Monthly Archives: January 2018

Gloom Boys in Natural Blue

I have candy floss over my eyes, and no one can ever take that away from me.

I’m a double dare away from jumping into the clouds and getting lost in heaven, and even though their motionless lips tell me otherwise, imploring that the despondent sun will burn my frail skin and my charred cape will drag me back down into the ground, I’ll simply fly over them and defy what it means to be human.

For being an angel is not made of mere matchsticks and febriculic feathers, rather, it is the catastrophic sensation of breathing in your existence from your lungs and never letting it go, holding your oxygen in so tight that your chest will hurt, and tasting the very molecule that the wind is built up of, all before exhaling heavily and letting others share the light that passed the very chambers of your symphonic heart, and inhaling that decadent love once more like it’s the only sugar high you need.

I’ll be dancing a hundred footsteps as I reverently play the halo’s mellifluous beat around my head over and over again, but I shall never get tired of laughing and listening, and the glow never fades, the glow never coalesces into a darker retrospect of aspirations and bad habits, the glow is etched at the very back of my confounded head and if I close my eyes and wish a little softer, I can see pastel whispers floating and resonating behind my dreams, smiling quietly as it tells me fairy stories about twill reveries and acrylic oneirism.

Will you tell me that much? Will you beg in blazing yellow and speak in purple hand grenades, waking up again when the water parks detonate and soothing water splashes everywhere? This is not my gloomy lullaby meant to be kept under hushed tones and clandestine affinities, buried under the bones of ‘92, rather it is an everlasting caprice that is meant to be jubilantly shouted from the rooftops, until the nightingales and mynas and bluejays and hummingbirds mimic the colours in my eyes and echoes back a chromatic rainbow to be chased.

Am I not making any sense, or is the semblance of my self-optimistic throes withdrawing like violent ocean waves? It is not their fault, and it certainly isn’t mine. It’s yours. It’s all yours. This nonsensical tirade making me backlash the usual defamation that is my wretched soul, making me passionate for what used to be desert sand and black light, now efflorescent flowerbeds and ultraviolet ecstasy, making me smile and laugh childishly at the most fickle of things like a madman staring limerently into the cornflower moon. You let a playful cyclone into my bedroom while I was sleeping, and it ravaged my closet and spun me all the way to your window until I was sickly dizzy, and you held your hand out to steady me and pulled me in, winking cheekily at the cyclone and returning its breezy grin before waving it goodbye.

Now that I’m here, will you promise to keep me? Airplane conversations and clustered entertainment isn’t enough to leave me amused. Are you laughing at my sadness yet? Are you performing odes along to me mournfully singing about the underhanded depression that makes me mad all the time and fucks my worried flurried mind up when the night is young and makes me go down the long road home? I’m a car crash that you can’t ever look away from, and I can’t ever look away from you. But don’t follow me to the site of the wreck. If your favourite set of stairs is the one up to my room, piece together the trail of love notes I left in the kitchen that say it all, and when you find me, I won’t ever have to let you go up. Let’s be lucky people, you and me.

Amid tantrums and crybabies, you’re nothing but rare. I may not be a warrior and you may think I’m the worst, but I know I don’t have to sleep alone again. So won’t you stay awake, stay awake for me? If you’re singing about la-la-la-love, my tune is more to the beat of a la-la-la-lobotomy. You’re my yellow lovely jealousy, in natural blue and viridian green memories, I’m losing my mood in a late night phone call, shading everything else from silver to pink to hiding under porches and craving territorial phantasms, it doesn’t matter. My common sense is powerless when you speak, and I’m not royal but I’m stupid for you, and 11:11 can go away because I don’t wish for anything else. I’m tired. You’re tired. Let’s be tired together. It’s more fun that way, don’t you think?

I have gloomy clouds over my eyes, and only you can ever take that away from me.

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W i t h o u t · A · S h a r p e r · K n i f e

Honesty sold-out at face value, the price you pay for distance

The depth of your wounds can’t be measured by the doctors in the ambulance

Complicate my rising lungs and grip my falling chestnut hair

Sleep in, I won’t keep bleeding out dreams if I know you’re always right there

This battle is yours to expiate, with every star there is to count

As multitudinous as the silver glistening in your face, an ebony ink tantamount

You’re regressing back to the rejected days of golden senescence

I wouldn’t let go of the only part of my life that makes any semblance of a sense.

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D i s g u i s e d · A s · M e

Set free all of the limitations, and suppress the discreet dalliance

Conceal the killer that resides in wait behind this dead end home

Photographs and signatures won’t atone for such plastic romance

And with every beat of your thundering pulse is a right in its own

Enamoured as you stepped on the glass they kindly laid out for you

Heaven may be a whole mess, but hell is still open for you to accrue

With the only retreat in a barren wasteland that paralyses each whim

So drop the honour and storm the weather, it’s right there in your skin.

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W h a t · I f · I · C a n ’ t · F o r g e t · Y o u ?

You won’t ruin the sunshine you left glowing on her fingers

They must think it’s dirty, but a work of art can’t be understood

With the pieces they left to light up what you thought you had

The necklace you still keep is just a memory, so careless and rude

If they begin to forget the audacious vivacity that you provide

Don’t wait for another phone call to ring in the middle of the night

The frustration in acrylic veins, alabaster failure they pursued

You gave second chances for the third time, but what if they don’t even want to?

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U n d r e s s e d · S p i n e

Rest, pour into the concrete outlines of my concrete bed

And write me another song about narcoleptic nightmares

We’ll wash away the wasted world with chlorine screams

With the rose you left embedded in your chest, and there

We’ll crash all our pendulum promises into the pavement

Lingering shards on your lips, and lodged deep in my pen

I won’t stay in California and burn the palm trees with you

But I’ll bite down on the truth and listen to your halo again.

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for the future hearts

Shake until we move the floor
What are we waiting for? Let’s go
I’m tired of being ordinary
Don’t care if there’s people staring
I’ll rely on your strength to carry me on…

~*~

possibilities

on my side

complexities

once defied

.

jumping off

the rooftop

i’ll fly before

i can ever stop

.

hiding no more

navigating this

communication

into better places

.

move again before

i give in, taking the

long way…i promise

to tomorrow’s today.

~*~

I’m not invisible like you
Next time things get a little messed up
I’ll shine, but I’ll never be see-through
I’m fine just trying to wake the rest up…

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Miss Mercenary

You had me hooked, careless and cunning
You had your throne, but now you’re nothing
You had me hooked, careless and cunning
You had your throne, but now you’re nothing…

~*~

A maiden for the silken sheets

A muse for the midnight masquerade

Amorous amorphous on feather pillows

A demure bonny on the pasquinade

.

A madwoman for the asphalt streets

A machine for the telephone’s hold

Astounding magic and death-defying acts

Aspiration generation, metal heart so cold

.

A mistress for all your petty problems

A megalomaniac for your world to rule

Alleviate and apprehend momentum quick again

Apathetic monarchy for the masses to adore and endure

.

A miss murder for the mean memorial of the brothels

A monster for the messy and mercurial meltdown motels

Arrogant tease decadent, astringent, leading you on well

All before she shows her blackened eyes and drags you down to hell.

~*~

Fading like the makeup from my sheets
And I’m leaving, send the orders for retreat
I laid to rest this war that we called “love”
It’s for the best and what’s done is done…

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La Bella Fantasia

“I swear that I can hear you in the wind…”

~*~

little phantasmic phantoms dance about

growing flowers at the garden of my mind

waiting to pluck out each bluebell and daisy

to fashion the wreaths into something kind

the playful zephyr is a fair weather friend

lulling each berceuse to sleep until the end

orbit sending me high into the atmosphere

but i won’t fall, no—i have nothing to fear

listening to the cherry blossoms that hide

in the boroughs where there’s a tinkerbell bride

and the mystical creatures would understand

with every speck of dust, a magic that enchants

.

but the delphi hearts and oracular tongues

speak of stories and brier thorns that selfishly clung

to innocent naivete still stubbornly preserved

though only to the pristine youth that it deserves

the wily eyes staring into the darkness osiris

as the nettles grow wild prevent cogent dreams

they scoured the atlas looking for eternal citadels

the nondescript pangs unaware of incarnate bevels

shrines that i pray to now submerged in irascible sins

incoherent adages leaving bruised indentations within

will the pixies be daunted? will the elves repatriate?

Quietly accepting the moiety of their unfortunate fates?

.

but beneath the black and white of underground paradise

is a fair place for scathing asters and aureole mirth alike

beyond the curlicues of charcoal smoke that paint the stars

a gossamer love decays, recording a dictaphone of past wars

in an imbroglio of lotuses, past the wafting scent of sandalwood

on the horizon, a transit of venus, a crescent smiling platitude

thoughts as crystal clear as seaglass, reflect candid illusions

show a bouquet from the spectres, a plethora of guiling ruminations

amid the taste of camphor and lead, i return to lacklustre reality

wondering and pondering when i’ll get lost again in my crafted fantasy.

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Reckless Imprudence

I’ll get carried away and bleed on the dirt

Slit the pressure in my ribs, and you taunt “does it hurt?”

Another taste of the botulism manifesting rabid

Who knew that gangrenous paradise was so damn sordid?

Ready to take a shot at the cheapened aphorisms

As the rules are circumvented to your selfish nihilism

Trapping your sulphurous words like roadkill on the street

So run me over once again, let it be my special treat

And if you can’t take my guts cascading red on the tarmac

Suck it up and step on me for a final dose of ipecac

As it leaves your callous throat and leaves bruises in your stomach

Carried away by the violence, and this mess you won’t fucking take back.

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upside

down

in every sense of the word

looking for a way

to distract my thoughts

against contrition

“i’m tired” i complain

as if i just wasn’t

already long used to it

left behind

by all the chatter

why am i still hoping?

“you fucked up

something again”

my mind screams at me

even though i know

i didn’t (did i?)

“i’m alone”

i mused dumbly

as if it wasn’t such

a daily norm

breaking blood

and draining bones

from its brewing storm

“the sun is murder”

melting away as the

heat and faceless crowd

further add to

this delirious stupor

“why am i still here?”

i want to go home

so i can seek death in peace

and be alone to feel

down

in every sense of the word.

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