I knew her as the new kid
who liked music that screamed
but who sang in the choir
like a songbird on steroids.
I saw her in the hallways,
tall, but somehow so small
like a puff of air
might just topple her.
I saw her clothes get darker,
her sleeves get longer,
and her eyes retreat into her skull
because hunger drew them back in.
I heard her voice grow soft
in the choir she loved more than life,
and suddenly her lark's lilting melody
was no longer ringing in my ears.
I heard her sigh more than laugh
and I saw the stars in her eyes
get devoured by the dark,
that all consuming black inside her.
I felt the razor bite her skin
to let some of the darkness out
or maybe is was more like
she was trying to let some sunlight in.
I felt her pain
on that night where she sat on an unmade bed
with her hands around her neck
and tried to mute her beautiful voice.
But she failed.
I know her today as my friend
who still listens to screaming music
but sings songs of joy and love
louder than anyone else.
They say "forget him"
But I can't
Because while he thought he was stroking my hair
He was really smoothing out the wrinkles in my soul
When he whispered in my ear
It got carved into my skull
And when he touched the most hidden parts of my body
He got access to the hidden parts of my being
How simple it would have been to just give him my skin
It can be mended with stitches and a band-aid
But I gave him my entirety
And only time can heal that
Meeting you was like an assassination
The moment you spoke
I felt the recoil
Point blank shot between the eyes
In one instant I was alone
Plenty sufficient at self-mutilation
I was content
To wander alone in my own thoughts
My personality cold
Chilled by the ice of the desolation
Of unreleased sorrow
One minute I am still
Meandering hopelessly in my world
Then there was you
Your first word was a slug
Dressed in copper it sank in
Sending shockwaves through the gray matter
I took the hit
My skull accepting the whiplash and allowing me
Some semblance of strength to move
I had no chance to heal before I was hit again
Your touch was electric
A million volts multiplied by the fluid
That is your glowing stare
The sound of my name on your tongue
Becomes a garrote
Taking my breath from my lungs
I can’t speak in your presence
All that I was because to die away
The lonely man who sought shelter
In the desert of loneliness
Bleeding out in the back of my mind
All who I thought I was
In the blink of a muzzle flash
Meeting you was like an assassination
The man I was
Some other man sauntered off that day
Someone I don’t know yet
But am striving to figure out
dis ID reminds me i'm never just another number
by the way the Devil's God's most loyal servant
so I won't be another slave
push giant bricks up pyramids, Sisyphus
or graze with the sheep in the field.
Like a goat stand alone, and
Like a goat some fear my skull
But then, there are things that go on
out of the flock, above wooly ears and eyes
in the forests, fighting bears and wolves and lions
In my mind,
the fight was a result of your undying love for me,
an act of protection,
for your fair maiden.
I was the perfect damsel in distress,
dragging you away from the bad guy.
How I ever managed to daydream,
over the screams
and the struggling,
is beyond me.
As you gracefully caved in the guys skull
with your elegant knee,
painting a watercolour of red on the concrete,
I stood back and watched.
Each drop of blood,
that splattered the night scarlet,
mirrored a drop of the salty tears
running down my cheek.
I wanted him to get back up
and smash your beautiful face into a perfect Picasso.
He didn't do anything but lie in his own river.
I wanted to be washed away with it.
Instead, I had to watch you triumphantly step back from your kill,
the picture of alpha male,
and look for your mate.
Why won't you capture me?
Because you want her.
My best friend.
The one who I should be comforting,
for having two guys so in love with her that they'd kill each other.
I'm scared if I place a hand on her shoulder,
I might crumble.
I could leave my soft white mark on you,
if you just gave me the chance.
But maybe you like the chill,
the chance to pull her closer.
I can't look anymore.
I step over the battlefield and make my way down the street.
I see her get in a taxi
with the guy you just half bludgeoned to death to win her heart.
I see you stood amongst the wreckage,
confusion on your war wounded face,
not knowing what went wrong.
Just like I gave in and cared about you.
What idiots we are.
Somebody punch me in the face.
Jaylin was scared and detrimental -
with runaway scars,
his heavy breathing,
and the wolves chasing such a forgotten soul.
"I'm more afraid of death then before,
more afraid of the teeth ripping through my skull,
I have to end this dream.",
He said screaming, knowing it was but of no dream.
Is the end just above the harassing, or still just a mere speck waiting to be seen.
he screamed again, as the snow touched his face
- wishing his fellow friends cold hear.
the mindless memories all over his body warned him.
It warned him he was still wanted by them.
Still yearned by the ones of which owned the forest.
"Jaylin, run! Run now!"
this wasn't his mind, but the mysteries wind that ran next to him.
He heard it, but didn't know what it said until he saw them -
barking, running and almost screaming.
Jaylin stopped to listen to this screaming,
as if the screaming was the sound of a thousand ghosts that the Wolves killed.
Hearing all this he knew he wasn't the first.
"How could the wind know?,
Why are there some many voices in my head!?,
I don't want to be trapped like the other lost and forgotten soul!,
I don't want to be screaming in endless time of death !",
what was wished for was soon put away in the hollow sound of the universe.
they found him.
and the taste of death
where all things felt when Jaylin was bitten.
Bitten by The Wolves.
I want to dress in
your insecurities and
be the perfect you.
- Corey Taylor
We live through my frail
in this world, we love.
Flicker, black and white,
the scenes that make up our lives.
Shaded in dark light.
The greatest Haiku,
our fractured, structured romance,
prison art for you.
I got a tattoo;
your face, inside my eyelids.
The night owes me you,
and you owe me the night, too.
I am morning, blue.
If you see me run
ask the wind to give me flight.
Catch me in summer.
Tell me you loathe me.
I want to be the one you
love in black and blue.
If I regret you,
my sorrow must be only
because I'm lonely.
You are my secret,
my self-loathing, my fury.
You drink the glory.
That taste: your cold kiss.
Should all else fail, remember this.
Winter on your lips.
That scent; earth and rain,
fogging in my skull again,
season ripe for pain.
The touch, inside skin,
only ghosts can wander in;
abandoned - ruin.
The vision, since scarred,
iris pattern bleeding hard,
beauty of you, blurred.
That sound, a distant
echo of another day;
winter, ruin, bleeds.
Give to me your tongue;
when you turn your back on me,
it might stay and talk.
You wind me up, let me go.
Don't understand no.
I write you haikus;
five syllables, seven, five.
You say: they don't rhyme.
Your eyes are open,
as though dreaming of my face
creates too much space.
I see you pulsing,
malformed, misinformed, miming.
I think I'm dying.
Iced glass in my veins,
your lack of speech, cauterized
wounds you reopened.
Clouds shift in your eyes,
jaw becomes rigid bone, clenched.
You have betrayed me.
You don't feel yourself
raping my subconscious mind.
You leave me behind.
I hated you then,
past with fervor, the future
feels like resentment.
Somehow, we climax.
Your face, many, like white stars
out of reach. Too far.
The sky is mourning,
bleeding red and blue, for you,
raining in rainbows.
Afternoon sun pales
to cloak the coming night.
The sky looks brutal.
Romance, inception -
ensnare our greatest love, hope,
kill us with your depth,
frail, lucid dreaming,
the wake-up kiss of new days,
fresh belief, broken.
Use me if you please.
This bruised affection is yours,
sincerely - adored.
I’ve filled all of the balloons
with cigarette smoke instead of helium,
just like you asked,
and when the children come crawling,
peeling themselves from pavement,
we’ll take needle-points to latex
reshape their tracheas into factories
Soon our home will brim with smoke rings,
I'll place a finger to them
only to ruin the perfection produced by small lips
Thumbs are to erasers as tears are to pencils
I swear to you I try to keep within the stencil
but saltwater weeping, shallow breath, and tobacco smoke
don’t seem to stay within the lines as well as I’d hoped
If I had another way I’d draw terrible pictures,
stick them to the fridge and insist “mom, take it with ya”
I’ve been ripping out dictionary pages and
nailing them to various foreheads,
yowling, “we need knowledge, we need verbal expression!”
Though, I don’t believe I’ve made much progression
because a woman turned to me today with a
business suit on her back and a chewed up heart at her feet
She fastened a note to the top of her skull that read:
“ignorance is bliss” then she waited for a car to bind her to the street
Instead of a light read
This is more of a late read
A wipe the slate read
New needs and different greeds
We're meant to meet when leaves sheath
I think about the time speed
or time spent amongst wasting
It's trash green, slime I bleed
Blood spilt while red lights gleam
High beams and tear streams
The skull seam
A conscious stream
of unconscious scenes
A habitual response to television screens
Thought patterns of your name seem
un-welcomed sit-ins for the brain team
It's a game spent creating
a world for the changing
A gut for the taking
and a heart for the breaking
I'd kill for a day dream
Murder for a breath taking
Leave town for a quiet waking
that'd fulfill the craving
for the warmth of your body on my back claiming
to know something without wasting
love something without hasting
and trust something without caving
Inject into my blood stream
the heroine of your daily raining
It's a comfortable silence and oh-so inviting.
Sometimes I'll miss the voices, though.
There's more hugs, but less laughter-
Smiles are almost extinct.
I try to picture crawling outside, but
I guess I'm not welcome out there.
I'm always tired, and thinking becomes difficult.
The mush in my skull likes to think it's a brain.
I wish I had a smoke.