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Sigilism Aug 2011
Later, I'd swear that the empty bottles
and the smell of smoke had
rotted my clothing away

I think I may have tried scrubbing myself
with dirt; i found blood on my hands and my feet
the next
morning

sweat was everywhere in my eyes
the only thing that made the stench
go away was soaking myself in perfume until
my skin pruned
and i couldent breathe

no sleep, no heatbeat here in this body
who needs breath
who needs love, after all

break the mirror, replace your artificial beauty
scream "wantmeneedme saveme"
watch them want  you.throw out your artificial hope.
replace your broken records

now start to play them all again
Sigilism Aug 2011
Chocolate rabbits from hell

My feet hurt from stepping
On chocolate eggs
And I have to look at my mom
As she watches me
Push the basket of chocolate aside
as i sit down for breakfast

and I have to ignore
the two brats
beside me
gorging themselves
on
little
round
pieces of
fat.

I remember last year
Jelly beans, crème eggs,
All that **** that I now
refuse to cram in my mouth;
Im not adding to
the reserves of pudge on my
hips/thighs/arms/stomache
inside and outside
everyday i
bloat

mirrors
****

I can hear sloshing in their stomaches
As they stand
Hockey practice, hockey practice
They’re carried off by chauffers,
My parents

For the rest of the day
Ill be alone

Last year that would have meant
A choco-fest, and I miss it a bit
As the hunger that no one will notice
begins to set in
rough draft
Sigilism Aug 2011
i’ll hold onto this innocence
like a spider web waiting to tear.
(poisonous arachnid,
are you jealous of those
with only one set of eyes?)
Sigilism Mar 2012
Your lips
are not the cure
     to this doubt,
though I am assured by your
             vehemence
     and the way
     you look at me
when I ask
            what this all
            means to you.

Your lips
     are not the cure
to this doubt,
         yet I’ve begun
         to believe you;

        Tomorrow
you may burn
           your roots
           and bridges,
but the time
we have spent
            will mean
   “something”.

This I know,
though your lips are
        no cure
  for this doubt.
line spacing is slightly wonky on this website
Sigilism Aug 2011
I guess I just want to be the sane one, the normal one, the one who’s always in control and you can count on. I want to be the fun one, the entertaining one, the one that can always make you laugh. I want to be the honest one, the vulnerable one, the one that you want to be there for. These stupid ******* contrasting personalities, I want to be them all.
Sigilism Sep 2011
tranquil pain   holds  this
facade
pinioned to a past that never was.
when i awoke this morning
were you there?

or were you gone
living your life without me
Sigilism Aug 2011
if one person were to reach down
and lend me their hand;
i would not be too proud
to take it.

let me pull myself
to my feet
and cease crawling midst the dust
of the life i used to have.

i would stop looking for dimonds
in the coals
and pick frayed ribbons up off the floor,
left over from all of the love given to me while
i was in the dark
and could not see.

i would wipe any tears from my eyes
and accidently smudge my face
with mud, I'm sure.

and you who saw me
and knew i was alone
would laugh sadly
and tell me;

‘everything's gonna be okay, love
yeah everything's gonna be
alright.’
i'm not too fond of this poem myself, but as it's my creation , i'm obliged to love it despite it's choppiness and awkwardness. truly they're only faults of my own
Sigilism Aug 2011
If you really love me enough to
let me go without a fight
or a protest or even a “Please,
stay here with me,” then I suppose
I love you enough to walk away
without saying  

goodbye.
Sigilism Aug 2011
"Kiss me." you said, even though
you don't love me,
and I?
I loved you but then again,
that's over now.

Now the only thing left of the past
seems to be you here in front of me.
"Kiss you?" You nod,
and grin.

But I know
you're afraid of love.

So don't hurt me,
you fool.
Sigilism Aug 2011
Darling, you were nothing
but the drug
that I’d been looking for.

I shot
your poison
through my bloodstream
and bled my love out through
my wrists.

when i looked up at you
and smiled
I didnt "Want a one nighter
(?)"

When you
woke up the next morning,
what made you stay?

What
made you think
that you could fix
a broken
thing like
me?
Sigilism Aug 2011
The ache she felt in her jaw
Continued to throb
even after she thought
“this is the point when
I should be too
exhausted to feel
anything
anymore.”

turned out
that particular point was
a lot farther away than
she’d thought.

But
She found it,
alright
not particularly clever or cheerful
Sigilism Aug 2011
the drinking, the fighting,
all the subtle ways i
try to **** myself,
a little at a time;

i'd give them all up
if you loved me.
Sigilism Aug 2011
so yesterday. they
            told me about
this thing-
                  -ADD. it's
-weird.
-people who have it    are weird
                          they told me
i've got it;
i'm weird.
i don't feel weird
or at least-           i didnt
                             'till yesterday
but i'm the same as i've always been


it's    complicated. i'm not
     hyper
(or stupid or lazylike i've always though i was)
it's called 'inatten
                                 tive' adhd

thetruthisI'mnormal
but i forget stuff
but i can't concentrate
but i can't study
and i zone out
and i daydream
                             and it all sounds so normal.

but i wish
   it were a matter of
                        willpower
             and getting organised
and getting my ****
                                  together
like my parents tell me to.

wish i could convince them
    it's not some alien religion
i'm not stupid or lazy or- "what the hell is
adhd. that's
                                just an excuse
getyourshit                                              together."

yeah, alright. i know.
i try.
Sigilism Aug 2011
Ha! You
*******,
I deleted my Facebook because
I never gave a ****,
and neither do you.
Sigilism Aug 2011
i never meant a word i said;
i just wanted some proof i was still alive
wherever i could find it,
(even if that meant in the little bits of pain i felt
making the day run like streaks of rain
into tomorrow.)
is the title okay?
Sigilism Aug 2011
I know enough to know
I could never hold on to you,

so pull me close, let me
live in this moment; let me
pretend that tomorrow
you'll love me
Sigilism Aug 2011
Sink Deeply into something
other than Despair
for once.
why don't we all just
sink Deeply into
Euphoria,
and sing Loudly from
the bottom of
our Chasm
i think it needs a bit more work but it's almost there
Sigilism Aug 2011
it helped the pain but
woulden't hide the bruises
no matter how she
begged

makeup coulden't cover it so
she skipped class, remembering
last time she had to
explain the bruises
on her face
away

failed the class because
she coulden't scream
or the neigbors would know
and it happened again and
again

grew up
like a sick and sadistic
broken bone
Sigilism Aug 2011
Some days I can’t decide whether to be a modern day poet or not. Sometimes I wake up thinking “butterflies.”, And I decide that maybe I’d like to be an accountant instead, forcing number after number into some poor overstuffed calculator all day. I’d be the talk of the office, “Have you seen that ****** over in cell #2?”, “The one who just sits there looking at her calculator all day?”, “Yes! She just sits around muttering ‘When’s it going to explode? When’s it going to explode’?”
Then some other poor sucker’s calculator would explode and he’d be horribly scarred, and they’d all realize that I was sane after all. But of course by then I’d be off in some horrible asylum by then, having my frontal lobe chopped off.  So maybe I wouldn’t make a good accountant. There’s no money in poetry though, that’s my problem, you see? If I could sit around typing lyrical nonsense all day and actually be paid for it, well that’d be cool. However if that ever did happen, chances are I’d be off in some distance land universe writing the holy bible for a bunch of seven fingered goats or something.  I don’t like goats. Back to butterflies? No… I have nothing to say about those either. The truth is, although I’d love to be one of the inspiring people who goes around raving about the evils of money, im more liky to be the one chasing after the guy giving that lecture yelling, “WELL IF YOU DON’T WANT IT, THEN GIVE IT TO ME!”
And then I’d store it in some dark corner in my bedroom as I lay on my bed and wrote until I passed out from some disease called life that you can’t put off living just to write in that little hidey-hole in your mind.
Sigilism Aug 2011
you thought you wanted
the truth at any cost, even pain

but the truth had
lay on you so heavily you hadn’t known pain.
you hadn’t known how it felt to have it
curl up in your stomach and
bleed into your veins.
you didn’t know the feeling of
a misery that increased with every heartbeat
as it  penetrated  your everyday living and breathing .

you never knew that
the truth felt like this.

— The End —