 reads
10 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
16th Jan 2023 6:38pm
16th Jan 2023 6:38pm
The Thick of It
Here in the garden of paradox
lies a misshapen form acutely aware
of absolute, persistent denial.
Your fingers pulsate against
spongy flesh, finding
the sting of barbs.
Scarlet drops are absorbed
by a dust of hunger—
Let me sleep.
lies a misshapen form acutely aware
of absolute, persistent denial.
Your fingers pulsate against
spongy flesh, finding
the sting of barbs.
Scarlet drops are absorbed
by a dust of hunger—
Let me sleep.
#denial
354 reads
12 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
9th Oct 2022 10:47pm
9th Oct 2022 10:47pm
Eclipse
If this piece of me
casts too much light
over things that should
remain hidden, then so be it.
I will never open
spoiled cans of hidden
memories or moments
that tie together past and present.
Most days I think about
endless circles, and waiting to die.
Where is the meaning.
Where is my happiness.
casts too much light
over things that should
remain hidden, then so be it.
I will never open
spoiled cans of hidden
memories or moments
that tie together past and present.
Most days I think about
endless circles, and waiting to die.
Where is the meaning.
Where is my happiness.
#depression
#emptiness
#apathy
605 reads
24 Comments
SPIRITUAL POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2022 00:08am
2nd Jun 2022 00:08am
Savage Daughter
I am a savage daughter.
I stomp into the earth, eyes
turning to the sun: wings clipped
by another’s undoing.
If I scatter misdeeds
like tiny seeds, call upon
the rain: let them sprout
their velvet petals so that I might
have a bed to slip into.
Let me wilt and whither: bleeding
dust into my Mother.
Let her swallow me so that
she may birth another.
I stomp into the earth, eyes
turning to the sun: wings clipped
by another’s undoing.
If I scatter misdeeds
like tiny seeds, call upon
the rain: let them sprout
their velvet petals so that I might
have a bed to slip into.
Let me wilt and whither: bleeding
dust into my Mother.
Let her swallow me so that
she may birth another.
#dreams
#nature
#sleep
635 reads
10 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
28th May 2022 1:29am
28th May 2022 1:29am
Thoughts at Your Funeral
Your death was nothing soothing
to a now apathetic heart.
I have other sensitivities connected
to your existence.
Today, that cord was cut.
You'll never know her, and I
suspect I won't either.
to a now apathetic heart.
I have other sensitivities connected
to your existence.
Today, that cord was cut.
You'll never know her, and I
suspect I won't either.
#father
#death
#daughter
485 reads
5 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
12th May 2022 3:45am
12th May 2022 3:45am
Longing
Summer has (almost) come:
windows open, air moving through curtains
billowing like astral clouds in a hurry
to get somewhere.
Shutter-speed quick,
comet flash, streak across
blow-foam walls,
lighting the atmosphere for one nanosecond,
and then the darkness returns
to wrap me in its sweet, breathy embrace.
The deep sounds, the night sounds, have me longing
for Autumn, for that time when death
settles into us, and magic weaves her fingers
around the best of what I am.
windows open, air moving through curtains
billowing like astral clouds in a hurry
to get somewhere.
Shutter-speed quick,
comet flash, streak across
blow-foam walls,
lighting the atmosphere for one nanosecond,
and then the darkness returns
to wrap me in its sweet, breathy embrace.
The deep sounds, the night sounds, have me longing
for Autumn, for that time when death
settles into us, and magic weaves her fingers
around the best of what I am.
#fall
#magic
583 reads
20 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
10th May 2022 4:56am
10th May 2022 4:56am
The Ache of Self Containment
Tuck me into the neat folds
of your skin. Liquid cells gather
minute details of information: they cling
to the hardest parts of me.
Your hands, in the safest places,
gathered at ribs below the pink tinge
of tissue. You let me ramble
in my measure, devoid of any plan.
But...{and this is the rabid conflagration
of devastation}...
...you peer inside these sawdust
eyes; dry films, each border lit
in vile neon: clicking one
empty cartridge after the next—
Yesterday’s Pain
Today’s Anger ...
of your skin. Liquid cells gather
minute details of information: they cling
to the hardest parts of me.
Your hands, in the safest places,
gathered at ribs below the pink tinge
of tissue. You let me ramble
in my measure, devoid of any plan.
But...{and this is the rabid conflagration
of devastation}...
...you peer inside these sawdust
eyes; dry films, each border lit
in vile neon: clicking one
empty cartridge after the next—
Yesterday’s Pain
Today’s Anger ...
#vampires
356 reads
3 Comments
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