Submissions by Pepperdust
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
2nd Jun 2020 10:48am
2nd Jun 2020 10:48am
Phantom Agony.
Sometimes I feel like I'm stuck inside myself, only writing and feeling things about myself
when the world is so big.
But the eyes I have are mine, my brain and its synapses,
my tongue and my lungs, my fingers and movements,
these are also mine.
Therefore, it's hard to see something other than what my eyes can see
or feel and wonder about things my mind can't reach.
But even if I could, my lungs breathe for me
and my mouth is a slave.
I can not escape myself, because I am human.
And after everything,
it means to be a prisoner.
when the world is so big.
But the eyes I have are mine, my brain and its synapses,
my tongue and my lungs, my fingers and movements,
these are also mine.
Therefore, it's hard to see something other than what my eyes can see
or feel and wonder about things my mind can't reach.
But even if I could, my lungs breathe for me
and my mouth is a slave.
I can not escape myself, because I am human.
And after everything,
it means to be a prisoner.
#sadness
#anxiety
#depression
#loneliness
#myself
427 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
25th May 2020 11:03am
25th May 2020 11:03am
Artistic Legacy.
The ink on my skin tells me to keep going
But the ink coming out of my fingers create messages of departure.
My head screams in my silence, urging me to punch me in the face until I can see the purple under my skin designing another art piece of my feelings...
Maybe everything would be different if I could sleep.
But maybe this insomnia is a way of keeping me breathing,
keeping me from following seducer Hypnos into the numbness of eternal slumber.
But the ink coming out of my fingers create messages of departure.
My head screams in my silence, urging me to punch me in the face until I can see the purple under my skin designing another art piece of my feelings...
Maybe everything would be different if I could sleep.
But maybe this insomnia is a way of keeping me breathing,
keeping me from following seducer Hypnos into the numbness of eternal slumber.
#anxiety
#depression
#dark #conflict
#dark #conflict
444 reads
2 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
19th May 2020 8:10am
19th May 2020 8:10am
Loathing, unloading.
You come lurking, trying to fuck me with your words in the middle of the night.
I reply with sadness and desperation, for this is what I am and how I jerk off actually.
But you don't know that
and therefore you tried to leave right when I reached my waistband.
"So tell me more about how you think of me and how you want me to get on my knees and pray"
Prey. You can't resist, you're an easy man, as most.
We go in deeper, till I can almost taste your pleasure
and then we're done.
How do you say goodbye after that?
It doesn't matter, I'm not what...
I reply with sadness and desperation, for this is what I am and how I jerk off actually.
But you don't know that
and therefore you tried to leave right when I reached my waistband.
"So tell me more about how you think of me and how you want me to get on my knees and pray"
Prey. You can't resist, you're an easy man, as most.
We go in deeper, till I can almost taste your pleasure
and then we're done.
How do you say goodbye after that?
It doesn't matter, I'm not what...
#lust
#technology
#apathy
523 reads
8 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th May 2020 6:23am
18th May 2020 6:23am
Gone
Am I a prisoner under watchful eyes from glowing boxes all around the world?
How could I ever disappear when my footsteps never fade and there's always the trace of my boredom under my name for all my friends and friends of friends...
My digital impression, fingerprints of my mind,
my own demise.
I could never lie,
even if I wanted to,
there's proof everywhere.
My thoughts, my secrets, my hand between my thighs,
everybody knows.
They can read my lines, put their own inside my brain,
make me want what I see, make me...
How could I ever disappear when my footsteps never fade and there's always the trace of my boredom under my name for all my friends and friends of friends...
My digital impression, fingerprints of my mind,
my own demise.
I could never lie,
even if I wanted to,
there's proof everywhere.
My thoughts, my secrets, my hand between my thighs,
everybody knows.
They can read my lines, put their own inside my brain,
make me want what I see, make me...
#technology
#FeelingTrapped
384 reads
5 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
18th May 2020 6:18am
18th May 2020 6:18am
Humanoids
My cat pooped inside the house.
I got mad and locked her out.
While I cleaned I got to thinking about useless existence.
A creature that eats and poops and dies.
And then I thought about my cat again.
I got mad and locked her out.
While I cleaned I got to thinking about useless existence.
A creature that eats and poops and dies.
And then I thought about my cat again.
#satirical
349 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
24th Apr 2020 8:25am
24th Apr 2020 8:25am
Mon cœur.
There's no struggle.
It's easy to love you.
My mind races, my heart bursts
and I surrender.
More than your eyes
or your voice
or the stupid look on my face when I think of you
Which is always by the way.
It's peace.
I found my nest.
It's easy to love you.
My mind races, my heart bursts
and I surrender.
More than your eyes
or your voice
or the stupid look on my face when I think of you
Which is always by the way.
It's peace.
I found my nest.
#love
#peace
#FallingInLove #emotions
#FallingInLove #emotions
397 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Apr 2020 6:25am
18th Apr 2020 6:25am
Predator's agony.
Would a lion ask for help?
Or the expected dominance of such creature would turn aching moans into roars for those who listen?
I'm not sad because I want to.
I can't control life pouring out
even though I can see it.
Would the prey even care?
Or the expected dominance of such creature would turn aching moans into roars for those who listen?
I'm not sad because I want to.
I can't control life pouring out
even though I can see it.
Would the prey even care?
#depression
#MentalHealth
#disappointment
374 reads
5 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
14th Apr 2020 4:50am
14th Apr 2020 4:50am
Russian doll.
I've been reading my past.
I was searching for some solace or relief on the belief that maybe I have been or have done more.
Turns out my voice has always been hoarse and I never knew how to scream.
My bad memory gave me the habit of keeping words, saving them
so maybe they could save me,
but there's nothing new.
I thought I'd see something different, some proof that I wasn't born broken
but this time the russian doll had only smaller, less experienced versions of the same tragedy.
I think maybe I love too much in a world that loves too little. ...
I was searching for some solace or relief on the belief that maybe I have been or have done more.
Turns out my voice has always been hoarse and I never knew how to scream.
My bad memory gave me the habit of keeping words, saving them
so maybe they could save me,
but there's nothing new.
I thought I'd see something different, some proof that I wasn't born broken
but this time the russian doll had only smaller, less experienced versions of the same tragedy.
I think maybe I love too much in a world that loves too little. ...
#MentalHealth
#emptiness
#apathy
346 reads
5 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
23rd Mar 2020 3:06pm
23rd Mar 2020 3:06pm
Love...?
I cannot write about love, because I'm still a child.
Love seems to be the treasure of adults, those confused about what it means or what it should.
Mankind rules over so many things, too many other species. But we don't rule over ourselves and we are too far from understanding why.
I cannot talk about love, because I let it slip through my hands too many times thinking it had a name, and a face. But love is not a person, love is not a place.
So what does it mean for it to be a feeling? Maybe it's only a starting point for something.
But it can't be the reason why I...
Love seems to be the treasure of adults, those confused about what it means or what it should.
Mankind rules over so many things, too many other species. But we don't rule over ourselves and we are too far from understanding why.
I cannot talk about love, because I let it slip through my hands too many times thinking it had a name, and a face. But love is not a person, love is not a place.
So what does it mean for it to be a feeling? Maybe it's only a starting point for something.
But it can't be the reason why I...
#love
#relationships
#admiration #respect
#admiration #respect
429 reads
8 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Feb 2020 5:03am
17th Feb 2020 5:03am
Clear scar
I was romanticizing flesh, fantasizing life when it was only trembling legs on a messy bed.
I was caught up by monogamy and tried to morph passion into love, desire into possession, orgasms into meaning. We were friends, of course, and still are, thank god, but then we were boobs, legs, hands, holes, sucking and fucking. We weren't lovers, not in the way hearts make sounds anyways, simply sweat and smiles afterwards.
I created the scenery, the heroes and the villains, and somehow I managed to blame it all on you for a very long time. Well, not anymore. The story ended, the agony of...
I was caught up by monogamy and tried to morph passion into love, desire into possession, orgasms into meaning. We were friends, of course, and still are, thank god, but then we were boobs, legs, hands, holes, sucking and fucking. We weren't lovers, not in the way hearts make sounds anyways, simply sweat and smiles afterwards.
I created the scenery, the heroes and the villains, and somehow I managed to blame it all on you for a very long time. Well, not anymore. The story ended, the agony of...
#conflict
#TimeHeals
#separation
531 reads
3 Comments
EROTIC POEM
Published
4th Feb 2020 1:00am
4th Feb 2020 1:00am
Desire untouched
The atmosphere... For the expected surprise.
The planning,
The longing,
It's a desperation,
Of sorts.
It's the contemplation of human fragility.
Gasping
Gasping for air in a room with windows open
Gasping for air, silently, simply for being in the same room with the forbidden.
Hands barely touching, tingling every spot that meets the warmth of another skin.
Building up a tingling on secret places that scream!... quietly, with desire.
The tingling becomes throbbing, between the tights tying up and suppressing the feeling until it...
The planning,
The longing,
It's a desperation,
Of sorts.
It's the contemplation of human fragility.
Gasping
Gasping for air in a room with windows open
Gasping for air, silently, simply for being in the same room with the forbidden.
Hands barely touching, tingling every spot that meets the warmth of another skin.
Building up a tingling on secret places that scream!... quietly, with desire.
The tingling becomes throbbing, between the tights tying up and suppressing the feeling until it...
#lust
#erotic
#sensual
#temptation
#passion
847 reads
11 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
20th Jun 2019 8:25am
20th Jun 2019 8:25am
Hair
I'm never going to be that elegant lady at a cafe holding an expresso, hair perfectly tight on a windy day. You know, I'm going to be like today but older, grayer, hopefully wiser and maybe even a little bit more financially stable. My hair will never stay put, my curls will always be loose and once in a while someone will call me wild. That's me. I'm not fancy clothes or any kind of physical vanity. I value things like good food, almost like a sacred thing to do, smoking, reading, kissing, touching, crying, coming, waves, fresh air and cool breezes, music, dancing with no regards whatsoever...
#identity
#freedom
588 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Pepperdust
