and i've been tired for so long i can't remember how alertness tastes
because boredom with life is a habit i could break
with a bullet
and a lapse in cowardice.
and when the planets align i know i could
but mars is falling and pluto,
pluto crumbled while i watched the rain.
my roman candles are alight under the clouds
and i let the rain drown the fuse -
i'm afraid to be awake.
stillborn child, i was d.o.a
why change that now?
all these pyrotechnics just
reek of desperation
so i drop mine in the lake where they belong.
with bullets on my breath i watched the rain
while pluto crumbled above
a negligent god let the universe fall,
a negligent god let words of love
be scribbled on the walls of his church.
i'm tired of life and death would be a nice vacation
but i don't speak the language
and the exchange rate is too high
so i sit by the runways
and pretend i'm leaving too.
i watch terminal patients die
and put myself in their place.
dark tattoos below the eyes
like a bad decision
another fight lost.
throw the fireworks in the gutter
and hope the sky stays dark
tonight
roman candle heart sodden with rain,
i wouldn't know what to do with consciousness if i had it.
i fell asleep by the runways and dreamed
that i lived forever
unrequited adoration,
a one-sided love affair
with death.
all my idols were runaways
and i worshiped them like an eclipse
i worshiped everything that devoured itself
and anything that dared approach
they said **** your heroes
and i dropped cyanide in a whirlpool.
the balance between insomnia
and narcolepsy
is fragile
and my inner ears burst when i tried to retrieve my
fireworks
from the bottom of the lake.
too tired to stay asleep,
i watch the rain
and catch fragments of pluto on my tongue.
dead nerves, damp fuse
alexithymia and apathy
lie along my veins like cyanosis
blue lips,
blue lips -
neptune in my mouth like a bitter aftertaste.
pluto below my eyes,
mars drowning at the bottom of the lake.
if the planets were aligned this would fly true,
but the threads are tangled
and it's another casing at my feet.
infinity is not a number, only something you can
reach for
or run from,
cowering in the safety of ze
ro.
the heresy of nonexistence,
the concept of nothing vs the promise of heaven.
in a whirlpool i found my calling.
in a whirlpool i devoured myself
and spat myself back out again,
dissatisfied with the sour taste of
stagnation.
i missed boredom when it was gone,
ached with the hole it left
and the sudden shock of
consciousness.
you know boredom has a smell?
it smells like honeysuckle
and fog
and apples rotting on the ground because
the harvest always passed us by.
i found one of those apples
and filled up the hole boredom left.
rotting autumn in my chest,
apple-heart,
ennui like a second skin
or first language.
i tried to learn another but it remains,
the language i think and smother in.
      you know
in all languages but this
my name means nothing,
just a collection of syllables to spill
out of a foreigner's mouth

in the language of death my name means nothing
but it's all i know how to say

My sister Annick fixed me, locked me in, with cold, blue eyes as she sat down slowly next to me at the table. “I’m a surgeon,” she said, not quite casually, “a board certified surgeon.”

I give her a questioning look.

“I could take your steak knife,” she says, eyeing it, “plunge it into your neck - and oh, sure, there’d be a question or two but in the end - I’d walk away clean.”

“I don’t think,” I start saying…

Tears well to near overflowing in her turquoise eyes. “I came in - officer” she says, sounding stunned and surreal. “She was having a convulsion, she exhibited severe cyanosis, I couldn’t clear her airway, it was a classic tonic-clonic seizure.” she goes on, her voice rising to near panic with the diagnosis.

“You’d never…” I start to interrupt but she gently covers my mouth with her left hand while gathering the handle of the serrated silver steak knife, expertly, into her right hand.

“I attempted to perform a tracheostomy,” she continues in a traumatized but professional voice. “but as I began a transverse incision above the sternal notch,” a tear rolls down her cheek, “Anais suffered a severe generalized-onset seizure and convulsed, forcefully into the knife”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!” I confess suddenly, as if under oath, in court.

There’s a moment of still silence.

“And WHEN,” she asked, wiping away the tear and turning the knife for a downward ******. “Were you going to MENTION IT?!”

“NOW! - before dinner!” I look around the empty room - for help - for a sympathetic jury. “It was an ACCIDENT! - I’m SORRRRYYYY!” I plead.

My sister slowly sets down the knife and says deliberately, purposefully - like a death sentence: “My Valentino sheer floral-lace top is STAINED.”

”I can FIX it!” I insist in a rush.

“Keep OUT of my room - and my stuff.” she grumbles, “And REMEMBER what I said,” she adds as she pats the knife before getting up and leaving the room.

“I WILL’” I promise to her back.

A second later, my mom sweeps in from the opposite direction.
“What’s up” she asks.

“Nothing” I almost whisper, head down.

Kiss of passion laced with mellow hemlock for suicides pleasure in a kiss goodbye,
Entered the realms of dark skies as a kiss goodnight,
A toxic tranquility as drifting away,
Glides softly into serenity via gentle paralysis,
Up and coming in gradual waves as waving goodbye,
Cyanosis catches up, heart and brain devoid of feeling,
What joy,no pain,
Slips from a nightmare,
Shaking screaming
A fiery fury as hemlock laced kiss,
Hits the final spot before dying,
Crying a fatal goodbye,
Crucified as cheerio,
Blessed incarnate no fury,
For all is not lost,
Allegedly death is the last great escapade!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

my skin is producing a cyanosis;

blue brushstrokes swirl across my melanin canvas  

because your strong hands and this toxic love is breaking me  

and I am drowning in the oblivion of this hue


                                                                                            by griff

Want you not to love me, just because you can.
But you can't.
Want you only to love me, because I'm truly lovable.
But you can't.
Huggable, soft and sweet.
I'm worth it, a million dollars it's said.
That's me, not you of course.
You're worth much, much more.
You dance night times.
I dance days.
Together in passion.
Apart a touch sour.
Feed my fire.
I fire back with true poetic inspiration.
Breathtaking in fact.
Have a degree of cyanosis.
Love has a strangle hold.
I'm strangled till I die.
(C) Livvi

Deep breaths
feeling better
looking well

In the end
a sickly grey
with blue tinges.

Just a glance of you was enough
Rapid serotonin surge giving me great triumph.
Did my heart just skipped a beat
Giving me a premature contractile treat.
Adrenaline galloped into my blood
Spawning multiple contractions that made me look ahead.
The feeling was so deep, that my cerebrum failed to process
lashings of sensory, motor and cognitive chores.
Have waited quite long to say “ I love you”,
But I never knew that my wernicke’s area isn’t giving a cue.
Don’t know how to deal with this,
A shot of ****** may sometimes give me a sigh of bliss
Duplexing happily into morphine, embracing the opioid receptors
It makes a vow to present me a warm flush of euphoria.
Oh my, was I turning blue?
A tint of cyanosis giving him a clue.
Dumbstruck seeing him walking towards me,
I just blabbered ‘are you nuts?’
Reminded by the anaphylactic shock bestowed by peanuts during my infancy.
I have to deal simultaneously with hypoxemia and hypercapnia,
My respiratory muscles giving me a sudden shut down.
And I was choking so hard,
Waking me suddenly from the beautiful dream I had.
Dreams are just the perfect elixir of life,
But in reality, just like opening the Pandora’s  box.