Hell to you my seductive demon! You were the damning fire to my dynamite heart
Your love was a spark towards my own self destruction spree,
You were the toxic water to my fish gills
I couldn’t survive without your malignancy swimming inside of me.
To lower back
I got none
A poison dipped
behind your back
I met two girls today.
They were young, wide-eyed.
They reminded me so much of us.
One of dirty blonde,
and the other of near jet-black curls,
just like me.
As I watched them,
it was as if I was looking through a mirror.
Parallels so cinematic,
I could hardly believe it was real.
It was friendship, in its purest form.
Laughter; like a thousand doves had taken flight.
Smiles; like the angels themselves
had manifested upon the earth.
Like I flood, I felt it-
The warm glow of the summer sun,
the crisp taste of raspberry iced tea,
and the bitter poison it took on when it all fell apart.
But they, they are young;
yet to be touched by the Devil's proud finger.
They are yet to reap the consequences
change and time may bring.
Though all we were has since died,
the Wheel continues to turn.
I see our beauty reincarnated as two souls
far more deserving than either of us ever were.
As I sit, and I watch,
I cannot help but think-
I only hope they should be so fortunate
as to escape our fate.
May Is A Motherfucker
To people. Two people, imprisoned by interpretation, mistaken by mindfulness, truth hurts the most when love lying beside oneself doles empty shoulder pockets to ache and left-arm wells where women once laid play on the tips of eyes that only past photographs and dreams could doctor up.
Old loves linger long. Old lovers' eyes ensconced amidst the taciturn untrammeled tracks of 8-track playing old memories in MP3 flash-backs like LSD astral visions from the mind dancing to eyelash trances over systematic dancers antics. Indubitably confusing youth with the modern mood antics to tear apart the current heart's sanguine and evolving romance.
Sleepless nights on stiff bed-boards, imaginary phone calls with devilish and venomous lost bottles with the notes that never arrived, but were clearly post-marked, in my collection of Rolex-Ex's I collect such humanity in an array of unorganized post-cards. But still the lack of sleep confuses me, until the immense sentiment of my lover's hand sparks my mind to drift back into a state where science and romance claim such verses in this dream dictionary to be dog-eared, glowing goose-pimples, and tingling flesh right before sleeping, like if Tristen managed to meet Juliet and Isolde met Romeo during recess and each revered the other's love card.
I'm still quaffing spit, and I don't know if I'll ever be sick of it. The seashore throws its waves, while the whales, sea lions, and hammerheads catch me off guard. Whet by my naive, following peanut-butter chocolate-coated M&Ms to where E.T.'s spaceship catches me falling from the plateau where I left Earth, traveling downwards, I let the rocks do the talking, and several of my best in friendships drown or be discarded.
To people, who irascibly need for one another, swoon and swallow each other, and cannot for a moment keep themselves apart. Who write daily, and stare quietly kissing one another constantly while the nearby mountains grow taller. And while one wakes up, the other wants so much to spend every moment together so much so he proposed to her, and vows are only words to a love that spines communicate not in speech but in neural-transmitted powers.
There are still letters. Those crowns for the kingdoms whose royalty never fully walked away. There are the kings and queens, that the servants sing to such sleeping beauties bright mornings, mid-afternoons, and until the ends collecting between them every day. Stars. Hours. Minutes and the minutia of dust-covered wooden dinosaurs deserving of better moons, suns, and oceans we'd cross together, and maybe memories are just memories and not today's unmistakeable love, that's here right now, that somehow I found, and who found that we should traverse this Earth forever.
Pain is something father's and wives truly understand. So long as I honestly share every scrap of brutal pride and ego trapped in my brain's collective consciousness, I won't have to sleep in my own empty arms, or in the spoils of hearts that confused hearts and minds, between a walk in the ocean as opposed to becoming the seashore, swallowing up the Pacific Ocean one miserable gulp at a time.
Your love hits me like waves
Shuddering and shivering we meet
But in the flow I move with you
We repel and depart
Marooned by love and hurt by war
Holding hands with you feels like a sin
That I commit over and over again
Embracing your blades and forgetting the pain
To the river bed we travel
I stay. You leave.
A love that is this way,
Can be nothing but malignant.
O yes, you are very naive
I can see that:
Out there in your own little world
Darken by the sunray
Wearing those ridiculous glasses
Sleeping with the liar looking forgiveness
O yes, you’re your father son
But do not think you will be loved again
By the woman and her son
And what maybe, might not be
I know the pattern.
Your nerves will be shattered by torture
For all those good times,
More lonely night to come
She was just as common as the others
When bitterness poison your marriage
They is no turning back
in the darkness I look around,
emptiness filling me as I promise
This Is The Last Time
my heart retching in relief of pain
it might be the last time of this
though gentle the poison i drink
it was sweetened to my liking
tasting the bitter aftertaste of it
my heart retching in pain, fooled again
my mouth not moving to promise more
red and swollen form the poison
eyes unsteady as the poison slowly kills
yet against all odds I resist death
against all wishes, especially mine
ode to a reaper that missed me again
so i promise, not my heart, my brain
This Is The Last Time
the poison came in sweet cakes today
the face I trust to feed me bread
poisoning me slowly for no emotional cost
to them, as I tear myself apart for it
my lungs quitting, but I don't need
air to breathe life back into me
death missed me with more time to spare
once again failing my every plea
for this life to end right here, now
I could not promise my heart, nor brain
I was stuck promising my soul
This Is The Last Time
as I swallow the poison down myself
giving myself enough to make it quick
slumping over down to whatever surface
would catch the swelling body of death
death did not miss me anymore
for I had done it myself, like I should have
before the pain began and for once
I had kept my promise to myself
It Was The Last Time
There are these and there are those
Words you often ignore
I'm torn between reality and exception
For many years living to exceed standard requirements
Growing trees pine needles sting like bees
I'm out done
I'm physically exhausted
Ready to start living again breathing non toxic oxygen for many years
I was poisoned
Was let down
But how the wind changes
The currents never felt the same
I guess I lost sight of it all and now I'm finding my way back home this small little hole where I place my two feet in and ground myself once more I NEVER want to be LOST
Again. For you are my new HOME