Drip, drop, and drool
- Reads 26
- Votes 4
- Parts 4
When my fantasy, emotion, and impulse engulf me, poems like the ones I have here in this poetry collection, "Drip, Drop, and Drool", just flow into pieces of paper I could grab in that very moment. Random thoughts flow spontaneously that I tend oblivious of the theme being crafted thereafter. I mean no harm nor insult to anyone or anything implied or explicitly stated in this work of literature. It's purely fictional and mere coincidence, if any.
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#8
supplication
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Fuck You for Your Misunderstanding
Before I Sought the Light I Was: Entangled in the hurricane of carnal desires whilst fighting against the flow-less and time-consuming isolation that tempted me to stay in my place. I was staring at my own reflection for a number of days, hoping that when I blinked, I would see something change. When nothing did I began dancing into my psyche and peeping through keyhole at the center of my mind and through it I saw an endless battle between the perpetual darkness that loneliness entails and the wet roses of lust. I saw a war break out between the icy lands of my heart and the volcanic eruption of my thoughts. The shadows in the corner sending whispers via pigeons that would get caught in jet engines before they could be delivered to an ear eager to listen. As I stared through that peephole, hardly noticing the door, I wondered--and I wandered, until I was unable to distinguish either.
Entanglement
The water is my home...It is the only place I feel free...I can go anywhere, be anything as long as I kept to myself...It has been years on my own and every once in a while I return to a place I had found happiness. He made me happy until we were kept apart. Now I am free or am I? Just like anyone else I have dreams, dreams to walk, to sing, to dance but those dreams were shattered in an instant or is it. Is it possible to achieve those... I wonder... but I wont stop, I won't stop until those dreams become a reality. It's time to go back home, my real home.Complete
paracosm-delusional nightmares
{poetry : completed} "𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞." in a tiny corner of the world, but in the vast corner of my imagination, this is my paracosmic delusion, something that i've created out of indignant, dejected and euphoric emotions. each word in this book constitutes my delusional nightmares, the ones that i know aren't really there yet i write about them anyway. this is me, my barest and deepest feelings, and my monstrous thoughts. ✦✦✦ [all rights reserved | ©2021 ] [ cover designed by me ] [ peace \/ ]Complete
Serena
I look at him with bewilderment. Emotion floods through me as he looks at me with boredom lacing his eyes. His entire body is calm as he leans against the brick walls and stares down at me. " Oh yeah? Then why did you ignore me today after that moment at the beach? " I say crossing my arms. " What fucking moment? We were all just having some fun. I didn't ignore you, I was busy getting ready for my date. I didn't know the princess needed attention twenty-four seven. " This whole time I have been imagining things? Imagining that he feels the same electricity I do? Growing angry , I take a step forward and our noses barely touch. " Princess? " 2022 #1 in LustComplete
When You Read it, You'll know me
Just words that flow A river in my head It twists and turns And never stays the same The current is strong You can never go back Pen it down And remember The joy of the ride Through the rough bumpy tide That are the words In my mind.Complete
Desolate
For those who belong nowhere, those who walk the face of the earth on their own, carrying their hearts in their palms, holding everyone together while they dissolve into air. So many souls are homeless, may it be their home. May they find peace in knowing they are not alone, if not, at least they won't feel as stray as I once did. The word is haunted. Not by ghosts. By a maybe. By the soft echo of a woman who once lit his path out of darkness. A woman who no longer remembers his name... But who still lives inside every choice he makes. He was not made to follow the rules. He was made to make them. Where a match may light a room, A flame like him sets a whole world ablaze. In this story, Truth wears a mask, and order is just chaos in disguise. His world, at last, reveals its true face, when he sets it on fire.
Bedroom Whispers
The bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were content with the strokes and curves of the fluid dispenser. They seemed to have joined the fast-lane train, and thus demand new meals. While I lay down and hit the keys with a mystic rhythmic sway, I hear the sounds as they hit my ears. No. They're not forceful. Not now, at least. Like music from the slow strumming of a guitar, these sounds bring messages. And memories. And musings. And a medley, sometimes. And so it is, that I'm made to scribe. For when gods speak, their words are immortal. Oh. Wait. They're just thoughts. I thought as much.Complete
an abstract limn
❝ but this time i will not be lifted from the realms of this catastrophe, this time i will be dipped into the honeyed lox of this saccharine thought; drowning in the depths of the wilted tulips that have not ever to sprout. look at these alstroemerias that blossom from the words that spill from my bleeding heart and plum stained lips; apple juice coating the rim of this glass of champagne in which these sinful creatures drown with their blistered wings. now watch as i am coaxed by the orbs of lavender bruises with hands wrapped around my neck.❞ • my abstract poetry book. lowercase intended. ©️ copyright 2020 nazahace - all rights reserved.Complete
Whisper of Silence |✓
Trapped. Surrounded on all sides by an overpowering barrier visible only to you. A barrier consisting of your thoughts, your dreams, your hopes, separating you from the rest of the world. Thoughts struggling to escape, the memories vivid in your head. You're trying to push back the flood of emotion, trying to break down that wall that's separating you from the judgement that awaits you at the other side. Your fears captivate you and morph you into a new person entirely. Surrounded on all sides and breaking into cold perspiration. Enveloping you is that same fear, gripping at your heart. You stand still hoping for the storm to back down, hoping for another chance. Sooner or later you're faced with reality and you'll know there's no turning back. All that remains is a whisper of silence.Complete![The Open Canvas [Poetry]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/138729227-256-k624611.jpg)
The Open Canvas [Poetry]
The canvas is now open It is saturated with the remnants of my emotions and thoughts The canvas is englufed with the flames that burns throughout my mind Leaving the ashes behind The ashes that have now been used to paint the words left unsaid Some of these poems are personal while others were written based on deep issues that affects society as well as books/ music that gave me inspiration to write. Don't fear, its not only depressing poems in here © 2018 All Rights Reserved #death #depression #faith #fulfillment #laugh #love #nature #questions #reality #sadness #thoughtsComplete
Before I Sought the Light I Was: Entangled in the hurricane of carnal desires whilst fighting against the flow-less and time-consuming isolation that tempted me to stay in my place. I was staring at my own reflection for a number of days, hoping that when I blinked, I would see something change. When nothing did I began dancing into my psyche and peeping through keyhole at the center of my mind and through it I saw an endless battle between the perpetual darkness that loneliness entails and the wet roses of lust. I saw a war break out between the icy lands of my heart and the volcanic eruption of my thoughts. The shadows in the corner sending whispers via pigeons that would get caught in jet engines before they could be delivered to an ear eager to listen. As I stared through that peephole, hardly noticing the door, I wondered--and I wandered, until I was unable to distinguish either.
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