"bloodlet" poems
you invite
the cut,
you know you do
bloodlet come
dust off those bad humors
that have already won
one
incision
on the inside of inner-thigh,
nicely
neatly: remedies indecision for a wee bit
doesn't it?
confirm that silly string
and pipe cleaners
aren't reeeally your insides
lifely! lifely! qualifies your moves
in this
thing
this
****** sadwhirenoughenough
you jus
Buddha the hurt afterward
but emptiness of being always keeps
a few of your you's and me's around
ricocheting off far unkempt corners
like me, the pigeon
and you, the squirrel
...
look, they've already won, my love;
no,
they -always- have already won
so, plz, don't k?
jus don't
don't assemble upright-me as your
night-n-shiny handle
don't fix me la-la opposite his hard gleam
his trite inky blah bodkin Brahmin to my Bodhisattva
i can't, won't do it anymore,
my core torpid
Luke Skywalker warm
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC
I craved your soul but you wouldn't let me have a taste.
I was looking for a place to burn but you wouldn't let me warm myself.
I was after someone who'd appreciate my dying heart but you're too beautiful to care.
I would cry in the comforting disconsolate of your callous heart but I am too prideful in my worth.
I could have done anything for you.
It's never good for the heart to suffer this way but I believe in the price of penance I have to pay to find Nirvana.
I could of, would have, loved you; to allow the patience bloodlet that only demons can inspire.
But.
I wanted to love you more than I could ever love myself; so imagine my hurt when you decided I was the worthless, cut-flower ornament to your perfection.
To leave me bleeding.
To let me die.
To **** me with the care you never gave.
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 7:39 AM UTC
I have a sick obsession with pain. I always try to find different flames to feed my blood to. Bleeding frees me. After so much misery the soul just somehow develops a taste for hurting. The potency of pain flirts so well with the heart when it's despondent. Like a spark of fire in the lonely night. So I go out to the world, searching; for any sublime beauty that's greedy to hurt me. But after all the wounds, deaths and scars, you have always been my favourite to bloodlet to.
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 12:03 PM UTC
Bloodlet in a paper cup, my chalice has been broken
one that spills and fills right up when sanguine lies are spoken
half forgetting where I was, the path was long and winding
she asked me why and it's just because the breadcrumbs seemed worth finding
but please don't lose that special one, the smile within the locket
for the darkest night has just begun, and you'll need light in your pocket
when once I fell, you picked me up and dusted off my chalice
but now your words just trick me up and fill my cup with malice
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 9:01 PM UTC
Can I ask something of you?
Just a small favor
I want you to take a knife, and cut me.
Allow me bleed out all my insecurities.
Drain me of who I am
in chance that I’ll become who I once used to be.
Extract my flaws and allow me to shed this ugly image.
Guide me towards who I want to be.
Help me
Renew me.
Please just save me.
Can you do that for me?
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 9:42 AM UTC
The doom of the marsh,
Of conversations,
consonants keying the walls
The trickling, like stroked water
Delicately balancing history
Atop The Dream of Money
Enough to not feel
Not to reel
From the chokers, the faucet
The bloodlet
Nov 7, 2016
Nov 7, 2016 at 5:31 PM UTC
Here comes Jacques
On the pavement
Screaming at the sediment
Of conditional skin
People calling out, “a hack!”
When’s the next race
And when’s the next attack?
Who’ll be under the tracks?
Soul’s got no control
No more, ‘till the look is late
They seem catatonic
Stuck in the soul of fate
It is a gene state
Someone ought to stalk the hawk
His language is sardonic
See through the bottleneck?
Reliance on sonics
To repress every chronic
Malfunction of compunction
Here’s the future, bloodlet
We may not see what we deserve
Someone birthed us to forget
The role of a conscious pet
What’s within the ship’s fins?
The well-fed wield a coat of fur
Scream into the water well
It might throw something up to sell
Oct 23, 2018
Oct 23, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC