Submissions by WordsUnspoken (lucifersteeth)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Most of these poems were written in/post-high school, so naturally if I tried to edit them today, 90% would end up deleted. So I'm just going to leave them here. Also I still post sometimes, so hello. ♥️
DARK POEM
Published
23rd Feb 2014 1:22am
23rd Feb 2014 1:22am
Just Say "No"!
Your words are
blades
and your breath
is my
cigarette.
It is an addiction;
you are an
affliction -
that I have
yet to
indulge.
blades
and your breath
is my
cigarette.
It is an addiction;
you are an
affliction -
that I have
yet to
indulge.
647 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
22nd Feb 2014 6:25pm
22nd Feb 2014 6:25pm
The Acoustics in the Walls of My Veins
Oh, open my
quivering vein;
dispel its
contents like they
challenge
your wine.
Drink on,
on in their
pulsing sweet;
and do not mind
how it slows -
my love,
only that it gives
for you.
Oh, open,
and watch
me
close.
quivering vein;
dispel its
contents like they
challenge
your wine.
Drink on,
on in their
pulsing sweet;
and do not mind
how it slows -
my love,
only that it gives
for you.
Oh, open,
and watch
me
close.
533 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
22nd Feb 2014 2:17am
22nd Feb 2014 2:17am
The Candles
Wondering
what it means
to
be.
Temporary.
what it means
to
be.
Temporary.
556 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
21st Feb 2014 2:50am
21st Feb 2014 2:50am
The English Renegade (N. regarding if D. dies from him, I think?)
Thou immortal hand -
jesting at her pallid cheek
at the death
of thy love,
whose rotting vessel
you still keep
For fear to
forget
her holy kiss
you do hold her
gorgeous corpse, beside
Although her body
does hiss and bloat
and her ocean eyes have met
their storm of greys -
Although her skin hath
festered, brown -
At least your love,
in her beauteous right
you still have
For your perfect
immortal hand.
jesting at her pallid cheek
at the death
of thy love,
whose rotting vessel
you still keep
For fear to
forget
her holy kiss
you do hold her
gorgeous corpse, beside
Although her body
does hiss and bloat
and her ocean eyes have met
their storm of greys -
Although her skin hath
festered, brown -
At least your love,
in her beauteous right
you still have
For your perfect
immortal hand.
674 reads
1 Comment
SELF POEM
Published
21st Feb 2014 00:52am
21st Feb 2014 00:52am
Anything
I am afraid I am
too much to
want or to
love or anything
other than
forget entirely
when I become
too restless or
otherwise lethargic
in my bed.
I am afraid that
maybe I am
a speck
but I am also
terrified of
being someone's
universe.
I am afraid I am
some awful thing
that no one could
know wholly -
I am something -
but, truly
maybe
I am very much,
a very vast amount
of nothing.
To say the truth,
I am terrified
to feel or be felt.
I am afraid of my ...
too much to
want or to
love or anything
other than
forget entirely
when I become
too restless or
otherwise lethargic
in my bed.
I am afraid that
maybe I am
a speck
but I am also
terrified of
being someone's
universe.
I am afraid I am
some awful thing
that no one could
know wholly -
I am something -
but, truly
maybe
I am very much,
a very vast amount
of nothing.
To say the truth,
I am terrified
to feel or be felt.
I am afraid of my ...
851 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
19th Feb 2014 9:16pm
19th Feb 2014 9:16pm
The Pliant Matter of Zombies
Give me your morbid kiss;
that fiendish tongue,
like silver bliss.
Let it make me sick
with masochism,
because I can see -
you are the sting of
mercury.
Give me your rotten
love;
press your lips
of carnage upon
my fading flower.
Let me become
dependant and let me
feed your
resentment.
that fiendish tongue,
like silver bliss.
Let it make me sick
with masochism,
because I can see -
you are the sting of
mercury.
Give me your rotten
love;
press your lips
of carnage upon
my fading flower.
Let me become
dependant and let me
feed your
resentment.
810 reads
7 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
19th Feb 2014 9:05pm
19th Feb 2014 9:05pm
Empathy: The Child
Be still, my darling;
his eyes see
everything -
and his reeling
hands will
vice your little
throat the
very first time he
sees you cry.
For this is the
beauty of abuse;
the terror and
mourning bruises
he executed like a kiss -
and the pearlish
teeth he took.
Oh, be still, my
royal muse -
be still beneath
the boards of
our floor.
his eyes see
everything -
and his reeling
hands will
vice your little
throat the
very first time he
sees you cry.
For this is the
beauty of abuse;
the terror and
mourning bruises
he executed like a kiss -
and the pearlish
teeth he took.
Oh, be still, my
royal muse -
be still beneath
the boards of
our floor.
686 reads
2 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
18th Feb 2014 1:52am
18th Feb 2014 1:52am
The Ripper and Our Love(ly Lies)
And a savage
vice he is -
who forces
his tongue
against
my wounds -
and apologizes
thereof
with salt.
vice he is -
who forces
his tongue
against
my wounds -
and apologizes
thereof
with salt.
601 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
17th Feb 2014 5:47am
17th Feb 2014 5:47am
The Thing About Being Alone is that You Can't Tell Anyone because There Isn't Anyone to Tell
Is it sad that the
only
thing I really
want is someone
to tell me
it's okay to
cry?
I just need a long,
soft hug with a
burning bridge -
or a person
who cares
and needs a love
like I do.
Because I just feel
so fucking
inconsolable -
I feel like no
heart
would mourn
the day I begin
to decay
in my shroud -
no embrace would
be needed for
shivering
shoulders of
grief would
become of my
abscence.
I feel alone in my
warzone of
a soul.
And, oh -...
only
thing I really
want is someone
to tell me
it's okay to
cry?
I just need a long,
soft hug with a
burning bridge -
or a person
who cares
and needs a love
like I do.
Because I just feel
so fucking
inconsolable -
I feel like no
heart
would mourn
the day I begin
to decay
in my shroud -
no embrace would
be needed for
shivering
shoulders of
grief would
become of my
abscence.
I feel alone in my
warzone of
a soul.
And, oh -...
730 reads
5 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
17th Feb 2014 4:05am
17th Feb 2014 4:05am
The Fray of Knots (Unwound)
My resolve is
stained
with the blood
I had
promised
not to shed.
And there
is your
communion -
your
loyalty and
your
compulsion.
stained
with the blood
I had
promised
not to shed.
And there
is your
communion -
your
loyalty and
your
compulsion.
689 reads
0 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Feb 2014 3:00am
16th Feb 2014 3:00am
The Tavern of Neurotic Teens
O -
frosty kiss of
winter,
caress immortal
neck;
into your
stone embrace,
I shiver.
Blankets of
starkest white;
frigid
cite of cold -
emaciates the
height
you bring and
turns sick
yellows to
gold.
O -
to spring!
You redeem.
Lilies within
ice;
my wilting sorrow -
dahlia's neglect.
O -
frosty kiss of
winter.
Trace collarbone
and spine;
bring back
both bitter
bite
of snow,
as
well
as
that swan song
exodus of
mine.
frosty kiss of
winter,
caress immortal
neck;
into your
stone embrace,
I shiver.
Blankets of
starkest white;
frigid
cite of cold -
emaciates the
height
you bring and
turns sick
yellows to
gold.
O -
to spring!
You redeem.
Lilies within
ice;
my wilting sorrow -
dahlia's neglect.
O -
frosty kiss of
winter.
Trace collarbone
and spine;
bring back
both bitter
bite
of snow,
as
well
as
that swan song
exodus of
mine.
553 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
14th Feb 2014 11:24pm
14th Feb 2014 11:24pm
The Difference Between Us
He kissed my ribs
With his fingertips.
But everything changes,
And like the grit
Under the nails he bit,
I was nothing;
And used,
And dirt
When he was finished.
Quite easily forgotten,
Like the dead parts of you
That accumulate.
The parts you don't really need.
I was the dried blood
Beneath his nails.
The alcoholic stains
Inside his mattress
That no one really
Bothers to treat,
But rather let fade
Until it is only a faint scent,
A whisper of who you
Were ten years ago....
With his fingertips.
But everything changes,
And like the grit
Under the nails he bit,
I was nothing;
And used,
And dirt
When he was finished.
Quite easily forgotten,
Like the dead parts of you
That accumulate.
The parts you don't really need.
I was the dried blood
Beneath his nails.
The alcoholic stains
Inside his mattress
That no one really
Bothers to treat,
But rather let fade
Until it is only a faint scent,
A whisper of who you
Were ten years ago....
733 reads
8 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by WordsUnspoken (lucifersteeth)
