I don't wear winter
like a crystalline dress
made of silver sequins and frosted lace
clinging to glittered skin
I wear it like rough abrasive hospital gowns
made of bleached out blood stains
exposing frigid pale flesh
I don't inhale and exhale peppermint
with a candy coated sugar plum pout
sighing swirls of hot cocoa steam
I breathe in razorblade ice shards
with collapsed lungs
choking and gasping for air
I don't walk through fields of fresh fallen snow
leaving crushed diamonds under each footstep
with a chiffon sparkled scarf flowing behind
I lay alone hushed inside myself
shivering soul hidden under a pile of blankets
hoping someday to feel warmth again
you don't like the way I wear winter
neither do I
Outside the city where the pomegranates grow
I can see an isolated house whose doors move to and fro
But sometimes I wonder how can the doors move if there no wind blows
And if there is something than why there nobody goes?
And in the night's darkness if there none of us lives how the bulb glows
Sometimes I am able to hear the voices flow
And it makes me scared and I get in need to go to my mamma's room door
And sometimes in the morning I can see there a black crow
Which till the night rapidly goes
It sometimes make my mind say "lets go"
And then the wind blows
And it whispers " please stay here, there nobody goes"
She lives in fear of the imminent fall
that will surely leave her in tatters,
for porcelain bruises easily and
hearts are prone to shatter
So she wraps herself in velvet ropes
and holds within her clutch
a sign that reads clearly for all to see:
Do Not Touch
Those old stories you never thought to be true .
Fucked up fairy tales two busted marriages you do not know me so dont pretend to.understand.
A needle a promise .
A busted nose bloodstains left behind and lies to fill the spaces inbetween.
You can think the reason never knowing the answer theres more to a friendship than a title yeah sweetheart im speaking to you.
Erase my pages but we cannot forget that night .
Alone the shit still stings shadows in candle light give romance to a grand illusion .
Im nothimg outside the page and you just what i made of you.
A romance lasts years and a cancer can linger just the same.
Both will kill you just the same so grow up quick kids and lose the delusions before it blinds your reason.
The thought is all that matters and the page its final resting place .
Goodnight for now.
A parting kiss another one night stand .
Its just a view from my world .
I've paid my dues ten fold.
And i can forget more than most will learn.
It was always there I just had to live to find it.
Fuck the edge I dove of it years ago
We all find are truths jaded with time .
Words faded sands built up over time and we erase the person so only the legend stands.
Remorse is best kept silent.
Dont ever let them know you.
Or your fucked when it comes to the page.
No matter how hard you try it always bleeds through.
With snow up to my ass and a relentless bitter cold
that penetrates the snow-bound crust to the earthen marrow
This frozen moment crawls naked , coursing knee deep
through overwhelming sparseness of shivery barebones
Disheveled subterranean depths sleep like the decadence
a heart long forgotten , arrest in its own neglected silence
Winterlude and a newly befallen atrophy
takes this desolate hillside to an uncommon abyss
Benumbing aloneness bespeaks in onomatopoeia ;
the only voices heard in eons are the birds' chirrups
and coyote's urgent appeal
for life sustaining needs
The brumal words of apathetic pleads
tersely thaw the moment,...
murmurs unto the heavens echo,
splintering the probing silence :
" You who are my home ― My salvation lies in your love "
The melancholy air thickens ―
The fleeting birds startlingly scatter
like the rising cloud of spoken breath
that wisps across these raw cracked and chapped lips
unsettling the silence
Overwearied, alone again in a biting polar darkness
Sunlit hues of snowbound white on white echo off
the wasted time I’m living frozen in ―
Moonset ricochets a gut wrenching Déjà vu ,
an abhorred circle repeats as I can’t even remember
the last time I saw bare pavement ,
nor when the dreams wearyingly stopped ―
The hidden reasons
too loathe to remember ― too loathe to forget
I can’t even remember that last time at the end of the road ;
or was it the beginning or another circle's blurred lines of fleeting time ?
It's a long and twisted road I've been walking on ―
the unfathomable map but a wadded up paper dream
The fir boughs hang down , propped up by the wintry ground ,
entombed by the heavy burden of gravity, ice and snow
My tongue is frozen to these raw unspoken words ...
Ink pen like a chalice of ice-cold stifled heart filled with algid ink ,
unable to rise up as reflected light so bright echoes
in blinding uncharted lumens .
When twilight illuminates the frigid tundra ,
the snow hangs heavy like the weight of burden’s despair.
Such primordial enchantment , a facade to the chattering teeth
of elemental misery ; the grasping , clasping choke hold
of single digit desolation , a contradiction of the harsh realities
a fickle infatuation with the beauty of an affecting moment
harlon rivers ... January 15th, 2017
As much as I love my scars,
I realized that I don't want any more wounds
my skin stopped looking like art
cracks and spaces
filled my body that it isn't intricate anymore,
it's just empty.
but despite this void
when you called, my voice trembling, I answered
and you came
I let you in
I let you read
how each hollow space came to be
I should've warned you that empty words wouldn't fill these empty parts
maybe I trusted you too much to know
and it's late and I can hear whatever resolve I have left crumbling
the vessel is empty
but before I clothe in walls again
I'm telling you
that you can't fix me
but that doesn't mean that I need more breaking.
this too-bleak darkness
blinds me, dumbs me down
stomps me into wine
stops me in, to whine
Kills me alive
Thrashing like a hive
No wonder so
many want to
the nasty, awful cycle
I was I was done
I wish I was with all of you
but no one knew ever
the other side is better
no, just try to
you're still here
Dozens of faces flash before my eyes
one after another after another after
the coerced autonomy of being in a crowd
a sea of bodies crashing over me in a single, cohesive wave:
the individual is absent and rather dead
in its attempts at surviving the return of
collective chatter, repulsing reunions--
may my isolation rest in peace.
To whom it may concern.
To anyone who remembers me.
I bet you thought I was dead,
hidden in this house of lunacy.
You had me brought here,
so this letter to you I pen.
This place is cold and sterile,
I can't wait to be free again.
Was it for my own safety?
Or was it to safeguard yours?
I cannot recall the problem now,
my mind is stuck on pause.
They fill me up with pills,
keep my head in narcotic haze.
I have a Soft and secure room
to while and smile away the days.
It will be good to see your faces
when they finally let me home.
I wish one of you would write,
or call me on the telephone.
Why do you never come and visit
The Moontouched man so mad?
I'm sorry you saw my melt-down,
sorry it made You feel that bad?
I hope you will read this letter,
the pen and paper I had to borrow.
But the drugs are starting to work,
I'm so drowsy, so tired...
I'll have to finish this tomorrow...
© Pagan Paul (01/01/17)