writer’s block

i’m up against

a pen that

thinks too much

and an imagination

that refuses to

function.

Of Feminine Odds And Endings

I swear you complete me
Pink and blue on the skyline
Don’t the demons take this time
So raise me up, never say you’ve had enough
And you know it’s love when it’s bottled up…

~*~

Spent ten days counting dandelions in a field

Like time was miserable and needed camera thrills

Painting a scene that wasn’t quite as wayward

As a night filled with stars in some cheap postcard

Distance is effervescent when I close my eyes

Lips pulled into an idyllic smile, trying to play nice

.

Waking up when the collapse is felt in earthquake faults

Visions stifled with thorazine, my art is charcoal cold

I’ll dance like it’s the apocalypse, I’ll sing loud like I mean it

Spin a tornado with the air I have left in my lungs sweet

I’m just a mess trapped in sunflower swirls and pastel dreams

Tinderbox between my teeth, aldehyde ignites my screams

.

I don’t mind that it’s mindless, I don’t make any sense

The windows show my only escape from pyrexia bleakness

I’ll cast a spell and make the golden in the sunshine die

Plucked violets intricately lacing, like delinquent butterflies

Traipse by coastlines ’til the shore is nowhere to be found

Staring at the hypnotic horizon until I cannot feel the ground

.

Heavy, heavy, heavy dahlias; transient mysteries I’ll never solve

The morning’s further past over, and the mourning’s getting old

I’m a melancholy melody, I’m a symptom of severing snowdrops

A feverish heart cured by faux rhinestones from a psychic’s shop

Contrary crazy, I only miss the rain when the weather’s at it’s best

Drown in myself, I’ll keep looking for an exit out of this baby’s breath.

~*~

I had a dream that
I drove my car off a mountain
I fell back into your baby’s breath
Wish I didn’t miss you
Kiss me like it’s the apocalypse
I fell back into your baby’s breath…

Worthless Words from a Worthless Wreck

You’re too kind to me, you know that?

I don’t deserve absolution, or warm comfort, or reassuring words, or a steady shoulder to lean on when I cry. I deserve atonement, a punch in the face, a cold scream to strengthen up, I need tough love and tougher hate, because I’m far too spineless for my own good and I shouldn’t be stagnantly melting and caving in to that unwieldy trait anyway.

Do you like hearing about my problems? I don’t honestly believe that. Even I’m so sick of listening to the same old shit that I speak over and over again. Whining about problems so trite and unreasonable, even the purest of angels will certainly hate me for it. Oh, I’m sad again. Big fucking deal, so are a million other people out there, but do you see them complaining? No, so I should just suck it up and shut up about it already.

But I can’t, and I don’t. And you unknowingly get caught up in the middle of this ugly mess.

Just like any other rational person out there, you must think I’m rather obnoxious. Petty. Disgustingly needy. I know that’s not your nature, but still, I understand that, though. On the contrary, I understand it more than anyone else ever will. I know I push everyone’s patience to their breaking limits. I hurt and I hurt, and I’ve hurt other people, and I’ve hurt you, and I’m not worth my time or space, and neither should I be yours.

I’m sorry, but the truth is the truth, no matter how much it makes all the repressing lies in my fucked-up brain seethe indignantly. I’m always so pathetically selfish, but I sincerely never wanted this for you. You’re a decent soul with the best intentions and better people to spend your life on. I’m a bad person. I’m a bad friend. I’m always going bad. So why, just why are you being so good to me?

You’re too kind to me, you know that?

That’s being too cruel to yourself.

trapped in my headcase

i’m stuck

all alone

with my mind

to torture me

to prod needles

behind my eyelids

and call me a

worthless failure

a fucking loser

and every other

insult that i’ve

heard a million times

before already.

i want to jump off

the window of

this speeding bus

and run away

from my friends,

from my family,

from everything

and everyone

that i ever failed—

including myself…

but i just can’t.

so instead of that,

i’m stuck here

with my cruel mind

playing tricks on

my worthless self,

gritting my teeth and

telling me lies

as i’m just silently

screaming and

hating myself because

i believe it’s all

fucking true.

enamoured

it comes and goes

i never know

when it dares to strike

.

it doesn’t know

what can hurt me

but it knows

just what i like

.

so that hurt

intensifies—

and takes the

form of love

.

it breaks me down

and tears away all the

things i couldn’t have.

Space, Silence, Senseless

Sometimes quiet is violent, I find it hard to hide it
My pride is no longer inside, it’s on my sleeve
My skin will scream, reminding me of
Who I killed inside my dream
I hate this car that I’m driving, there’s no hiding for me
I’m forced to deal with what I feel
There is no distraction to mask what is real…

~*~

The reason I talk to myself is because nobody else wants to listen

And sometimes I think that I’m actually less dysfunctional than I believe

But the pendulum swings, and wounds are strung through again

I take more and more of what I wanted, until I’m less than I can give

.

My suffocated mind is deflated from breathing too much

When I’m sitting in a room and bad news becomes too painful to watch

Time and time again I flip through a hundred channels of static

Ignoring the noise in my upstairs and the racket in the attic

.

It’s all I can do to gape in silence as my life plays out before me

I must admit, while it’s engrossing, it makes for some bad TV

There are too many mistakes that are never dealt with in the end

And the climax is so boring, and the gory violence breaks and bends

.

So when all the distractions are played out and predicated

When all the music’s been heard and all the books have been read

When the computer fries its system and even the telly fizzles

And I’ve got nothing else to hide behind but my own personal hell

.

All the voices riot and demand, and they throw sharp rocks in my skull

They scream for mercy, or justice, or change, and remind me of my past wars

So I switch off the television headache, and I cower behind my bed instead

I wish I didn’t have to stay awake only to end up sleeping to kill my head.

~*~

I ponder of something great
My lungs will fill and then deflate
They fill with fire, exhale desire
I know it’s dire, my time today
I have these thoughts so often I ought
To replace that slot with what I once bought
‘Cause somebody stole my car radio
And now I just sit in silence.

emergency, emergency!!

“Feeling so alone now, funny how you wish
Some way that you’ll die at the hospital…”

~*~

hospital red

violet tears crying

the lights are too bright

they say that i’m dying

.

transfusion red

violet bruises sighing

darkness overtakes me

i don’t want to keep on waking.

Euphoria

A withheld stare, innocent amusement building up in the corners of his lungs.

“What’s he doing?”

That grin, so boyishly charming, a flustered cherub could strike an arrow straight between his teeth.

His fingers slightly shivered. A deceptive thought bubbled in his afflicted chest.

He didn’t pop it. He wouldn’t dare.

Cobalt eyes quietly blinking with mirth. Delicate figures dancing solipsistic circles over gloomy minds. A feeling so delightful, yet unsustainable and fleeting.

He was alone. And yet he laughed like he wasn’t.

“Being an idiot, that’s what.”

He was.

And for that feeling of happiness, he would do it all over again.

a persistence of forgotten memory

i am clothed

in nightmares

subliminal—

sympathy;

cruel, mocking

resilience inching

in the undertows

of a fervent

disguise

their smiles fall

into chipped sneers

as violet eyes

flash with

covetous envy

but the crimson lips

on my thighs do

nothing but gape

without teeth.

bleeding petals

slip away to

reveal the ugly

creature underneath,

melancholy human

weeping for their

own insolence

grieving what they

do not have, and

asking for ire faith

in blind places,

and yet again

i find myself dear

in the company

of the strangers

in my head,

and the demons

in my bed, clawing

with terror, writhing

with pleasure, altogether

tearing me apart.

i am clothed in

my own

nightmares–

and yet my soul:

fully bared and

torn open

apart for everyone,

exposed and

insulted and reviled…

it still feels rather

n a k e d .

How Heartless

I don’t know how to love

Without looking superficial

I feel in the wrong places

And no one’s ever too special

I don’t know how to love

In the way that they call “real”

I set my soul in right times

And no one would ever be mine.