you taught me that a gun
without a bullet
weighs much more than
the one
that has something to hold.
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 3:08 PM UTC
i tried to eat my whole heart raw once.
but i could not stomach it. could not stomach the noxious ventricles down my throat, could not swallow the bollus of unfleshly pink carnage.
so i broke it into pieces and i blamed you instead, because it seemed easier to say you broke me than to say that i ever loved you.
i.
this is how you broke me :
whenever i thought of you ******* her i would think of dying inside.
dying is a blessing.
dying is the movie that i am too young to watch but too old to resist. dying is divinity, it is paradisical death in slow motion, an entity mushrooming in between the eyes of a decaying rabbit. it is tears being ****** back into the eyes of a small girl, legs apart, ***** ripped, the fruitlessness of futility bleeding out like saliva from a mouth. dying is being idle, dying is being able to think without questioning existence, dying is a moth, paled by smoke.
it is that tuesday night i promised myself i would never write again
if all i wrote was about you.
ii.
this is how i broke myself :
whenever i thought of you dying inside her, i would think of *******
******* is a blessing.
******* is the reason an orchid can sing without a stigma. ******* is the malformation of your tongue when you say " i hate myself, because i hate you, but i hate you more. ". ******* is about three blocks away from love. ******* and love are probably secret **** buddies. ******* is saying you love her. ******* is saying you love me. ******* is that heart-shaped bruise that you left on my wrist, that tuesday night you ***** me and called it love. ******* is telling me i am not her.
this disposition of 'her', the realisation she plays a better 'her', than i play 'her', the realisation that she stole 'her' from me, when'her' was a dream both of us could hope to fake.
iii.
why people are kept broken:
you once told me, while ashing out a cigarette on my neck,
"it is better to stay broken so nothing else can ever break you again."
Feb 19, 2011
Feb 19, 2011 at 3:06 PM UTC
*to the garden lack of the pulse of insect's colour
paved with voices,
a dreaming girl selling her little body
it starts;
girl in box, girl in box,
when will she be let out?
a dreaming girl, dreaming
in her empty dream
i do not think i am late, am i?
who is still here?*
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 7:43 PM UTC
and the sheep turned on their sheopard
selfish
and drank their saviors blood
thinking it was rain
as the bombs tore holes in Gods skins
and he quieted..,
but not for many years.
after all that was left was a scar and His hands. which took on arthritus.
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 5:42 PM UTC
white (birds and red) birds
making blisters in the sky
- - memento mori.
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 5:41 PM UTC
your face as pale as knuckle,
it fell off like a stubborn cherry,
your mouth is clever as a ****
and mine isn't.
Dec 17, 2010
Dec 17, 2010 at 8:30 AM UTC
*they wanna see me dead, puttin prices on my head,
spread da rumorz around town, like i fell down!
they can hold me down, they cant stop my shine!
they cant block my grind!*
SHAWTY ITZ GAME TIME!!!
Dec 17, 2010
Dec 17, 2010 at 7:22 AM UTC
I reside in your stomach, lying here is bliss…getting gnawed on everyday by your attacking pepsin enzyme. I suspect you would not digest me yet, dear Jennor? You sneak. You, I believe have changed me the most, with your knives. You cut and carve me in your pleasure…shaping, moulding me into the person ridiculously typing this myfuck **** today. In return, I’ve done nothing but bleed with you under the cyanide sun. You’ve ordered me to write, of which I obeyed, and forced me into acceptance. You protect me from everything, at a distance, possessively stalking from the shadows. For that I thank you, and I adore you, ever so dastardly. When I am strong enough, I shall protect you too, and be there to save you…I shall infeckt you in my eternity. You claim my soul, locked up for safety …and but of course, our secrets shall stay untold. Smother me, until I am purple and can no longer breathe.
Dec 17, 2010
Dec 17, 2010 at 4:41 AM UTC
The sun would always come out a little after
the mind massacre
- follow the monsters-
i fancy lying on the
hard floor
because it is the only place
where the train of vertebrates in
my spine
can set in its rails.
i am a void
bleeding out oxidised civilisation
-holes in my head-
in a world where colours
are just fabricated memoirs
of porcelain filmstrips.
i fear that i am becoming anorexic:
my brain is splattered onto
a tiny plate
-emaciated-
where i maliciously
pick out the
soft and pretty
bits.
My tongue is cancerous,
segregating words into
Pinks' and greys'.
my heart has malformed into
an ugly blister
-swollen-
milking saps
of dismal yesterdays.
i'm swimming
alone
in an acid bath
of bleach and ice.
can't find the light
-the light-
beneath the glass
-the night-
of the
-decaying-
chandelier.
Dec 16, 2010
Dec 16, 2010 at 10:14 AM UTC