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jacky Oct 2015
so sad today
jacky Jul 2015
i can't stop it.
an addiction. i'm an addict.
no self discipline, no control
my hands, my fingers keep returning
and returning on
my chapped lips

it began last week. cold day,
caught a cold. breathing through my mouth.
sick and dry
dry lips.
there's an itch on my finger, i began to touch
my chapped lips

i thought it was a one time thing,
something reversible, something stoppable.
i was wrong, i was dumb, i was so wrong.
when my fingers stopped retaliating the blood,
it, the addiction, turned my teeth onto warriors
on the scrimmage on
my chapped lips

one night, i stopped
in the morning it was worse.
a wound hasn't healed, and another
on top of it. skin and flesh, on a rotating schedule
i'm scared but i don't stop. i'm scared
but my body just turned its back on
my chapped lips.

nothing has changed. blood and wound
scar and then wound,
i haven't stopped. and now i'm not scared.
i thought, i'm good at healing.
so, my chapped lips

will stay. scars may come,
but it's just my lips.
nothing good
has ever touched
my chapped lips.
a quick one. i hope you get the metaphor and the message i am trying to send (wink). // if you ever want to talk - hit me up! It'll be great to talk to someone from here. Thanks!
jacky Jul 2015
breathing, still breathing,
in and out,in and out, in and -------

cliffhanging loud beats
one, two, one,
       two, one
   and two

pulsating pace, closing time
cold fingers, toes, neck
dried pale kisser
buried irises, fluttering lids
in and
           out, in and -------
one, two, one, one and two

knocked out, shut down
paralyzed, stunned, running out
blood, there's blood
somewhere, everywhere, all around
open skin, trembling wrist
blood, there's blood
in and
             out, in and out, in and ------
one, two, one,
                 two, one and two

lights out, lights back on,
phone ringing, door slamming
sirens coming
mother, screaming
diluted sounds, distant thoughts
in and out,
                      in and out, in and ------

still alive, still alive
             still                alive          
still -
i smile
a new piece for an old habit... triggering, but please don't succumb into it. please.
jacky Jul 2015
i consume the continuous days without nighttime
and greater shadows afflict mine. towards the edge
a body without mass they had no power
to gravitate towards the ground. In my throat
there's a soundless scream and an abyss of burials
no one attended. and in case the mindless tongues,
the senseless sensates, and the human brainiacs, cared
the sky would be my dance floor, and the atmosphere would still
drive me breathing it in. a mismatch of socks,
a counterclockwise swing, a cold cup of coffee,
a bullet sans its gun, and a gun with the imaginary trigger -
i am no good. i am no good.
reflects what i really feel // i hope you like it.
jacky Jul 2015
I have got this  idea,
a stupid wish, a nonsensical desire
of being in a car accident.
Hear me, I want you to.

I prefer to be in the backseat,
seat belt on, and a frequent mannerism
of looking down, in front
on the driver's dashboard. I do that,
I always want to know the speed
and how fast the others outside this space
of metal and cushion. I don't want to be the driver,
knowing myself, I would not get myself into one.
I am a safe *****, that is all.
Then, here goes nothing -
I want the car to crash. I still haven't made my mind
on where or what are we going to crash.
Maybe a wall. Maybe another car. Maybe a post.
I want it to be something solid, but not alive.
Trees are the exceptions. I want the car
to kiss that solid thing, head on.

I don't want the pain that may come along,
I don't want to call it a near death experience,
I want that instant where -
everything seems unreal
or too real my head would not be able to
understand. I want that portion of time
where I decide do I close my eyes or not,
that moment that I will have my life question itself.
And I don't wish death I don't wish to live, either.
Just that moment, where I could think
how instantaneous life can be.
I want that tick of the clock
the clashing of realities and dimensions..

I want that moment,
I need to feel that moment of being just between death and life
where everything doesn't matter anymore, but I still know
they exist.

I have this stupid idea,
nothing so important, nothing so surreal
but to wish this
is the demand I am willing
to pursue.
here goes nothing /// just needed to let this out
not really sure if I gave this poetic justice but what the hell
jacky Jul 2015
I long for the time,
when you are not “you”,
or “she” or “he”, or any
of the words I write. Not a hint,
not sign of you being “you”,
in each line “you” appears, it will not be you.
And I have found a new definition
of “she” or “he”, not even
the shadows of my words
would tell you that it’s “you”.

And in that day that it’ll come,
I’ll look back at this piece
of prayer, that my “you”,
will not be *you
a quick one // still finding it hard to really write so this may not be the best but at least it's something right?
jacky Apr 2015
Was I wrong?
My mind fails me
and to conjure the right words
the answers embraced nothingness
I always think
you flawed my reasoning
you were what was missing

over and over, I say
I am not mistaken or fooled
dressed in my fantasies
the idea of you and i
we will be alive
until our bones get tired
I promise.

You are a vagabond, you always were
like a migrating flock on a foreign land
again and again,
amongst all those wanders
I begin to carve on my skin.

You will find warmth in me
and you will erase all your hues
you will begin to love me

I hope you all will like this.

P.s. I don't care if I'm cheesy or corny, *******. (whoever you are)
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