tainted_soul

what i would do is eat parsnips. lots of parsnips. parsnips, parsnips, parsnips.

puppy dogs get shaved by the blind man with razor scars they bleed from the inside they get in the plastic bag to die all over the sidewalk fragile petals flounder in the wind throwing up on the baby in the stroller to hold one, dying, in your hand sharp needles go too deep merging with the backdrop bruised and shattered the woman walks alone the children cry in the night for the lost souls the darkness keeps pay them no heed the end is coming the end is coming the end is coming

i listened to cannibal corpse one time....and from that small uninformed glimpse i decided that i don't like em, sorry. maybe i'd like the lyrics, but honestly they sing so damn fast i couldn't understand what they were singin'. i'll say one thing, though- they've got endurance. but, no, i don't, this is uninfluenced by anything except my own mind. (scary, huh?) sorry if it's a bit of a shOCK for some people to read something like that, buuutttt... break out of your shells! damn your fauvist puppy dogs and sailboats..... urban decay!!!!!

i am your own body cut me open let me live dissection in the name of science for your own missgivings take this sorrow place it somewhere on a rack with my beating heart still bleeding stainless steel cold envelopes the room take home to me your paper bag so i can drink until the world is safe again medications headaches splinterings vomit flowing through scum teeth the harder now my veins are forming lock me up so i don't have to see the daylight i'll sit and fester in someone else's coffin as the cockroaches crawl through my legs you think i'm safe when i'm finally dead? no! even then they come to cut me open to rape my battered corpse cremate me

mmm... you WANT to stop? well, that's good. i never wanted to stop. it was more of a forced thing... i dunno, the caffiene thing sounds like trading one addiction for another, though everyone's probably addicted to caffiene by now anyway, and that's pretty harmless in comparison. if you don't want anyone to know and you want to try to stop all by yourself (or with help in anonymity...or whatever that word is...anonymousness) then best of luck, i have no idea. your best bet is to talk to a counselor if you really want to stop no matter what, though you'll have to get over the addiction by yourself, it just helps to have someone to talk to.

i feel as though this is not real. i feel as though every time i make a mistake, i have not really done it but that i am seeing what might have happened if i was not so lucky. but the real me continues on and i can't trace him. this has happened so many times that i know i must no longer be the real me, but branches and branches apart, someone the real me has forgotten ever existed, because, in fact, i never did. none of this has happened, and i am far ahead and happy in life, wherever i may be by now. but i feel myself reaching out and grasping for this real me, that somehow we might become one again, but always it cannot be, for in the split second that this happens we have already become separate, and i watch myself continue on, while i branch off, a transparent wraith, doomed forever to walk the roads of what horrors might have been, and in the end to flicker and die, nothing more than a forgotten possibility, something that never had a future because this life that i am living has never really existed. i cannot see what has happened and will happen with my true self, who is enjoying life somewhere in the future as we speak. and every second i reach for that life instead of this one, in a desperate, futile hope, as i become more and more lost as to where and who i am, and what it is now that i am supposed to do, living in an underworld, a smallish reality that no one can see.

that...is a good poem. it's incredibly well expressed and it draws you in. what i love about it is that it's not just some generic poem about death or love or hate or puppy dogs and sailboats...it's about love AND hate and death and depression and... it's slightly creepy and a little spine-tingling. anyway, it's great, keep writing

strangled children play in the streets naked, bruised, and beaten as they walk along they are picked up by their feet, by their necks by their ankles, by their wrists and thrown into the piles at the end of every street

controversial? i guess maybe cause the swearing? it's strongly worded cause....that's how i word things. and it somes from strong emotions, though i'm still not exactly sure what they are. anyone else think it's offensive somehow? lemme know. seriously, throw me something. i'll try to avoid swearing, abc man. or i'll just not post the ones with swearing...that sounds easier.

thank you captain obvious (dee4whatever...) if you're worried, seriously worried, that you might actually go too far, then you do need to talk to someone. maybe you don't want to, but i think you know that you have to. if you don't trust anyone in your family (sometimes a wise decision) then go to a clinic or something, they have these things called social workers, or call some hotline...or even just someone online, on the site, something, though it's nice to talk to a real person. it shouldn't have gotten so bad that you have to cut in the first place, but when it becomes an addiction, then you have problems. unfortunately, very few people are willing to treat it as an addiction, thinking the person is at fault for everything and can stop at any time. i know it's not like that, but being around people who make you feel ashamed of what you're doing isn't good. i know what you mean when you say you kind of want to stop. you want to stop, but you don't want to have to let anyone else know about it. unfortunately, it's very likely that at some point you may have to. you can't let that stop you. if you know you need help, then you need to get it, before it does become too late.

he said she's a son of a grade she said take carts he licks face who turn when he deserve to die who turn when she deserve to die who turns like a jaw burns like a flame promises knocked cold who plays a game top s*** of sun of old he takes licks in flakes tough s*** he deserve too bold she lake ticks like bakes he said she's a son of a failure she said he's a son of a trailer no one turns to watch them fry no one turns to watch them fry she takes her rope a ball and chain laugh a spot and turn a gain top shelf of cold floor dusty smelts rock lap in f*** he takes her yelps take a turn now watch it burn now take a beating it's your eating you cannot chose now a force for you now wash your hands now when you're through it's so deceiving tender eating the comfort in the black and used we're all the talkers we cannot walk hers you take a ride and then you're through

would you please stop pissing all over my face there's never room enough for us two we all take babies, come inside now the graves must run through everyone runs from the sun inside, we make time take to ground all we have found inside, we can't hide come and drown in the sound underneath we take to theives run through stairways we fall over falling far through iron sieves we take to hatchets and hangovers everyone runs from the sun take a time out far from white out take to stealing for your own bore drowing deeper crumbling creeper f****d and begging on the floor

damn good. it's the best on the subject manner i've ever read. and expresses the feelings....exactly. YEAH!

hey i'm not whining about my failed realtionships. i just think your whining is annoying and a waste of space. and, god damn, it's "you're"! Y-O-U-'-R-E!, as in "you are," not "your." when you want to diss someone else, do it right!

um...was there a point to that? yeah, you sure told them....stop whining about other people's whining, all this whining is givin me a headache will someone post something intelligent? pleeeeaase?

what the hell... as soon as you said that everyone just about blew their heads off yelling "NOOOOOOO!" which is good. what's bad is that lots of the people yelling are telling you this because they can't stop doing it themselves, and they don't wish that on anyone. because it is an addiction, and a serious one. if you haven't started seriously cutting, get out now. i'm one of the people who stopped, who was forced to against my own will. but it sticks with you. if you don't deal with whatever makes you want to bleed out on the floor and die, you're stuck with it. listen to all these people. don't just brush them off cause they won't tell you where the best "tang" is. (um..... yeah i thought the answer was kind of obvious, but i'l follow the leader and shut my mouth) get out now!!! before the evil demon sent from hell kills you and frames you for your own murder!

take these hands and make them mine we kill each other all the time you take your bags and go away come back some distant sunny day i'm lost without your flowing skin i long to touch your face again and leave it all behind we can't ever leave the past behind

i can't take this under the knife again bleeding out on the table watching myself die everyday like a personal hell where you can't scream no matter how much it hurts you have to stand up stright and smile don't flinch don't fall pretend that everything's ok or that it will be someday

ok i used to cut. you don't want to go there. first of all- the scars are going to stick with you your entire life. they don't go away. second- i understand what you mean by the bursts of anger thing. me too. dunno if that has anything to do with cutting. cutting doesn't make it any better. and it's not something that goes away after you stop. third- get someone to talk to. even if it's just online. .... i can't even begin to say how much that has helped me. (you know who you are.) fourth- eventually you will slip up. eventually some one will notice. you don't want someone who will freak and blow it out of proportion to notice. like, say, parents for example. take my word for it. (this is called "learning from other people's screwups." you want to pay attention to that.) fifth- it's an addiction. i think canada said something about that. yeah. sixth- nothing will ever replace cutting. but you have to find something to do besides that. like, i write semi-disturbing poems and stories, and beat the s out of my drumset. [/i]

i'm the kid who walks down the street saying "f you" over and over. you think it's a useful way to sort out your problems? don't gimme that crap. it causes more problems than it solves. hell, i'm about going out of my mind, but at least my family is off my back. life is a little social game ok? if you say f everyone and don't play by their rules, then you're screwed. and it's not a game you can just join in. i know you do want to fit in because you ask why people look down on you. face it- people will never accept cutting. yeah, i'm being harsh, but the truth sucks. you have to play by people's little pointless rules if you want to be accepted. nobody said be a clone. and i realize there's no real substitue. life sucks. get used to it, and quit whining.

hey i think it's a nice poem. didn't think it was for school the first time i read it, there's just a little bit of anger and despair in there. (feelin that sarcasm) but it's good, and hopefully your teacher won't label you someone she has to "talk to." lol

thanks. and no, i've never published anything, though i've thought about it (i can't just put them on here, a lot of mine would get deleted for the language). i'd like to publish something eventually, but i don't really consider poems of any real importance (not enough for publishing). They're simply an easy way to express myself.

"nothing" something, something my eyes are numb and silence stumbles on waiting for the car in a silent, sheering rain stand back from the corner don't get sucked into the drain nothing, nothing waiting off the corner for a bus that never came scratching my umbrella wipe away the pain buildings' blank stares behind the rain something, something the building on my back going up to nowhere endlessly building on black nobody's coming where is this place how long have i been waiting there's nothing, nothing

standing here on a cold bridge it's night and there's lots of fog everything's black, yet the lights glowing globes dot the bridge and give sheltering light to the road the wind blows a little a little whisper to my ear i can't hear what it's saying but the sound makes me uncertain there's no one else around the bridge is long can't see the end, not quite there's no one there either looking over and through the hanging bars can't even see the water below can't even remember what i was thinking about which way to go but i can't decide it's peaceful here but i can't enjoy it feeling like i have to go somewhere and i'm not sure where glance over the bridge again long stare at the invisible darkness you can get lost staring over the bridge forget your guilt or pain staring down but eventually you come back to this your thoughts turn back to the uneasiness there's somewhere you have to go something you have to do here you stand on this cold bridge your sense of time is lost a sense of time lost a sense of despair how long have you been standing here? how long will you stand here still? you'll never decide you know it yet you stand here waiting clinging to hope forever fading clutching frantically to the thought that maybe somehow you'll know what to do slowly your thoughts turn back to the fog looking over the side of the bridge through the cables, staring down through the fog the empty darkness and the water below

thanks for the good comments