Smiling and communicating is such a pain
But these things I must everyday feign
Because this is a world that lives in a lie
They avoid the truth even if it’s staring them in the eye
I must wear a mask to live in this place
They’d slaughter me if they saw my real face
I’m a rare breed though I’m not the only one alive
Eliminating them makes me the fittest to survive
The ones who make everyone happy are the ones most sad
Perhaps because they don’t want others to have a past so bad
Its true when they say don’t judge a book by its cover
I’m a serial killer; not a friend, nor your lover
Though what I do is for those whose justice is denied
A punishment I receive is I have no one to confide
It’s not the beauty outside but what’s beyond the façade
I have to measure my steps and always choose the right card
Though what I do is not legally right
I punish those who are demons of the night
I am Dexter, master of disguise
It’s not the truth that defines me; it’s my lies...
ahead of the sun;
cloudy formations along
the sky’s depression.
These doleful days weaken
the morning glow.
to the conversation;
loved ones deteriorating like
the season. Death is in the room
taunting the living.
the frustrations of the past;
haunted by what is to come.
Spirits on the shelf;
casting spells to release
The bold little pearls that cluster round our pens,
Have killed the ones who should have lived and would rather meet their ends.
Tragedy is strategy for those who do not care.
Drown out the stares with alcohol your pockmarked pain you wear.
Dependent on the potion that makes a joker coo.
Suspend o'er the smoke that floats pain and ecstasy through.
Killing thoughts, but saving pain is bound to break you ill.
Hooked round the solid solace of the prisms shown surreal.
Burn the burrowed bulls-horns from your gut.
Drink from the blood of sinner's past while you wallow sway and strut.
Lest you find a deadly blow from pipe and needle's cut.
she tells me how my touch is deft -
scribes lightly through the morning haze
pedestrian within the fog
traversing nights transpire days
your shouting shatters solitude
it brings me back mortality
ethereal my thoughts to write
these poems' eventuality
a heartbeat muffles crackling lungs
while veins write words upon the breath
and what great privilege given to
the last ones spoken till your death
you find me speaking lyrics to
the harmonies I find in you
life is a chain of choices and chances
you have to make 'em and take 'em
if you don't stand for something
you'll fall for anything
when you set your goal
you feed your soul
life shouldn't be measured by breaths taken
but by the times life takes your breath away
put a smile on some ones face today
take pride in knowing you put it there
I think therefore I am over qualified
and that's why you work here
no it's not ignorance nor arrogance
I'm just smarter than you
do not believe or even read every word that I have written
do not believe everything you think
remember you are special, just like everyone else
remember to take your smart pills and stop pretending
to be stupid, that's just dumb
that's Mr. Azzhole to you (ays - oh - lay) it's Esperanto
and yes it is part of my charm, thanks for asking
the day dream is the free thinker's nightmare
what do you think? never mind
perjury murdered imagination, without an assault rifle, without
2nd amendment rights, without mass media or an internet connection
it's not what you accomplish
it's what you over come
I didn't say it was your fault
I said I was going to blame you
life is like skipping with a peg leg
at night it's like sleeping with scissors
if you feel offended by this please read again
with your name in each rant, then take two (2) smart pills
and go back to sleep
it's 4 a.m. and i didn't study
those latin conjugations
no, i studied
the last few weeks.
i don't care if i've fucked a thousand men;
i don't care if i've fucked one.
none of you have the right to
make me seem like i'm unclean.
because if i remember correctly
it takes two bodies,
two sets of limbs moving in the dark unseen,
and two resolves to explore
the sensations of their sex.
and i'm expected to sit here quiet and placid
while you throw my sexuality in my face
and make this an unwelcome place
for whores like me.
i'm a person; a human being
and stop playing nice,
stop playing dumb.
i'm not going to pity fuck you
because you were kind to me
a time or two
you pathetic piece of shit.
you came at the wrong time,
when i was already seething so silently,
and you asked again and again
like a kid asking his mom for a new toy in the store.
it's hardly even you i'm mad at:
it's this systemic poison in the great pool of people,
and there are plenty of fish in the sea
but how many are free from this toxicity?
i thought sex was an exploration, a harmless invitation
to enjoy what felt so organic and good
but you're the ones who've made it dirty,
who've made me feel like a slut.
who've made it your personal business to erase me,
and displace me
because i liked the touch, taste, feel.
this is unreal to me; and i'm sick in my heart.
because everyone wants to try and isolate
this one part of me
and simplify who i am into
the whims of my skin.
no. the answer is no.
so fuck you.
He is not vile.
He shoved her carelessly out of his space.
Buried her under a pile of rubble.
Some kind of punishment for bursting his bubble.
Does she care.
No, not her .
Has desire to come to him.
To scratch her way through soiled skin.
So she can spit toxins his unjustly vile eyes.
Just like the ones he spat in hers.
Toxins like the ones he poisoned her with.
Her brother, her fellow man.
She's glad to be free.
Such an atrocity in fair English city.
He held tight the rose of England.
Nicked his finger on her thorns.
It bled red love away.
She wishes like his kisses that she were dead.
He thinks he wants that too!
But he knows his bleeding finger lingers.
Hidden somewhere in his heart of memories so tender!
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Literature lulled the longing; left some life.
Eliot spoke of hollow men that could be mutilated but whole. Tempting!
Auden lamented that despite the wish to turn back time we cannot stop clocks,
Volatile as we are: love does not last forever.
Every word etched upon the page made me realise I was not
Miss Havisham; but in my pusillanimous dress I kept close
Every touch and promise, and the deepest secret nobody knew.
Heaney enticed me with warm thick slobber; yellow in the sunshine, but
Eyes not mine own met me in mirrors and I felt sad that
Reality is not a poem, or a piece of prose and despite looking deeper
Each desire reflected back at me were ones I dare not meet in dreams.
Tennyson's Lady of Shallot weaved its magic but not enough for you to keep an
Old wife. I lost my glow, although even now, my lights still twinkle on dark nights in
Dickens' London. Red lights in dark doorways telling tales of a wronged
Rebecca, Jane or Moll all with different dimensions and
Each with her own story to tell, like me,
Although none of it really matters in the end does it?
Maybe now it is time to yield.
Flowers in my eyes,
You said I had… flowers in my eyes,
But don’t excuse these flowers for the ones pollinated by butterflies or smelled by a child at midday
These are not sunflowers or lilies
These are forget-me-nots, orchids, and black roses,
Saturday night wondering in a sea of whiskey and beer,
You watched a monster
3 times my size
I pushed and kicked
But you watched anyway, saying I asked for it.
Drunk night leads to sober morning
Not far from the scene of the crime
Sore walking towards the mirror watching as I fall into tears at the sight of bruises on my neck
Reliving his fangs and rough lips
I shakily cover up the only evidence to offer
Piss drunk attacked on the living room floor
That’s what you saw
But you didn’t see me quivering in front of the bathroom mirror
Praying my skin could be ripped off
Praying to get his lips off my lips, his teeth off my neck, hands off my mouth, and memory from my mind
You don’t see my fetal positioned body swaying in the back of the lab before chem
Unable to get my fighting and saying no out of my head
Unable to get his face out of my brain
Unable to rip my insides out and fall out of this horrid reality
You can only see haunted words and distracted looks,
Conversations that draw raindrops and words jumbled,
Faint bruise on my neck working as my very own scarlet letter,
You can only see piss drunk girl at high school party
Boy forcing himself on something so fragile and small
Who only wants a piece of the slutty class alcoholic
Even though it was just supposed to be us girls
Even though he wasn’t from our school
Even though none of this was mapped out or planned for me
And with those judged looks
Speak of my poisonous sin
And adulterous nature
Speak of “my fault” and the expected “boys will be boys”
Still you’ll never see
Me running to my vodka to stay alive
Drinking straight from the bottle hoping to overdose and die
Crying for hours hoping my mind will blow but it never does
Looking at every boy as a threat
Seeing my reflection hating every curve and corner
Because after three violations on my body I wonder what I’m doing wrong
Wondering why I’ve been violated
Taking boiling hot baths so my skin will fall off or blister
And the worst is that you will never see
Nights I want to kiss someone
But run because I fear they’ll be rough
Nights I try to erase moments
But can’t because they’re forever ingrained
The day I finally take my clothes off for someone
Without them doing it to hurt me
And all they can notice are the cuts on my arms and hips
The day I stop myself from falling in love because I can’t believe anyone could love me for me
The second I broke into a million pieces and those flowers you see in my eyes were planted by a sexual attack I won’t ever get to erase.
If I could choose,
My type of blues,
It would not be,
The midnight blues.
They come for me,
They come for you,
They come in ones,
Threes and twos
They're coming for fun,
They're along for the cruise,
They like to hide
Deep in our shoes.
Don't hold them tight,
And when you let them loose,
It will be alright.