You’re not, влюблен
But you adore when it tugs on your hair
when he’s behind
and eyes can’t meet because for long now you have been
strangers and you’ve tied your gaze away from it
Jan 19, 00:26
One day I’ll reach the end,
my mind’s weapons put to ease.
but that feeling had lost me some time ago now.
but yet,I had missed the innocent despair of hopelessness;
it just coincides so perfectly with the isolated night.
13 jan 22:59
drum drum drum she pounds
on my sleeve, upon my neck ; in my dreams.
but we adopt resistance to feelings that hurt us.
now I walk through this art gallery blind I can’t see but I think those paintings are of us
it’s the strung of the first few seconds. open a portal to when these words swarmed like flies in delusion, whithering onto your name spelt on my phone. Whisking dreams in my head. I should have turned off the light, dimmed the hope; so that they would fly away.
I hold the song in my palm as if an artifact. funny as I go to write artifact my keyboard suggests artificial as if it knows
because that’s what it was and that’s it raw. and as for me it was me who tied ribbons around the lyrics to be a certification of us that never was. it was the only part of you I could ever have when I was alone because who was I to treat you like a friend when everyone was your friend.
I’ve untied ribbons and stepped back, so far back that I have reached a time before I had known you or before I had claimed you in my mirage.
apart from tonight I gues
1:57am can’t help what’s there it’s stuck in my throat see I thought I would let some tears roll but reality didn’t let me
what was I chasing, that had the audacity to burn fires that haunt the neighbours. that put the car on running when I was off, eyes dreaming - the wheel slipping off my palms. and then over a cliff into ocean.
maybe so. maybe it was you. maybe so. maybe I am blind
perhaps I had found you on the other end of oceans;
with pens in your hand of our embrace under stars.
alas, when that star fell the other night; we pushed it. slightly.
for months I painted a/your portrait. the brush would meet the canvas at 11pm approximately every night and would last until the dawn of the am when my eyes went black and paint had splashed my face pretty.
the brushstrokes were coarse and accentuated goodness in lust and shadows in the contours. the beauty was indisputable but the colours on the pallet I had not yet mastered.
so it wasn't until the previous night or two ago when I heard the child run by my half finished canvas. as I approached it, glass shattered on the floor below it. the glass reflected my face as I seen myself in pieces.
I have renamed it self-portrait.
"when will you draw me?"
Really all this time we drove and you felt the music in you as I did and as you danced, your fingers got knotted in my hair. then inside of me.
at night I held your arm and locked it round my back over my chest - a lock to a cage that I long ago had lost the key to. you had kissed me all night long and you were so coincidently unvisible under the dimmed lights, that you were there. you would pull the hair away from my ear and lean over me warmly; then back into my ear you would regurgitate everything I had fuelled you with until I fell back asleep.
thats why it worked for so long because I lived in two people, as false and as ****** as another. and thats why you're never in because you are sick with lies I diagnosed you in. when you look its always at me. when we pass its felt the same. - thats what the poison tastes of.
next time when
the sky dawns when sun sets when the stars spill and one day in which its not pervading me over. life again you will have. one you had before my own time ascended. we can walk past each others life as humans. the name will fade from song lyrics, the face from the blackness. I will be empty because there won't be any more lies to binge.
I budge your arm off my body and your shattered on the carpet. tomorrow you will be so ****; an old acquaintance.
it’s lips poured spirits and wine
- fresh squeezed-
into my hands, into my system.
And it walks behind me sober. Watching my slurring stumbles
whilst an old sense of strength from inside me
poured from my mouth, spilling on concrete.
my legs fail me and I fall a trance. Into it’s arms.
But only for a sweet second -
and now I’m smothered lying in stone cold slate, it’s so nippy, the cold.
and it’s shadow blocks the streetlight floating above me.
Wait; streetlight is glaring dim orange again
now that it has dispersed away, down the pathway.
With open arms, it’s searching for a sober.
an old one, August 2018
Who ism “it”?, you decide.
you could say that
she is the moon that hides in daylight’s glory.
the moon at night when you see no other light.
the torch on your phone when it was late and alone.
But she was
silenced by your presence
awake by your absence.
you are the words flouncing out her hands
shapes from her pencil.
music when you were bored of speech.
direction when you glanced at a compass.
a match you sparked when you lost your lighter but needed smoke.
she will be his sun in the morning
stars at night.
for you will be her eclipse when she wanted less light.
November 14, night
but how can I get your hands
to take a match and strike it before me.
then your alight contours can dissolve
once you fling the matchstick down my throat.
I hope it catches onto this bloodstream of your soul
so it turns to ashes
that I’ll puff out -
the way you would smoke under those streetlights.
then I’ll melt every words of yours,
once engraved into my mind
with the numbing vision
of you with her.
and lastly, cool me down
- just finish me off.
plunge my skins into the
deepest point of the ocean,
so that I’ll wake up in an ocean without you.
my sleepless goodbye to you
like bait you swung before me
as my eyes drooled upon your every contraction.
tempted with mindless illusions
until you were ingested
only to find your ashes rot upon the glistening surface
of my bones.
and the rest of you
staggers to diffuse out my skin.
the nights alone, spent lurking.
swimming in another man's souled voice.
is when I apologise for the aching marks I bruise upon myself.
because I've rinsed my heart, clenching my fists.
then ringed it out until there are no senses to swallow
the desperate urge for pain,
from someone else.
to numb the knife of loneliness
which I caress in the dark, then slit.
then I dance this pen,
until it's ink recklessly glides upon bare lines that
pleaded desires sing for pain.
to wipe off this blood, that won't dry
until it has someone to scar for.
but again I'll still stay slicing.
blaming ghosts, dreams, hallucinations.
to wound up isolation.
choke out any last lingering tears
to dilute the escaping blood
in attempt to stain.
to remind me,
that I hurt for something.
pick me up
before your eyes seize the day.
i’ll be the last words
imprinted on your tounge.
the last words you hear in the night.
when the stars are the only ones watching
they can’t see
what’s written on these pages,
from so far away.
you awake sudden
and keep writing inbetween the lines
leaving it all just drenched
in your pen marks.
There was always this box hidden under his bed.
One day he fled, and she crawled,
slicing it out from curtains of webs
and wrenched it out of the hands of his secrets.
Inside she discovered her heart, raw
from when he last yanked it out from her.
Veins, nerves unattached
to fool her from feeling,
to engrave his own illusions into her head.
Now she’s cradling it so tenderly.
Rinsing off his fingerprints with her tears.
Occasionally learning how to ***** it back in.
3 April 00:12
He’s been gone for a while now,
trying to regain myself
my heart is empty because you burnt it dry
leaving my love limited,
because half of it burns away slowly under your sleeve.
I’ll show you.
Its these words, that are vivid
of the weapons that you had used
whilst you butchered me.
9 April 22:33
put down the knife and fork,
and stop cutting at your gnawing,
there is no doctor with a pill
to eliminate walls of loathing affliction.
nor is there a constructor
to knock them down.
12 April 00:10
Blindness bright emerging
You catch me, a deer in the headlights.
of your headlights - head-lights
but the blue ones - that linger in two on your face.
the ones I let myself see rarely
the crystal ones that I swim in
amongst a daydream. that sometimes I drown into.
You brake as your presence ****** the surface of my skin.
didn’t mean to bump that polished shine on your car.
(Your teeth are shining)
Brake, the gears,
whilst I’ll waver on further,
back to my subtle distance muted in the dark.
sorry I’ll go faster. return faster to where I was heading,
before your lights outshine my being.
See me run back to shadows under dulling streetlights -
before I let those headlights consume me whole in blaze.
Look then I’m gone, unharmed.
So go, continue with your ride. I’ve left you untouched
forget it. maybe until next time.
when perhaps I’ll want to play real victim of a crashing collision.
as I crossed the road
bathing myself in this thirsting quench
and now I’ve come to see you
as a drug. a pill.
but not prescribed.
Staring blackly at me
on my bedside table
and it’s teasing me.
teasing me with the sugar cane
that erupts when it skims my tounge -
alluring my own deception with your
that unravels it’s way down my whole
voice until there’s none left.
And its just the way it sets me so ablaze
that I cremate casually in your
Knuckles clench to restrain that
sentiment that nostalgia
that world that lies behind your door I always see myself
linger through ghostly.
I’ve never been
my urge my battle to stop myself from you
my duvet once hugged me, now it morphs
that coil my bones to themselves and fix my fingertips to my fists and I swing my arms behind me clasped.
anything to keep you clean out of my system you see.
the night which once was dreams,
now a prison.
the solitude confining me in shrinking walls and a drying mouth whilst my eyes tear open by the pounding crave.
the red slithers through their frail veins until the aching urge sends them to close;
morning you lie vestel. but your taste lumbering in my gum
- I wouldn’t say I’m an addict:
but you make it far too easy when you lie in the palms of my hands and dance in electric through my skin.
your hopeless pervading detains me from rehabilitation.
When I kiss the sun.
I am reborn and I am new, and we are one.
I am awoken and alight.
My temperature spikes and I am blind.
All I see is sun
the stars are watching us
the humans are watching us.
I make their planet dark - whilst I kiss their sun.
She is mine, I see her never, I miss her.
She gives me life I return her love.
We grow young and we live forever.
We stop time because we are their time.
If only we could stop time.
For it won’t exist.
They may have no light
And we are selfish because we love
When we kiss.
I wish to be beautiful without you thus I am not.
For with you my eyes green and my face alight.
My hair burns I am burning.
Burn as we kiss I die.
you ***** it in so easily,
it's always been there - holding on by its last edge.
but you twist it in further and further.
until its impaled,
because now it seems you've broke through already
as its slowly piercing, infecting;
invading my every layer of sense.
so you're chirping away at me,
because your presence lacks.
but see, you're ruthless
with that cradled hammer
that you clutch in your left
as your right mangles in empty air.
you're pounding it,
down into my skull.
tell me, because I don't know
when your hand will stop its manic.
and I don't know how much,
you desire to poison me.
see, I don't even know
if you watch the way in which you
compose your hands to ravage
deeper and deeper
into this head of mine.
24 march , 20:06
you spiralling in my head
Before me you sat framed
infused hypnotic eyes
with your liquor of sorrows parched at your left.
Tracing your fingers as they clenched each card continuously -
as if your mind was programmed by your own demon.
As each one failed, you were stripped of your dignity
your worth. You would then seep further into that chair.
Still I would watch, incase you drowned.
Then again the cards would pile upon the dusted table
and you threw them so feebly, so hastily.
And I held your time in my hands
remorsefully as it poured out my own creases
You told me you were hurting,
the sight of this ripping paper, shredded by your eyes
only reminded me of how you once tried me.
I didn’t lose it for you, nor did you win with me.
5 April 21:06
It was one after the other with you
You build a garden,
a rose is planted - the most beautiful flower
a tiger is born - the most beautiful cat
tiger tears eats destroys the rose’s petals
she is bare.
rose grows thorns , will she scare?
she’s too beautiful to stand there alone to the tiger
he pervades her bloom, until she has flourished a spectacle
his teeth caress those petals to shreds
her thorns, pierce his mouth,
out pour all sorts of reds.
they live beautifully and painfully in one another
00:18 October 11
An essence of pain through each beauty
she’s burning violently.
from the hours you spent
masterfully drizzling gasoline
upon her vestal skin.
it seems your match finally engulfed her.
These nights I pretend to myself
and whisper to myself that
maybe he knows love
pretend you know love;you don’t.
you are confused why he still pervades you.
what you say in your head isn’t spiralling there alone.
maybe it spirals him too
But I am told that
God calls lying an evil sin.
And through Eden,
God tried to say to the world -
that lust is demolishing.
( but who is god to say)
it’s all so beguiling
and god yes it’s demolishing,
when reality resurrects every day and I am
thrown to watch it before me
even if I close my eyes
or bite my tongue till blood.
only the lying evils sins I whisper
will wipe the blood clean.
I don’t think god runs this place
who is he to judge
he dug gold,
fresh out of her heart
until her bones were left shrivelling,
by stenching coal.
her mines grow empty,
though he returns on a blue moon
in attemp to shovel out any last morsels.
clinging onto their cave by bare strength.
The way in which goosebumps electrocute and run down my skin when I awake, to shield from the cold mornings -
Is the same way I cast myself closed when your presence threatens me, so I don’t melt into my weakness.
Mum turns the heating on but I still shudder.
You slip away but I still suffer.
9 September 1am something
he splits the world into two
half into illusions, spells of daydreams. coated in love stories and poetry. sprinkled in lustful gazing.
other half, the dawning reality of the nothingness that has so many pages. I flip through needlessly to try understand it all . I never do. I try to pull my head out of clouds, I never can.
its not real it won’t ever be
1:43 after seeing reality
A black is wading with my blood
it’s no longer red.
You’ve left me here to heal with wounds raw open.
Left me to love without showing me what it was
( remember I can only learn from demonstration)
And left me to cry without any more salt tears - because you drank the rest after dinner.
Now I spends days with a knife inbetween my sweet fingertips
searching for the blood, that you have left me without.
I search kitchens for a substance so overpowering
that it will strip my insides bare and wash them clean of your toxins that have spilled in places I can’t reach.
Then find me caved in this void
where I pull the trigger at my head (metaphorically)
countless times a day until my stupid thoughts leak out
and drip onto the puddles.
and all that turmoil inside pours down me,
showering me in your illnesses.
Lights are put out by the last exhales I breathe.
you winded my lungs out of use and now I sit in dark.
I’m barricaded in deafened voices
which I do not hear over your
Hands are worn numb
from ripping up pages which have your name imprinted on each line in fantasies.
Senses drunk from words you forced to run down my throat and my body is flooded by your lips and I find myself bent over,
vomiting the **** you fed me.
In bed I’m cradling myself to sleep in peices.
Don’t you dare let me see you
in a dream tonight.
A let go
I went on this diet
where all I could eat was words.
They trudged through my guts
stopped my awareness of reality.
I was hungry
and I craved to speak.
But I wasn’t meant to.
So I snacked privately on solitude.
the night was my mind spinning
and counting up
then regurgitating my sinful mistakes.
On cheat days,
I was allowed to ******* tears.
I binged on the salt all day long.
Until they told me stop,
because I looked too full
As the day ended,
my collected tears were thrown down the drain.
And I plated up my words
to begin my meals again.
If you look directly into the sun,
when it rises only midway above the branches.
When, if you look extensively, prolonged by the thought of blindness
I see you.
As if you shower me in your own radiance
though I know you only hypnotise me
as you do with them all.
Your warmth on minus levels
and your light after thunder.
Still has a capacity to sheerly strip me of senses
if you are there for too long.
Though they have always missed you when you hide,
we are told to protect ourselves from you burns.
November 18, 8:44am
You in the morning before anything else
I need to show you, the way that
you are slowly
hammering, pounding, crumbling me
That I know will only hopelessly scatter behind you
as you leave again.
Write you a book,
with as many pages as days,
that you have imprinted my dreams.
Frame every single photo in my heart,
which you have seen through your eyes.
Extract this turmoil,
which hurls in your blackened head.
And then fold it neatly by my bedside,
unfold each crease gently
and feed it pure, back into you.
I thought you might have needed me for a moment
and I thought I had you safe.
Stop being such a cacti.
I’m only trying to move you into sunlight,
to let you learn, grow.
You were such a cacti
because you peirced me with your blunt needle.
yet I still bled,
because it still peirced me through, and skimmed my bloodflow.
I didn’t cry
because I realised that is just simply you.
You were such a cacti
when I tried to water you, my dear.
I only wanted to keep you alive
keep you radiating.
Keep you, as you.
your dagger imapled me.
From my finger and gushed into my left chest.
I now understand you
because you won’t hesitate to grow without my nurture,
and won’t hesitate to peirce with my love.
14 November, night
nurtured in the arms of another's.
birthed in homes inside their minds,
and told to stay low
told we have wings -
not told to use them.
because they might fail us.
our dreams might fail us.
so our sight blocked, to only the
array of sunset.
we sleep through sunrise
- at least they do.
but see we,
we await, we wait until the
sun breaks way,
swallow the waves
eat another into oblivion.
whisked together as the sun turns to us
when she tires from her previous scene
she livens at us.
do not anticipate until she bares full.
do not hesitate until she kisses your iris to black.
fly out to her
and see if wings dissolve like we were told they would.
see if you are dreaming
discover if you are awake.
feel how close to death you are
taste it, but swallow your presence.
when she begins to melt you.
remember that they told you that burns will ****.
who told you the sun will ****** our home, when her end comes.
fear not. fear is your friend.
the sun knows she can impale you so
deep with radiance.
but do not fear,
because last night was when you dreamt of the sun -
and now is when she killed you.
because you were too near.
to the dream.
to follow them will thrill.
and **** once you love them
but what won't ****.
so visit the sun if you dream of her
let your dreams burn you.
because at least you tasted them.
all I can ever ask,
is promise me you'll play this on your record
when you're alone - before you sleep.
blanketed in blackness.
and your veiled demons begin to lurk
when they tune into your open void.
apparitions of me pervade the ambiance
the rolling base
that rings through you veins
and those lyrics that seem to melt into your blood.
drenching the demons that are wading to ****** you slowly.
I couldn't say that
I didn't **** myself they same.
26 march, 21:27
If we sped one night in your motor
in ghostly sleeped streets.
Onto a highway, overtaking nightshift drivers.
Their anger would only echoe and
bounce of your back screen window.
Street lights would fade
into roads which passed their trails.
And your senses would dissolve into the music as we rode.
Your fumes polluted the air so much that night,
but I left you forgiven
because it was your last.
The last image in my iris of you flashed,
as my skin was scarcely stabbed.
Your cigar was put out by the force
before your lips could ever taste it again.
It’s last fire was gushed out
by my bottled tears which spilled on the surface.
Then I seen you impaled
your heart oozed out onto the steering wheel,
that had steered us to the end.
Your fingers were the surf that melted into the ocean.
As were your eyes,
enclosed in a forbidden sleep to ensure that
you never awoke and remembered.
But each night I wade with the birds
who sing at the cars looting by
and I inhale their fumes, crying because
they still have miles left unlike you did that night,
when we sped
and you stopped.
21 February, 21:50
when the car raced outside
With me, I walk blindly forward as my mess is overturned behind me as I sulken dream. To turn round eventually I find all that’s been done, with me left to tidy - to replenish and erase the mess that has already *******, spread rapidly into every corner of my insides. The lights go off when it burns off and the ashes tend to tell of time wasted of thirst and sense of waiting for his return.
I’m then diving into the spiral of aftermath that leaves itself to solve without answers. Heart stretches further and further away from its halves to avoid being engulfed by incoming wave which floods of knowing I would never have you.
the pen I resist from daggering into my wrist so it’s ink can bleed into my insides with mellow wordly turmoil.
- See though, alone I thought I was safe. But those words that dropped out her mouth so unimpeachably illustrated you breaking into me. At that very moment. And unleashing the demons from their cage. I think I feel them gnawing now.
16 April 21:55
As if I’m going to wash my sins,
by finding a substance so viscous - to annihilate the acid
that seeps through me.
Perhaps it’s you refilling my first glass,
which is dried up by 11,
and replenished by 5 past.
Must I keep forcing it down my refusing gut,
so I can bare the stutter drooling,
crumbling, out your teeth.
Till I’ve sipped needlessly on your lies
and fell drunken on your delusional fables.
Now I’m slurring in my nights,
awoke, still high on your acid.
Eyes are bulging, bloodshot
from you firing bullets of your decaying burden.
As I walk I stumble,
diverging around solum streets.
Crows peck at my skin, to prompt me at sunrise.
Now and again I revisit
the morsels I had collected from the bottom of your chalice.
Savouring as I gulp down my regret.
Desperately urging to be hungover your reveries
one last time.
11 April, 00:31
I’m preparing myself for it all one day
if you cannot tell yet;
I have poured you out scripts, testimonials, fantasies
I question myself at every letter.
For what reason I write,
For one who can’t read.
Who was I to have you inked into my skin,
who was I to ever think it was all right for me - when I was blind.
Who was I to write
when I can no longer spell.
7 October, 3:01am
regretting it all in the am.again i always do
I lie amongst sheets
that never blanket, but only skim my skin.
The drift bites, encourages the ice
to gradually mould into me
And every night the door is keyed shut
and the window closed, blinds turned
to rule out night.
Yet I manage to smell your steps
crumbling up the bricks
and pervading my neglected presence.
Whilst I awake drenched
solely shedding tears to wash your poison
still stained my pillow.
I’m going solo
in these mind games that
you’re not even playing
but it seems you’ve bet me.
My air is tight,
I have no spur to run for you
because you know you’ll get beyond me.
Before I even realise that you
left me miles behind
still wading hopelessly waiting for you
in this whithered race.
25 February, 20:49
I was hopeless for you
and slowly, sparsely
it’s fading away from me how it feels to
to be burrowed into the night’s portal of regret and despair and urge to escape.
and to write even,
and to see life pass by with a name intertwining each of its pieces.
in whole all I can say is maybe it isn’t so extreme but
when the heart aches it is drowned down below you and drips out salt from your eyes until the cries can’t go unnoticed ;
it’s challenging to sleep.
on the other hand for now my sleep is whole and I dream often
to begin the year
January 3 2019 , 1:20am
Take off your shoes
because she didn’t want
any traces of the dirt
leftover from the days you spent without her.
Drops, from the water
that night that you had drowned
in the lights of the ocean
with other souls.
take off your jacket because
her perfume is still stained
on the collar.
it was all him but he was never aware
After showering myself in needles
and stitching my wounds open with my self appointed meds
I plastered up my tear ducts. It seems.
my rivers are droughts
my heart at thirst.
I’ve scrubbed hard enough
to uncover your name needled black
inside my index below my chest and on the tail of my ear.
how have you not mentioned you as an artist?
Such an artist that
what you engraved is temporary,
whilst I don’t recall the needle broke into my skin
If he can
rob your last morsels of self love
If he can
so gently butcher your heart,
tear out and slice every nerve until nothing remains
If he can
drive you to this pen at the yawns of night,
to spit out any words that still fail to illustrate how
he erased you
If he can
lead you by the hand to a glass ocean - below it’s depths,
and never let your neck bare the surface
If he can
**** up your sleep
when he haunts every last dream
If he can
eletrecute you down to raw bones
on a clear night
why can’t he fix you?
3 February, midnight