"This is who you are"
I say, tugging and scratching at the image in the mirror
I don't feel contempt.
Dry and patchy skin. A flesh palace.
For water, blood and whatnot
Can put holes in it. Decorative. Or deadly.
Wouldn't fix the toothy grin though. Even a sneer wouldn't.
My cheek is sore, so I stop pinching.
Is the soul behind it.
The ****** past the eye.
Ripping anything out wouldn't help.
He leers at me when I look.
And he answers in my voice.
"You got nothing else. "
a change is sometimes reason enough
If I could breathe freely I would,
but there are these certain factors that make it hard to enjoy the fresh night air.
There's the smoke, the pollution, the dampness after the rain -
I have no interest in company,
very preoccupied by my own thoughts as I enjoy the beautiful view of today's sunset.
Yet here you are, hard to ignore, despite being silent besides me.
And looking at you only makes me think more
call you beautiful in my mind
and light up another cigarette.
oh, how much I feel
normally the emotions spew out of me uncontrollably
then again, there is the silence
a silence that makes me harsh where you once knew me as loving
my head always spirals until I run out of thoughts
my heart always hungers until I swallow my fervour
all followed by this numbness
you might ask me if I want you to be mine
and if I was honest -
I could tell you the first metallic sip of a beer brings me much more feeling than your lips on mine.
oh, how little I feel
What makes a name "beautiful"?
Is it the letters?
Is it the sounds?
I don't find name's "beautiful";
lest there be no meaning to the people they belong to.
you **** into my heart
just that makes it hard to breathe sometimes
under your dead-weight
maybe I should move
but you settle into my limbs that cling tight around you
I suffocate myself to inhale your heavy
I like this pressure on me
Fingers find the pressure points on you
I keep you so close
and maybe you feel smothered
a goner or a lover -
whatever; pick you poison.
If you need to,
Then you can break me too.
I got lots to share,
And you have a greedy mouth.
Filthy, those private filthy whispers,
My name sounds better when it's said by you.
Paint, how this craving paints us,
The type of colour you can never quite wash off.
I don’t scrub,
And you smile at the new stains.
If you want to,
Then you can love me too.
Together we’ll once again scrape the remains of us off the floor
Mold them into fine art
People might say it’s messy
But I know how beautiful we are
After all, I got an eye for beauty
I have an eye for you.