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Sirius Jan 2021
It’s 1987.
She’s smiling at the waves cascading,
         looking at a world
                       that didn’t exist.
             In the emollient, rosemary morn’s glow
             pregnant with prickly pear scents,
         a cherry-pickled dress crashed into the foam
                     and up bobbed a nest of blonde.
        Kissed by the wind, and nourished by the sea,
                     I watched my sweetheart flee.
i miss her.
Sirius Feb 2021
I'm eating a burnt omelette
with sides so hard I'd spit them out
and I wonder if I can spit my heart out
maybe then I'd stop feeling
all my feelings
and things wouldn't be so hard
and I wouldn't think
"am I going to snap?"
and then snap
and then pretend like nothing
happened at all.
Sirius Dec 2020
It happens in flashes,
like the hot pangs of sweat
when I wake up in my bed
doused in buckets of ice.

Like when the air hits your face
riding the highway.

My breath is lost in heaves,
I can't think - I can't think -
of anything except the littlest
and the morning cold
inching up the gaps of her pajamas.

Until the memory of his eyes assaulting
the places I'd not have them
stare at
claws at me.

I can't take it anymore.
Sirius Dec 2020
I'm sitting at the bottom of the pool.
       The chlorine stings;
the mesh of blue tastes like skin.
Like the privates of some bodies
daring to seep into the flakes.

            It's so peaceful here.
The allegro of my heart- thump. thump. thump.
(thump-thump-thump-thump)
blocks out the voices
       rippling above.  
Children cackling,
a mother moaning,
    a lifeguard crying.    
          
     I open my mouth
                                    to let the roofied indigo flush my body
like codeine on my droughted tongue,                          
so we have no secrets.
So I am not the only one to see the ugly.            
                                    Water slides off my *******, thighs,
and all the parts of me the mirror doesn't see,
until everything around me is water
             taking away the hotness from my cheeks;
I almost travel time -
palming my wrinkled fingers and toes -
which crumble like chrysanthemums.

The view wavers
and I quint to the dissociating shiny, yellow arms,
giggling when they tickle my voided pits.

I feel like sleeping,
but I think I need a breath?
A little sputter - a small gasp.

Better come up before I drown.
I'm sad
Sirius Mar 2021
I love the control
of painting my forearm
with swollen ribbons
imprinted on skin.
        They tingle when hidden
       begging to be exposed to sparkles
of a sun.
    Like the little creature living inside
  my heart.
       A nightingale
with daggers for wings
   slicing into my liver
     singing her song
which goes “the end –
    the end is coming,
          – the end –
     the end is near.”
And I’ll hold her close at dawn
singing our song;
just two kindred spirits
waiting to die alone.
when I think about my future, I see blood. But mostly, it's just...dark. pretty ******* horrible imo
Sirius Mar 2021
It gets easier every day
to drag the stainless steel
across my forearm.

          And I get closer every day
        to slicing it across my veins
            and paddle in puddles of putrid red;
         but I'm not supposed to feel what I feel
       at every pretty pink sunrise
       and freckled night skies.

I trudge through days
wishing for night to come
only to wake up to another one;
a million more nights
of having dreams of a world beyond
this fuckery.
Sirius Jan 2021
One day, my head will hang loose.
in a shredded, old noose. The apartment will be empty;
sick whimpers in the cold.
A chair sits – with a sagging face,
      waiting to be toppled from
under me.
      
Right time – right motivation –
right moment.
My skin will be hot, and my veins will be blue;
I’ll close moist eyes, lips thin, hoping for painless death
to come true.
        I think, I’ll feel renewed.
             Only to find my legs kicking
         from under me – like I’m drowning in an ocean
           of unoxygenated ecstasy.

Laughing at the pathetic attempts of my body fighting pure
    misery.
“Not strong enough,” they’d whisper; I’ll prove them wrong
and grab peace by the neck
        like the noose
        did to me.

She’ll come home at 10 to find the lights on;
hit the door and scream of forgotten vengeance
only to find a nobody had died
and cry and cry and cry
till her eyes are dry.
Sirius Jan 2021
you needed me, and I was there                                
                        cause a friend cannot help but only care.                            
                        now I shiver, and shake, and cut                                              
                                 cause the daymares are multiplying –                      
                   but I can’t type a sentence anymore,                              
                                 at least not to you.                    
          I’m too afraid of what you’ll say                      
                                         or think or judge
                                                     but anyway,                                                
         ­                              it’s not worth the hassle – me.                        
                          live your life, let me be.
Sirius Jan 2021
Bubbles popped atop
a ****** tongue;
Digging into my lungs
               like sour milk.
Nails of whiskey scents            
grappled at a hickey-d neck,
pulling harder at swollen pipes.
With every swig
she laughed,
I cried.
So long I existed
there wasn't much difference
between death, and life.

— The End —