Hell is a lake of ice that makes His home in the pit of my stomach. His icy air grips the caverns of my chest crawling its way out of my throat, freezing every muscle, every finger, every breath in His path until I am numb until a corpse makes its home within my ribcage.
He is there when I close my eyes. I know His presence when I feel him on my skin—cold, unmoving, rigid as His tenacity that holds me close, a stale embrace, indifferent of friend or foe. But I was born for the summer rain, for heat waves. I was born to ignite, to melt, to sear even in the most immotile voids.
There is a barbaric light within me yet
that screams from rooftops and tumbles downstairs.
The God of fickle life hums a sweet melody into my ear, and it resonates—
as though in an orotund cave—
and it echoes—
like the calls of a wildebeest—
and it erupts out of every crevice within myself until it comes tumbling out, ripping through lilac canvases, etching its obtuse fingerprints onto dead bones, ordering them to arise.
And there is a light within me yet. There is a blinding light within me yet. There is a blinding, smoldering light within me yet. There is a blinding, smoldering, perversely roaring light within me yet, which no amount of harsh winter cold or quiet abyss could conceive to obscure, ringing a cry that reverberates within even the driest of bones.
And there is a light within me yet, begging, desperate, pleading, yearning to be dripped onto my skin and smeared over whatever I may touch
Like a crimson lacquer leaving ivory marks on surfaces—and even on surfaces that touch those—smearing its obscene scream from the Atlas of the world:
I exist.
Like a prayer, And I savor it on my tongue.
I EXIST. I EXIST.
Mar 8, 2024
Mar 8, 2024 at 1:21 PM UTC
Hell is here
And here
And everywhere you don't want it to be
You cut to the part of the play where we see Rome burning
YOU: Sisyphus! Here is your rock!
ME: Thanks, I thought I lost it!
I hit pause.
Up I go and down I come a
Merry-go-round that throws up red water
Free as a stallion
Free as a show pony
Running running running—
You pull me back into the auditorium
With a thought unheard in an unclean
Chalice I can't help but drink from
Water from my head filling the crevices that are
Hidden deep
Deeper
Deepest and—
Cue the [crash]! and [burn]!
(Ha! Get it! You’re burning in hell!)
That’s all this is, isn’t it?
A carefully scripted (comedy) tragedy by a (God) Devil.
I read the script again.
You’re drowning in the fire of your sins
"Condemned by the Father you once loved
Like an unfulfilled prayer
Gathering dust in hell."
I throw it in the fire.
Running running running.
Nov 23, 2021
Nov 23, 2021 at 1:39 PM UTC
she gives her hands
but shes still left with her head
she gives that too
but shes still left with her heart
she gives her heart
but it still hurts like hell
so she gives herself
and now there's nothing left
to give.
Feb 6, 2021
Feb 6, 2021 at 2:55 AM UTC
i love you tonight
like how the knife loves skin
cruel and rough
sharp and
piercing when
i kiss your raw lips
my cool steel words brushing your
ears like an unfulfilled prayer, getting lost in between the sound of
loud crashing against jagged rocks and
overcome by the wind and waves
but soon i drown in your blood when i finally pull out of your heart, in the mess that i made
with the whisper:
“i love you”
Aug 17, 2020
Aug 17, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
are we all just broken people
trying to fit our broken pieces together
to make each other whole?
tell me
because i dont think its working.
we’re just falling apart
faster than before.
Jul 24, 2020
Jul 24, 2020 at 1:57 PM UTC
she's drawing constellations
with the memories in her head
trying to trace them back
back to where it all began
Was it the first star off north ?
or the just right of Sirius ?
or was it the day she stormed out
and hid in the bathroom stall
tears like lava hitting the pale marble floor the way the rain was pounding on the pavement outside
wishing the clouds would go away and the year-long storm would cease ?
or maybe she's just thinking too much ? not thinking enough ? how can she think the right amount when time is endless and she's lost to infinity ?
she tries to line it up but there’s too many threads and she’s split at the end so now
she’s just back where she began
back to the silence
back to the night
back to lining up the constellations of memories
in her head.
Jul 17, 2020
Jul 17, 2020 at 12:48 AM UTC
the way you smelled
the way you laughed
the way you felt in my arms
but i will never forget the voice that whispered in my ear for the first time:
“i love you”
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 1:19 AM UTC
one final time
before i have to let you go ?
because simply grazing your
skin would be enough
to douse the fire in my chest
that hasn’t stopped burning
since the night you left.
Jul 16, 2020
Jul 16, 2020 at 1:17 AM UTC
she tosses her hands
but shes still left with her head
she tosses that too
but shes still left with her heart
she tosses her heart
but it still hurts like hell
so she tosses herself
and now there's nothing left
to toss.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 2:48 PM UTC
Do you remember your dream?
The one where you finally felt
emotionally complex,
the one where you looked in the mirror
and were able to call yourself
"A real human being"?
These days I wake-up
every cold morning
and have some trouble remembering it.
I look around and see
many have the same problem as me.
Perhaps
the key is to realize
we are not alone.
We are all a little lost.
Sep 8, 2019
Sep 8, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC