I pull out words
As if they were
Teeth
Exposing the gummy center
And tarred lies
Beneath
The extraction leaves some
Ragged
Others
Broken
Empty socket waiting to be
Filled
Its other half
Stolen
Can lethargic scribbles
On a porcelain
Sheet
Lift this leaden heart
To dance to a swifter
Beat?
Maybe tomorrow,
But not Today.
So don't focus on results
Instead train yourself to
Say:
**** these thoughts,
I'll rest this weary
Head
Inspiration may be
Waiting
Sound asleep in my
Bed
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC
I wish I could wake up
In a display case
No wood but my
Limbs
Nothing wet but my
Paint
Flawless
Smooth Razor-virgin
No searching
For caverns
To plunder
No caves to protect
From thieves
Gone asunder
I wish my canvas was blank
Androgynous beauty
A creation of
Choice
But I think I used to have a voice
Characters danced in my esophagus
And played my cords
Like a
Cello
They shouted on a
Page
And longed for the
Stage
But struggled against
My front
Teeth
After years of neglect,
Too cruel to forget
And too torturous again
To repeat
They forwent their "adieus"
But muttered **** yous"
As they went to turn tricks
Down the street
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 11:18 AM UTC
I learned to listen
By playing your
Words
On repeat
By lapping the taste
That your anger
Morphs into when
Under a sheet
Tonight, tonight,
This rumble won't
Take place in
The street
Rocket in your pocket,
Shark boy, little Jet,
Do you feel pretty?
Or have I not relieved
You yet?
Now something's coming,
Checkmate, game and set,
But maybe you'll indulge me
With one last cigarette?
Boy, Boy,
Crazy with regret,
Let's sing a song to conjure
The evening that we met
How suddenly my name
Became a sweet refrain
That you could not
Forget
It's only you,
Everything I'll ever be,
Don't matter if you're tired,
Come refresh yourself in
Me
Aug 20, 2019
Aug 20, 2019 at 5:17 AM UTC
I've felt my fingers
withered to the core.
Wet chalk on a broken blackboard;
my words powdery prints
yearning for
a string of thoughts
that doesn't screech at night,
or that age old rhyme
that would surely make
the worst of my burdens
light.
Yet words that held no meaning,
leave me empty once transposed
from their coddled womb of inspiration,
to confined sentences in rows.
A thousand locusts inciting
itching urges
to scratch my mind across
a page,
but try as hard as I may
my rhymes betray
my age.
No wisdom pours
from out my lips, nor
knowledge
that is deep.
For all I ever held
with any depth,
I've dwindled in
my sleep.
Listen:
Despite my clingy nature,
and as unlikely as it seems,
I swear to You,
those **** locusts
ate my dreams.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 6:15 PM UTC
I've slumbered
through the innocence
of my youth
and the resulting indulgence
left me dry
Since then
I've drowned in non-sense
and bathed
in pool after pool
of white lie;
allowed your eyes
to send bone-chilling waves
down my spine,
with the reckless risk
they imply
and though unwanted
thoughts
deaden my gaze with doubt,
to the grasp of your
abuse
I'll comply
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
One more shot,
I thought.
It won’t make a difference,
just one more drink.
I stumbled to the table containing a small assortment of poisons.
Not much to chose from, but so many possibilities lie at the bottom of each bottle;
snakes in the grass
(which one will bite tonight?)
A little liquid courage here,
a shot of lust there,
and a floor full of regret and humiliation the next day.
The latter, I know, is guaranteed.
Although from the sound of the debate between
my lunch and my vice that
seems to be reaching a crescendo, that is, all the way up
my throat,
it seems “the next day”
had decided to come early.
Running to the bathroom,
party-goers splitting before me like the Red Sea for Moses
as they saw the look on my face;
(I almost made it this time, too.)
With shame all over my shirt
I reached for the toilet,
(arms outstretched like salvation was possible,)
stumbled,
and hit my head on the pristine porcelain plateau before me.
A killer ache ran through my head,
starting at the initial wound and seeping into the rest of my mind,
clearing my fuzzy brain if only for a second.
As I rest my head on my bitter-sweet friend,
rooted to the pipes below the ground
with no choice but to bear my burden,
I stared into the eyes of the
creature in the mirror.
(It knew that I knew that it knew that I was nothing.)
I closed my eyes,
if only to see something other than this being that demanded to be called Me,
undeserving of the title once bestowed upon a
charming,
god-fearing,
loving
little girl
with strong convictions.
A girl with
aspirations and hope,
not this abomination in the mirror,
(never meant to be this.)
I closed my eyes harder,
feeling the strain on my pupils,
wishing the nausea away and calling forth colours.
Bright blues,
radiant reds,
and opulent oranges.
Tunnels twisting and turning into each other,
hues and shades I had only dreamt before.
Sure it hurts your eyes, but it’s worth it.
I could never reach the end of the
recurring green tunnel,
though,
not since I was a little girl
at the meetings shutting my eyes real tight at prayer time.
Letting the colours wash over my vision,
my own words to god
at an age where words are few and insignificant,
visuals ruling over all.
If it’s beautiful and eye-catching it must be good, I had reasoned.
(I didn't grow out of that mind frame in time.)
Crash.
The sound should have brought me back to the present, but instead I dove head first into that frustrating, never-ending dull green.
When I opened my eyes, I was 8 again, -
*-alone in the dark.
With the absence of the cheerful sound of the Flinstones
that emanated from my television 5 minutes ago,
everything seems so loud.*
*The silence closes around me,
a dark cloak of anxiety and childish fears,
digging icy fangs deeper into my subconscious,
turning shadows into evil spirits
and running ghostly fingers down my spine.*
*I get up to see what made the noise before,
the one that shattered.
Each step is torture,
with every one I am more certain
that I will feel a tight grip on my ankle,
as the ghoulish monsters bring me
under the bed
to devour me
slowly,
asking me
if I’d like to know how
I taste
in their voices that drip
with slime.*
*But no monsters claw at me tonight from under my bed,
for they are already waiting,
snoring,
on the couch.
I approach him cautiously,
a man stripped down to barely nothing,
splayed out on a cheap upholstery island surrounded by shards of glass.
I do not know this man,
only the body he parades around in.
He makes deep, scary noises, far beyond regular snoring.
Something has possessed my father.*
*I try desperately to shake it out of him,
yelling “please, please wake up!”
But he won't.
Instead he responds by throwing his teeth out at me
and wetting the only piece of clothing
that he bothers to keep on.
I was lucky he wore anything at all this time.*
*Crying I run to the bathroom,
run the hot water and let it run over my hands.
Blistering hot.
My tiny hands are turning a lobster red,
but the fear seems to rush out of my every pore
and into the rushing water,
and I feel some peace return to my chaotic state.
I feel clean.*
*“Where does my money even go?”
he yells,
right before he shows me
what the middle finger represents,
“Look at you, you’re so *****
This is when the monster that hides
within his bottles begins to come out,
after it makes him
throw things
and before
it put him to sleep.*
I sit on the floor and cry, pressing my eyes so as to distract myself from the fear that keeps clawing its way up my throat.
Footsteps.
My heart forgets its size and tries to evacuate through my mouth, and I realize there is someone coming to the door and god don’t let it be the monster, please god. I open my eyes-
And there's the monster,
staring back at me,
in the mirror where I’d left it.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 5:36 PM UTC
Tick-tick-tock
Fingers dry as chalk
Merrily
ignoring the tear soaked
V-key..
Anyway,
who needs a V?
I do,
He telepathically
replies
As he tells me that he
loVes me
in a tear soaked string of lies
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 4:41 AM UTC
Inhale
Inhale
Inhale
I can’t breathe right anymore,
Ever since I've found myself
Beating down the Devils door.
“Beelzebub, Satan!
Let me in
I can’t keep running,
Father of Sin”
Trip
Trip
Trip
I can’t feel my feet touch the ground,
I’m only aware
Of this insane
ripping sound.
Barren
Barren
Barren
Looking up to the sky
I can’t help but cry,
“Lucifer what have you done
It seems heaven’s run dry!”
Empty
Empty
Empty
“Oh no, you Old Serpent!
I’m afraid my insides are out,
How can I proceed
With my intestines strewn about?”
Slip
Slip
Slip
I can not take this,
My head is pounding,
Every sound resounding,
This head ache is a killer.
I only complain
About this tension in my brain,
Since for organs
I've already found a Filler.
As the ground cackles open,
(“Look who finally answered the door!
Antichrist, you Tempter, did you not hear me knocking before?”)
I see one small problem,
A phantom tickle, a teasing *****
For in all of my life
I've never been this famished, that I can assure!
Inhale
Inhale
Inhale
The world into my now vacuous
Gaping hole of a stomach,
A true bottomless pit.
For I will not leave this life
With nothing to show for it!
No more stars, I will keep them for myself,
let the moon shine it's dull light
in the spotlight,
with no one to share it's empty stage.
And maybe now,
Converter of Angels,
With the universe stored safely
Within the wormhole in my body,
My gaping wound,
Personification of ******
Maybe now,
With Star-Filled-Guts
I will shine again.
The fiery sparks of hell
Will be no match for the likes of me,
For all who dare look
Will be blinded instantly.
I’ll be so incandescent
You’ll see me from afar
For haven’t you heard, Fallen Angel?
I’m Hell’s North Star.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 4:37 AM UTC
Tell me anything,
Anything but Reality.
Tell me I’m not made of skin and bones.
Humor me.
Tell me it’s not flesh
That you see
It is a rare substance
Made to hold a mass of creativity
Tell me I do not breathe,
My vitality, air does not sustain.
It is only pulled in constantly
To give rhythm to my brain.
Tell me my heart does not beat
That the pounding only
comes
From a billion butterfly feet.
Tell me I do not bleed
That what pours out
of my veins
Is only liquid speed.
Tell me I do not fear
That it’s only a mechanical
misunderstanding,
Or a malfunctioning gear.
Tell me I do not cry
That the moon simply controls
the water
That spills out from my eye.
Tell me I’m not helpless
That my emotions do not reign
Tell me I’m not vulnerable
That an illusion is all pain.
Tell me Love
I’ll never miss
That the cobwebs of my heart
Can be whispered gone by a single kiss
Tell me I’m the One,
That such a thing is real
Tell me that the sun
Rises at my will
Tell me I am constant
Always on your mind
That another girl like me
Is impossible to find.
Tell me there’s this puzzle
And only I can fit
That I’ll always hold some part of you
At least a little bit
Tell me I’m indispensable.
That no one can take my place
That you’ll never let yourself forget
The details of my face.
And if it’s not too much to ask
Tell me one last lie
Tell me I’m immortal
Until the day I die.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 4:27 AM UTC
Forget what they told me.
Forget what they say.
I've just got to keep reminding myself that...well that it doesn't matter.
They don't matter. They don't even know me.
How dare they look at me like they know why I do the things I do?
Like I'm uncomplicated?
I am so diverse and different they can't even begin to comprehend me...so why do they put me in a box, stick a label on me and expect me to stay there, not to break free?
But I need to be free, I need to explode from the box and jump out yelling
HA! you can't confine me!
I'll grow wings and fly out into the sky, becoming one with the birds and mixing with the colors that the rainbow makes when it eats the rain.
Cannibalistic and beautiful, and everything in between, relishing in the fact that it just IS!
I'll float and I'll drift and I'll be everything you never thought I could be.
I'll be a mix of contradictions and a perfect personification of my own personal irony. Exactly what I am or who I am doesn't matter, what I've been or who I was it's all the past in the present, it's all meaningless.
What matters is me now, drifting...drifting slowly on a feather, holding my heart and my insides on the outside for the world to see,
no more walls!
Just exposure, the most pure kind. Just a complete annihilation of all the walls I built, all the walls I built because of their intruding gazes and reproving eyes.
Everything about them filled with hate and contempt, not willing to accept. Well I accept me...ill learn to accept me once I'm drifting, once I'm floating.
When I'm away.
Far far away, above the clouds, and my head is filled with smoke, because my world is filled with haze...
but never have I felt so clearly, seen so clearly and been so clearly.
And as I burst into the craziest tears I've ever smiled,
I rain upon the world below me!
...but I'm drifting lower...
and I'm not coming back up.
.
.
But next time, next time I'll be up again, next time ill burst out of the box and next time! yes, next time! I'll burn that wretched box and never return!
...And they'll miss me for they'll see me drifting in the sky and wish they could reach the stars like i have...
But they won't, because they can't, for up here, this is my world.
One i will not share,
don't want to share
for I have made it my own.
But for now, for now I'm back, with my feet on the ground...
I'm slowly drifting back,
back...down...again
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 4:22 AM UTC