She is drawn to SATAN like an addict to heroin
She burns her fingertips, edging them into candle wax, mourning in the absence of Lucifer
“Dear valentine “she cries in the stark midnight, she won’t give in this time
She licks her raven shot gun, lining all the bullets in the form of pentagram
All she can hear is ringing in her head, he has made her weak,
Dangly calves, wrists scarred, teeth marks on her neck & heart scattered-
Like the ashes of his past lover’s
Traits of an incubus, seducing naïve women
Toying with their hearts, Masking his destructive tendencies, like a Russian politician
Eyes all pleasant lies, lips uttering praises for the rival’s spoken lines
Rough sex wont her mind, her heart wont subdue to his crimes
She is a fighter, he is a sinner
Smoke edged fingertips, lips turning into a wicked glee, bow down to the madhouse queen
Insanity is a welcomed relief, freedom from his infidelity
Pressing on the lever, pointed directly at his cerebrum
“Venomous mind, you should’ve have never thrown your heart in confines, you would have been alive”
CRACK! Led by a passage of dead silence, later morphed into scavengers screeching and agile flapping of inky wings.
Dark side feels a lot more attractive when your naive,but when you have tasted it,you want to run.
Grant me the ablepsia of Claudius:
Keen miserable sight acts only as my bier.
Let me greet my evils, in innocent breath,
"My friends, my friends, how have you come here?"
And call them to dice after ordering their death.
Ignorance not inane but a sip from the Lethe
Laurel from my head I freely thus bequeath.
The allusions primarily refer to Suetonius' Lives of the Caesars and Seneca's Apocolocyntosis. The original quote comes from Seneca's satire where, upon encountering those he's executed, after descending to the underworld, Claudius, clueless, exclaims, "πάντα φίλων πγήρη! quomodo huc venistis vos?”-- The world's full of my friends! How have you all come to this place?
Goodbye.
Yesterday, tomorrow
the life before was.
I’ve met you before
as we sat down
i watched worlds align
in your movements
and stars become
black holes
in jealousy
you are beautiful
you are beauty
we drank the night
to day;
dizzy, star-struck,
watching time stop
in our swaying movements
too bad
she couldn’t hold her liquor
our drunken timelines
intersected
in stumbled
introspect
skipping steps
i enjoyed
our spinning thoughts
and tongues sharing
aged language
alongside new bottles
until i was forced
to watch her phase
in and out
of herself
that moon bitch
must’ve had more
than she could handle,
because the next day
there was a new face
on her course,
wasting happy hours
shouting sad times
to morose microphones,
if you fail
to sing
your anger will
leave you to scream
and shout
similarities
stunningly simple
masking taxation of
tie-ins’ infusion inbreeding,
demonization of sharing similarities
left time socially awkward
and unacceptably indulgent
of the mindless self
tonight i will
join myself in song
it will be a hymn
rhythm saved by him
we’ll circle ‘til its begin
we’ve refined
to spirits split,
allowing tastes to
mingle with
all those stagnant,
stifling with wanting questions
of where beings,
not seeing being
to be relative
don’t you remember
that was me
by the train tracks
hoping to spare the train
and sacrifice my yesteryear
in hopes that your nature
could outlive my past
and as soon as I relate
to this
I am lost on one-way streets
clinging to curbed wishes
whispering claims of we,
pushed with no reason
I should lose self
for the sake of
this intelligible “you”,
this inebriated “you”,
this indecipherable “you”
that can’t understand me
once sober,
blurred vision
aligned along memory
refusing to understand
the way I lay so somber
beneath this blanketed piece.
peaceful thoughts
keep me cutting
through dark alleys memory
shortened ways
to dream that phasing face
The moon moves
toward a comforted rest,
laying her head
in the open arms of
beginning days commanding
closed-fist conformity, broken
in our failing attempts to inform
the stars continually insisting
on one more so
I retrace steps drawing upon
thoughts we’d shared over
shattered vessels and soaked earth
sprouting first footfalls path
lined in flowers and forbidden fruits’
anonymous aroma cementing forever
these times in memory.
Fresh air hitting newborn
lungs lodged in a memory
made of mealworms.
Chalking dirt between
serrated incisors.
The day I asked a new girl to be my girlfriend
you left a note at my house signed "love,"
telling me you were infinitely sorry.
Some things just don't have an explanation.
There is a knife in my throat
chalking chords between serrated teeth
words ground down to chunks of flesh,
they never last,
they taste like the last
of something we had.
When I kissed your face in my bedroom
there was no golden crust of light
you gave me head
and I didn't cum,
over the next year I fell in love it tasted
like blood in my mouth there is a knife
in my throat,
you placed it delicately
as if you'd be back to pull it out
with hands still warm from
spreading another's pulse
and stroking down the center
with one finger.
I said all the words I knew
in the hopes you'd hear some you liked,
I made a collage of spittle and stringy voice box
from my insides you didn't come back
so your note
is noted but there is no "us" curled up
in grand central station, no eyes glowing,
and there is nothing left to say, but
it hurt in a way I was not ready to know
and came from a direction I had never believed in,
neither of us are the same people.
Thanks for the golden days
most of them were
i'm sorry I crumpled so easily
I don't think i'll ever be the same
I think that's a good thing
but you had to know you had to know
what I didn't
and someday you'll grow up,
it'll hurt,
it's worth it.
So it goes.
The morning started with a shower
Arms braced against the wall in a kind of supplication
Pushing hard so damn hard you want to fall
You let the water wash your dreams and pain away
The morning started with you leaving
Saying I'm so nice as you walk out the door
I know your tired cause we didn't sleep
I remember your whispered promises that were quickly disposed of
The morning started with you lying next to me
While I played Rilo Kiley
So close I could touch you but I could tell you didn't want to be touched
"Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can’t move
Awake but cannot open my eyes
And the weight is crushing down on my lungs
I know I can’t breathe
And I hope someone will help me this time..."
I played it in a moment of honesty
My one true expression as I watched the distance grow between us
I wanted to fuck you again cause I hoped it would mean something
Thank you for teaching me that the third time is the charm and the fourth is for sleeping not fucking
It's hard to find this kind of rejection early in the morning. Thanks for staying open late to accommodate me.
The morning started with me laughing at you when you said where's the underwear?
Writers can laugh at painful parallels and prophesy true unintentionally but not uneventfully
It doesn't help me not want to fuck you again
So we fuck again for the third time. The last time.
You kiss less when your not drunk
The morning started with some smoke and water and generic Advil
Proscribed to all the fallen like vitamins
You look good naked
Next to me
I wonder what this morning will bring?
This morning started with me inside you the second time
You made me cum inside you like you wanted something that I had to give
Maybe love maybe pain -you did like to be hurt
You didn't remember that I said I want to hurt you less cause I actually like you
I choked you cause you wanted it more than me
I feel like Kriegers robot arm sometimes
Perhaps we could just affix a cock to the arm and I could be replaced
Go on vacation to the city of lost whore sluts
I hear the buffet there is wonderful
The morning started with me inside you
On the kitchen floor
I threw you up against the wall too hard
You fell down so I took you right there
On the linoluem Under flourecent lights
You were so tight and tender and tough
You fucked me desperately like you hadn't been getting enough
Sorry for banging your head up against the fridge
The morning started with you next to me
Both of us drunk
You kissed me right
Out of the many there are few that do it
It's a weakness for me and dangerous to believe in the power of knowing through a kiss
You dry humped me like a dog on speed
It felt good
That and the kissing
I said no
I wouldn't fuck you
Like I said before
You said it had been to long
That you never did this
I said I needed to wait
That I liked you
I didn't want you to be just a fuck
Not just for you
But for me
Sometimes even seasoned whores need to feel special
I said that I'd fall too quick
You can be very persuasive
The morning started with me on the couch with your friend
We had makers and he had Jameson
He called it neat but it had Ice
I didn't say anything
You told him that you knew me for a long time and that i was gay
In retrospect it probably helped that I talked about color and carpets and paintings and poetry
I tried not laugh as we tried to pass of our little deceptive parody
Sure it was successful but what does it really say about me that he'd believe it
Oh the irony of pretending to be gay to get a girl
The things we do
He left after a long soliloquy on decorating and fashion
I think you might be like me and sometimes confuse the facts of your friends and stories with your dreams
I thought your adept practiced and surreptitious deception was endearing
I wanted to kiss you all night so I was glad he left
After he was gone I told you in the bathroom that I wanted to kiss you all night and you dropped your pants and peed in front me
You looked at me like no big deal and said what I don't care
I really starting liking you then
The morning started at the bar the night before
You sat down and smiled and flirted with me
You told me I would have to wait a year and a half to fuck you
As we drank way too much and both grew more beautiful and gracious with every ounce of liquid forgetfulness
The morning started the night before at your work when I hit on you cause you were laughing and smiling and had a little halo
The morning started like any other morning
With lies and rejection and sweetness and passion and loneliness
If I knew I was going to be used like this
I would have used a condom
Not to just protect against the std's but to protect from intimacy
I hope I won't fail on both counts
A little worried
That's why I write this story
Azrael Always James
© Copyright 2013
also, I am sad that no one has anything to say:-(
Lilac-scented winds
furtively creep through
the window, rhythmically
stroking the lily-white hair
that rests upon her hunched
shoulders.
Thin levees barricade
the emerging seas of salt
as the stationary clouds
dissipate from the
sapphire ice crystals that
encircle her atramentous
pupils.
Beneath her round,
brittle cheekbones
ancient ravines wind
downwards toward
her steep, narrow
chin, pointing at a
skeletal frame blanketed
in an off-white, floral gown.
Blotchy, autumn, amber
hands cradle the pudgy
infant’s limp body. She
smiles as she presses her
chapped lips on the baby’s
smooth, plastic head.
She leans back in her
chair of solace, rocking
back-and-forth to the
pulsating tempo of her
heartbeat. Her world is
in perfect harmony.
when i put my head on the pillow,
and close my eyes,
all i can dream of is,
freeing the lies.
when i sleep,
there are no secrets to keep.
i fall asleep,
just to wake up.
when i wake up,
i am still asleep.
i look to my bed,
to find myself,
sleeping in front of my own eyes.
i see the sadness as tears,
slip down my face,
thinking of my very own fears.
then i walk away,
even at night,
it is still day.
I dedicate this poem to Ed Ly
For he was the one to inspire me
There’s this guy I know at school
He’s mysterious and really cool
Sometimes I wonder what goes on in his head
I like him a lot, his name is Ed
I stayed after to help with The Pursuit
And told Ed he reminds me of Puss ‘n’ Boots
He stared at me very terrified
Now he always questions me
“Why Puss ‘n’ Boots? No, I disagree”
Whenever I see him he gives me the evil eye
And says “You hate us,” and pretends to cry
He’s always joking, I can guarantee
Because – well, he’s Ed Ly
Ed I wrote this poem just for you
And all I've said is really true
Weekends
are for feeling lonely,
anxious,
and depressed.
I feel the longing for fun,
but yet I stay still
inside.
This is where I belong,
with the demons inside my head;
Forcing me to become something
I'll never achieve.
Wondering, worrying.
Round and round they run through my head
Faster than dendrites and axons scurrying
Millions of thoughts on a single thread
Yet all the same.
Asking, analyzing.
So much to do, but with plenty of time
That it’s all wasted and forgotten.
When there was no rush, all’s in its prime
I double-check.
Running, repeating.
Alas, the world will not stop and wait
For such a cautious one as I.
Waste a moment and it will be gone
Want a second back, it can’t be withdrawn.
July 13, 2009
(c) MDC
