Desire and
All the sweet pulsing aches
And gentle hurtings
That were you,
Are gone into the sullen dark.
Now in the night you come unsmiling
To lie with me
A dull, cold, rigid bayonet
On my hot-swollen, throbbing soul.

it’s the skin disease that is my sickness
It’s the red dots
                  (hurtings, blemishes, scars)
                         and not my face I see
It’s the
                                 d e s p e r a t i o n
                                  on display
                                  of my insecurities, and
  so it worsens my insecurities
  
The hermeneutic circle;
                                             fact is fact
So, on my face
       desperation is visible
                     sadness in my mind;
         emptiness in body;
— but explosions on my face
  That is all I see
       It's all
            I
                     am.
I am a
                    sickness.

**august 2014

The sequel to "Heavenly"

The rest of us
will decompose here,
but now you have purpose,
the muse behind my verses,
forget fairytale curses;
you* will never die,

So place me underground,
darling you will still be
safe and sound,
up above from here
I see who you are,
but they are all below,
below your worthiness,
dainty star,

On the eve of the day
when I'm mourned by the fakes,
they'll be praying for my amazing grace,
but it'll be too late,

There's no spot in a dead heart
for those who tore it apart,
and my monsters will cover your
sunshine and they'll **** your spark,
I'll wish I could be there,
Ten thousand tears wait to be spared,
I promise I cared,
I just never shared
all my hurtings, and now
they've killed me,

I will beg to have you released,
I'll beg on my knees for
all the darkness to leave you
and entertain *me,
But I'm afraid to fully dive,
Don't know how far I could drive,
Metaphorically, I'm at the shore
I don't know what I'm drowning for.

Shed all the pain of past hurtings,
It taints your furure,
Forgive.

Remove fear of future disappointments,
It  denys you laughter,
Believe.

We are just scared children.
Who don't understand why were in this world.
we have the blade in our hands.
and the scars on our wrists, from previous hurtings.
Sometimes we just need to let go.
One cut.
Two cuts.
Three cuts.
God only knows when we'll stop
maybe when were dead?

Sometimes holding on
does more damage than letting go.
It does more damage
Trying hard to know.

Why some things in this world,
Just won't fit?
Why two special feelings,
After all have to split?

It hurts to think
that you have to let go,
Try to move on
And just let the pain flow.

But sometimes
It's hurtings that makes us stronger
It's like building a bridge
just to get over.

While watching all those painful memories,
Wash off and Go away.
You'll notice that you're Moving on,
Day by day.

Some say that a broken jar
Is worthless and nonsense.
Broke into pieces,
Negatively priceless.

But try to fix it
Using a molten gold,
It'll be more precious than ever,
Nothing that has been sold.

Just like in life
There are times that we feel shattered.
Due to every heart aches,
We all feel battered.

With all those positive thinking,
You'll have a great mold.
With that positive thinking,
you'll have the molten gold.

To fix your broken heart,
To move on and let go.
And Have a golden Heart
For the one who deserves it so.

Trying to lose the shadow of my past
Every night it reminds me of who i am

It stalks me and constantly talks to me
Trying to direct me to my old ways

Those feelings are about gone and
my shadow seems to be changing

It now looks for a clean life without hurt
The hurtful ways have seemed to vanished

The mindset is very new and very driven
Hurtings has changed to helping others

The angry side is now the kind side
The manipulating side is now the teaching side

Anyone can change if you want it
Never think you are invensable

Because one's time does come!!!!!!!

True love is shown
Fake love is what I got

Selfless love is shown
Pain is what I got

Wish for others' happiness
Tears are what I got

True love is what  I expected
still I got hurtings
hurtings
and hurtings...

I was cheated
I was used
I was befooled
I was broken.

11/28/2017

"Desire and
All the sweet pulsing aches
And gentle hurtings
That were you,
Are gone into the sullen dark..."
Ernest Hemingway

Pain
because the sky is darkening
and turning bruise blue.

I glance out the window
look for some kind of answer
and nothing comes to me.

Seasons change like paintings outside the windows
Nestled in, looking out, they never seem to care
Only my path seems to be clouded in winter
Look around there's never a chance I dared

In the darkest there's a light at the end of the tunnel
The one I thought was lost and hated from before
It's bittersweet, the way it rises from its ashes
When I could've swear I wouldn't see it anymore

And I can see it taunting me and promising new hurtings
I can hear it burning like it never stopped
There's a duality of wanting it to fill me completly
And walk way, turning my back to never pass that door

Leap of faith is such a tantalising thought
Devoid of meaning, a ghost vanishing in the air
Constructed worlds are populating my subconscious
But I truly know not a part of them will ever be there

Seasons changing as they always do
Numbing cold, complacent heat shaping the atmosphere
Lungs breathe an illusion of life
I move away but I can't disappear

Seasons changing, fog remaining inside

My whole life we've been
a generation about to collapse.
An abanboned cigarette burned
down to a cylinder of ash.
We get up each day
full of new aches and old hurtings
and we make our commutes
to chain ourselves up to our hauntings.
We find ourselves caught in forever.
Our fingers break, our nailbeds bleed
as we scratch at eternity. Stuck fast as flies
our bodies shake out sorrow and need.
We're preached body positivity
and self ******* care
by billionaires with no intent
to ever ******* share.
We look at heavily curated streams
of the lives of friends, who boast
their picture perfect weekends
and wonder what we could ever post.
Between work and sleep
we manage something like twenty-three.
That's hours a week we don't owe.
For less than a day you can find us free.
People scream at us to fix it
while giving no proffered solution.
The blue strong arm of the system
kills in the streets with no retribution.
We find no solution
from asking or starting fires.
We're just cast away
as criminals or as liars.
I'm not Superman, I don't have the answer
though I really wish I did.
But we aren't Kandor
safe behing glass or lid.
And the wind will find the cylinder
and scatter it to ash.
And just like my whole ******* life
we'll still be seconds from collapse.