i live in a coffin, ready and waiting. sometimes people bring me oxygen to breathe a little b it longer, longer, longer. time gets too old and tiring, and sometimes i don’t want that oxygen anymore. but i’ll wait it out.
unknown
Death is the ultimate scare for me. I would rather eat a hundred raw scorpions than have to know when I die. The prospect of knowing the date of my death makes my stomach churn and eyes water up. I think about my funeral and the pain in my friends and family’s souls and it shatters my heart. I don’t want that. I don’t want a funeral. I want a prom instead.
Ashley Berken
box for dead folk final nail sneezin
Snoop Doug
Damn…that word today…My son died, by suicide almost 5 months ago. 22nd was his birthdate and now also his deathdate. Today has been a hard day for me. I just wish I could have taken away his pain, so I never ever had to see him in a coffin. He was 19, almost 20.
Paula
sigh, nobody likes this word, or the item itself. Its a permanent bed, one I’m not looking forward to, although many times I have made moves to “go to sleep early”. They can be beautiful, works of art lost in the earth, with the story written inside of them, lost just the same.
Ika
i thought i would know no hurt in this quiet place below. but here there is nothing but time to think and the sounds of infinite sadness from the lonely souls around me. they weep as i do but who knows if they chose this too. their tortured cries suggest…
B
You like to think of yourself
As a place of rebirth,
like a bus stop where souls rest
and somehow see God
But you aren’t, and I think you see
That your heart is a coffin
Holding the murdered victim of your mind
That all the clever words in the world
Could never bring back
[and that’s why I punish you]
fullmetalguitar
The coffin housed all the love that I had ever given to anyone. It caged it, and ensured I would never receive it back. Above the coffin sat pounds of dirt, which was crawling with worms and magnets. And atop that dirt, small children, who I will never once meet, pranced and ran in the morning sun.
Kati
die death burried in the ground vampires bats blood corpse morbid wrech bugs maggots wood nails cross funeral sad bed dieing laid to rest
laura
Oh, schöne Tasse.
Nein, wirklich, ich finde sie echt…extravagant…oder etwas in der Art, wirklich!
Nein, glaub mir doch!
Hey, nein, das nicht, lass das bitte!
Lass es, ahhhh, Schatz, meine Hose, nein, Mensch, ach.
Schöne Tasse…
Galinor
He opened the coffin and I sprang up, gasping for breath. “How dare you lock me in there!” I scream at him. The man gives me a wry smile and throws the shovel to the side. He lends a hand and I take it. I step out and smile.
“I love you.”
Alicia
Du begräbst dich. Baust dir deinen eigenen Sarg, legst dich nieder und machst den Deckel zu. Dann zerfließt dein Atem und die letzte Welle bricht. Du bist still. So einfach war das. Und auf dem Holz liegt nur eine einzelne Blume, denn außer dir selbst vermisst dich keiner.
Glaubst du.
Pim
Drink it, lay down and rest. Smell your life while ypu drive away on a formation of coral-sand sensorial waves; a nice trip.
Kaizar
tears drip down her face
the knife piercing her soft skin,
exposing hot blood
and she falls into the coffin
with no goodbye.
apoet'sfingertips
Bicycle coffin. That’s what I saw on TV last night. What’s that, you say? It’s what a carpenter built, and a designer rejected as being too weird for a loft he was redesigning. I agree: a bicycle coffin is entirely too weird a concept or a reality.
Michelle
there’s a guy in my school that evrybody hates. (me too.)
he and his sisters used to play hide and seek in coffins.
i think they still do.
josi
I imagine a lovely funeral with a thin, dark wooded coffin with white lilies atop it. The family adorned in black with silent tears running down their cheeks, holding white hankerchiefs. The priest speaks the eulogy and no other sound can be heard except for the birds quietly singing in the background behind the large fir trees.
Samantha
Weezing, hideawayregrets, dusty webs to be destroyed.
Coffin up our memories.
Myona
Chain-and-nail,
she scrapes her fingers across the lid,
screaming,
crying,
hurting…
So much pain,
and all she thinks is,
“This isn’t how I’m supposed to die.
This isn’t how it’s meant to be.
Why won’t someone come?”
But no one knows she’s there.
It was a hide-and-seek gone wrong;
the box was open.
It was perfect.
But it wasn’t meant for her.
She just wanted to disappear.
Beth
The box is like a coffin of the past, enclosed with everything that I left behind. Little accessories I used to love playing with, papers filled with words that I will never see again. It will be buried forever in the graveyard of memories.
Annie
Messy and dark. Can be considered I have been “coffin” for days and can’t seem to stop.
A nice place to sleep/ take a nap.
T
The lurid red streaks emerge… The perfect skin that once sheltered her raw inside is now marred by marks that remind her of someone desperately scratching the lid of a coffin in which they lie still unimaginably conscious.
Katie
My eyes are closed. Above I can hear voices. Am I still in the hospital? I open my eyes to the darkness. Where am I? I reach out to touch the polised wood and silken velvet of my own coffin.
Sophie
death comes to mind when i see coffin, because what else goes in it? this early summer my friends dad passed away, and i went to the funeral with him. It was hard to comfort him, because once he came face to face with him, all he did was sob. it was hard for me too.
Sally Palomino
The coffin was made of maple, and it was polished to the nth degree. It made me sad to look at it because she was in there, and I couldn’t handle the thought of never seeing her again.
Mo
Death. Life. Death. Life. Both are so hand in hand. You cannot have one with out the other. With death, there is always life. With life, there is always death. Coffin. Death. Life. Coffin. The coffin is the end all of life. At the end, you’re in the coffin. Game over. What you do til you get to the coffin is what truly matters.
Christopher Ring
coffin is tea pot. When you get thirsty and would like to drink tea you need to have tea coffin. It’s absolute helpful for your thirstiness.
erhan
The coffin was shut tightly. I didn’t want to know what was inside. John told me I would be like this. I can’t make any noise he told me. If I did, we would both be caught. I just looked away in disdain.
jamaica
there is only one place that you can lay your head to rest that there is a promise of never being distrubed for the rest of your life. when they say rest in peace… it means lay in eternal peace. that place is a coffin.
sc
I saw his face, I saw his hands. I saw the fingers that had tickled and stroked my hair. I saw his eyelashes, and his nose and lips. I saw everything about him, exactly as I remembered it. But when I put the pieces together, the man laying in that coffin looked nothing like my brother.
Kim
coffin, like satin in one. coffin, like to carry around your treasures. who carries coffins? i could, you do. scars keep what we fear could come back. scars could be kept in coffins and it may be easier to keep scars in coffins anyway– to keep the permanent in the disposable, undisposable box…
jess
he sat up from his bed, his coffin, and thought about the girl he met just the day before. A human girl. He was thirsty thinking about her, but for once in his life he wasn’t sure if it was for her blood or her company.
Amber
in a movie i saw in spanish class there was this kid being smuggled across the border and he had to stay in a coffin… this kid was like 7 years old. crazy.
danaë
in a movie i saw in spanish class there was this kid being smuggled across the border and he had to stay in a coffin… this kid was like 7 years old. crazy.
danaë
the coffin was too small to fit all that she had requested. clothing, shoes, books, jewelry…basically everything she cared about. all she cared about were the superficial items in her life and she didn’t plan to leave anything behind that meant something to her. this was why so much of her family had abandoned her. she couldn’t go beyond the items in her life to see what truly mattered. her taking everything to the beyond was a testament to that.
chelsea
im not the one you want, i will always let you down. but please dont let me fall into pieces. this coffin is my sanctuary. i am sorry for my self.
Alexis
Wood paneling on the inside of the car door.
Broken watch on the side of the road.
The hearse moves slowly through the crowd.
Everyone wants to get a glimpse.
Tatiana Rutledge
coughin’, coughin’
a match, a light
a smoke
another nail
in the coffin
coughin’
coughin’
coughin’
clvngodess
now thats not fair, i plan to be cremated. Though i suppose i simply do not care about coffins…no not even your grandma’s. The thing is, there is way more to thought then limiting it to a coffin constriction
Dean Seifert
movement..
halts
and you none the wiser..between the two of us…
there’s a still
light
less than ever..
i live in a coffin, ready and waiting. sometimes people bring me oxygen to breathe a little b it longer, longer, longer. time gets too old and tiring, and sometimes i don’t want that oxygen anymore. but i’ll wait it out.
Death is the ultimate scare for me. I would rather eat a hundred raw scorpions than have to know when I die. The prospect of knowing the date of my death makes my stomach churn and eyes water up. I think about my funeral and the pain in my friends and family’s souls and it shatters my heart. I don’t want that. I don’t want a funeral. I want a prom instead.
box for dead folk final nail sneezin
Damn…that word today…My son died, by suicide almost 5 months ago. 22nd was his birthdate and now also his deathdate. Today has been a hard day for me. I just wish I could have taken away his pain, so I never ever had to see him in a coffin. He was 19, almost 20.
sigh, nobody likes this word, or the item itself. Its a permanent bed, one I’m not looking forward to, although many times I have made moves to “go to sleep early”. They can be beautiful, works of art lost in the earth, with the story written inside of them, lost just the same.
i thought i would know no hurt in this quiet place below. but here there is nothing but time to think and the sounds of infinite sadness from the lonely souls around me. they weep as i do but who knows if they chose this too. their tortured cries suggest…
You like to think of yourself
As a place of rebirth,
like a bus stop where souls rest
and somehow see God
But you aren’t, and I think you see
That your heart is a coffin
Holding the murdered victim of your mind
That all the clever words in the world
Could never bring back
[and that’s why I punish you]
The coffin housed all the love that I had ever given to anyone. It caged it, and ensured I would never receive it back. Above the coffin sat pounds of dirt, which was crawling with worms and magnets. And atop that dirt, small children, who I will never once meet, pranced and ran in the morning sun.
die death burried in the ground vampires bats blood corpse morbid wrech bugs maggots wood nails cross funeral sad bed dieing laid to rest
Oh, schöne Tasse.
Nein, wirklich, ich finde sie echt…extravagant…oder etwas in der Art, wirklich!
Nein, glaub mir doch!
Hey, nein, das nicht, lass das bitte!
Lass es, ahhhh, Schatz, meine Hose, nein, Mensch, ach.
Schöne Tasse…
He opened the coffin and I sprang up, gasping for breath. “How dare you lock me in there!” I scream at him. The man gives me a wry smile and throws the shovel to the side. He lends a hand and I take it. I step out and smile.
“I love you.”
Du begräbst dich. Baust dir deinen eigenen Sarg, legst dich nieder und machst den Deckel zu. Dann zerfließt dein Atem und die letzte Welle bricht. Du bist still. So einfach war das. Und auf dem Holz liegt nur eine einzelne Blume, denn außer dir selbst vermisst dich keiner.
Glaubst du.
Drink it, lay down and rest. Smell your life while ypu drive away on a formation of coral-sand sensorial waves; a nice trip.
tears drip down her face
the knife piercing her soft skin,
exposing hot blood
and she falls into the coffin
with no goodbye.
Bicycle coffin. That’s what I saw on TV last night. What’s that, you say? It’s what a carpenter built, and a designer rejected as being too weird for a loft he was redesigning. I agree: a bicycle coffin is entirely too weird a concept or a reality.
there’s a guy in my school that evrybody hates. (me too.)
he and his sisters used to play hide and seek in coffins.
i think they still do.
I imagine a lovely funeral with a thin, dark wooded coffin with white lilies atop it. The family adorned in black with silent tears running down their cheeks, holding white hankerchiefs. The priest speaks the eulogy and no other sound can be heard except for the birds quietly singing in the background behind the large fir trees.
Weezing, hideawayregrets, dusty webs to be destroyed.
Coffin up our memories.
Chain-and-nail,
she scrapes her fingers across the lid,
screaming,
crying,
hurting…
So much pain,
and all she thinks is,
“This isn’t how I’m supposed to die.
This isn’t how it’s meant to be.
Why won’t someone come?”
But no one knows she’s there.
It was a hide-and-seek gone wrong;
the box was open.
It was perfect.
But it wasn’t meant for her.
She just wanted to disappear.
The box is like a coffin of the past, enclosed with everything that I left behind. Little accessories I used to love playing with, papers filled with words that I will never see again. It will be buried forever in the graveyard of memories.
Messy and dark. Can be considered I have been “coffin” for days and can’t seem to stop.
A nice place to sleep/ take a nap.
The lurid red streaks emerge… The perfect skin that once sheltered her raw inside is now marred by marks that remind her of someone desperately scratching the lid of a coffin in which they lie still unimaginably conscious.
My eyes are closed. Above I can hear voices. Am I still in the hospital? I open my eyes to the darkness. Where am I? I reach out to touch the polised wood and silken velvet of my own coffin.
death comes to mind when i see coffin, because what else goes in it? this early summer my friends dad passed away, and i went to the funeral with him. It was hard to comfort him, because once he came face to face with him, all he did was sob. it was hard for me too.
The coffin was made of maple, and it was polished to the nth degree. It made me sad to look at it because she was in there, and I couldn’t handle the thought of never seeing her again.
Death. Life. Death. Life. Both are so hand in hand. You cannot have one with out the other. With death, there is always life. With life, there is always death. Coffin. Death. Life. Coffin. The coffin is the end all of life. At the end, you’re in the coffin. Game over. What you do til you get to the coffin is what truly matters.
coffin is tea pot. When you get thirsty and would like to drink tea you need to have tea coffin. It’s absolute helpful for your thirstiness.
The coffin was shut tightly. I didn’t want to know what was inside. John told me I would be like this. I can’t make any noise he told me. If I did, we would both be caught. I just looked away in disdain.
there is only one place that you can lay your head to rest that there is a promise of never being distrubed for the rest of your life. when they say rest in peace… it means lay in eternal peace. that place is a coffin.
I saw his face, I saw his hands. I saw the fingers that had tickled and stroked my hair. I saw his eyelashes, and his nose and lips. I saw everything about him, exactly as I remembered it. But when I put the pieces together, the man laying in that coffin looked nothing like my brother.
coffin, like satin in one. coffin, like to carry around your treasures. who carries coffins? i could, you do. scars keep what we fear could come back. scars could be kept in coffins and it may be easier to keep scars in coffins anyway– to keep the permanent in the disposable, undisposable box…
he sat up from his bed, his coffin, and thought about the girl he met just the day before. A human girl. He was thirsty thinking about her, but for once in his life he wasn’t sure if it was for her blood or her company.
in a movie i saw in spanish class there was this kid being smuggled across the border and he had to stay in a coffin… this kid was like 7 years old. crazy.
in a movie i saw in spanish class there was this kid being smuggled across the border and he had to stay in a coffin… this kid was like 7 years old. crazy.
the coffin was too small to fit all that she had requested. clothing, shoes, books, jewelry…basically everything she cared about. all she cared about were the superficial items in her life and she didn’t plan to leave anything behind that meant something to her. this was why so much of her family had abandoned her. she couldn’t go beyond the items in her life to see what truly mattered. her taking everything to the beyond was a testament to that.
im not the one you want, i will always let you down. but please dont let me fall into pieces. this coffin is my sanctuary. i am sorry for my self.
Wood paneling on the inside of the car door.
Broken watch on the side of the road.
The hearse moves slowly through the crowd.
Everyone wants to get a glimpse.
coughin’, coughin’
a match, a light
a smoke
another nail
in the coffin
coughin’
coughin’
coughin’
now thats not fair, i plan to be cremated. Though i suppose i simply do not care about coffins…no not even your grandma’s. The thing is, there is way more to thought then limiting it to a coffin constriction
movement..
halts
and you none the wiser..between the two of us…
there’s a still
light
less than ever..
a peace tangible
available to taste…just on the tip of your…