Tag Archives: anxiety

Expulsion, Repulsion

I bow before the

Ivory cistern

It is my deity

It shall accept my

Grotesque offering

Lights dimmed

And the ritual

Thus begins

Slowly, hands poised

Carefully, mouth

Gaping wide open

Trickling waterfall to

Hide all the

inhuman prayers

Passing through my

Throat, along with

Whatever else

One try, two tries, three

Rigid flesh heaving

Body shaking

Knees buckling

Trying to keep myself

Together enough

To tear myself apart

Undecipherable chunks

Fluids falling

A constant stream of

Involuntary tears

But—begat me

It’s too little, too little

For too much

Poor performance

Unsatisfactory

Pathetic—

Yet why, oh why does

Everything just

Fucking hurt all the

Very same?

Losing track of life

Almost half an hour has

Since passed

And my lungs could

Take no more

Begging for some repose

But it needs more

More more more more

So little so less

So full of shit

So full of me

It wasn’t enough but

Maybe it has

To suffice for now

Please, I hope

Slow down

Troubled breaths

Catching up

Though not quite the

First attempt

It never does get

Easy with every usual try

Metallic water drips

To wash away

The transgression

The evidence

The guilt

Leaving me with

A happy daze and

Messy shirts

And stomachaches

To last for days

But that’s okay

The ivory god is forgiving

And welcoming as

It is cold, and

I’ll always be fighting

Against temptation

And failing

And slipping

And cracking under

Pressure, and

When I’ll do

Rest assured I’ll

Be atoning

Pleading within this

Porcelain temple

Waiting for

Another unholy dying

Making amends

Saving my shrinking spine

And trying to be fine

Until the next time.

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echolocation

PicsArt_05-20-06.06.20

i found a blister

on the underside of

my tongue, just

trying to talk to you

today—it’s better

left alone but sometimes

my teeth click against

it and it emits a little

hissing echo, like a

cloud of incensed bats

flying out of their damp cave

to finally face the sun

and burn their flesh

dwellings and night vision

impaired for another

sleight of sudden death

i wonder if this blister

will ever heal, even after all

the times i rubbed it raw

and when it does, and

when daylight no longer stings—

what else will be left

in me to h u r t ?

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cheval verre

ec7d9369-d8f2-4916-b70f-38d7140f0d017157080499276682422.jpg

chew the shards of glass

between your overcast teeth

and promise me this time—

.

promise me you wouldn’t lie.

.

doesn’t feel too good with

blood overflowing in your

mouth, does it? did it turn

the ashes into putrid mud,

as well, and pour out from

every orifice in a thick, dull

sludge, confessing the crimes

.

tucked quietly behind those

calculating, glimmerless eyes…

.

does the crunching of glass

sound like the bones i broke

trying to convince myself that

your gaping lips are meant for

more than blatant fabrications—

.

does the crunching of glass

sound like sweet music to you,

.

the way it does to me right now?

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Sedate

I’m starving for medicine—

For a thousand clattering

Pills indulged all at once,

Dropping like snowflakes

On my withered tongue…

.

I’m starving for some sleep—

For a million hazy dreams

Coalesced softly all at once,

Showering like hail and sleet

Impaling my withered soul.

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lágrima

i cried

for the first

time in a

long time

today, and

.

the tears

are not for

me, they are

meant for

someone else

.

and the

sadness is

not mine,

only my lack

of control

.

towards them—

i wept, and it hurt,

but i could only

imagine how much

worse it was for you.

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sometimes i exist i think

I can feel a change
I lie awake every night, scratching
At the back of my eyelids
Nothing good ever happens
In the midnight hour…

~*~

distance stemmed

from coveting and

plainness, an upside

down mixolydian

reverie, never enoughs

for nobody was—crave to

choose isolation from

an option of tenfolds

because it eases the

passageways and

makes for a placid tale

of another ghost haunting

their own apartment

simply because they

wanted to leave the door

without a key just ever

so slightly unlocked

~*~

Don’t look at the moon
While the light is draining
It’s slowly killing you
Don’t look at the moon…

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Echopraxia

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I am not as truthful with my words

As I am with the mirror of another person

Irritating, a mimicked eloquence in my every verve

A quiet death in between the lines of reason

.

Yet I yearn to be autobiographical

To move the hills with my own sorrow

Bleed ocean waves with the sound of my voice

Crashing, cresting—swollen abyss

.

No one will touch it with a paperweight

My skin itches with healed sores, my mouth

Itches with the desire to be heard,

My mind is severed from my body; regret, culminating

.

They hear my suffering but not my thumping heart

I think it to be nonexistent—am I the truth?

No one notices me. No one comes near. No one

Prays for the crying shadow in the corner of the room.

.

So I atone with my own subtle mess. The ink stains

They praise me for my joy—my lack of it, my lack

Of self-respect, my lack of nerves within the soul—as soon as

This chapter closes, my lies become no more than another neglected tale.

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regenerate

Every time I think about your voice
I start to tremble, and my heart’s aching
And anytime you need a shoulder, I’m right there
You just gotta find a way, a way…

~*~

it’s been over

a year, and all

my insides have

turned bright blue

.

coldly choking

and churning at

the constant lie

to pull me through

.

it’s been over

a year, and yet

my insides don’t

feel brand new

.

still spitting

and screaming

“damn it, why did

it have to be you?”

~*~

You scream ‘don’t look’
You scream ‘don’t touch’
What have they done?
What have I not?

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Dissimilitude

Obscure thoughts
And manic visuals
The king of deception’s
Repulsive ritual…

~*~

I am unable to mend myself anymore

Instead closer to discomfort, adoring the

.

Minor slip-ups that further slip me away

Into a state of feeling infinite nothing

.

Because my ribs are starting to close in

And propane seeps into the bones of the aether

.

I find myself struggling to reach out beyond

False epiphanies and this cultist chase

.

Just to seek out disproportionate happiness

For what else is there left to trip on?

~*~

A throne of dissimulation
And disfigurement
King of deception, hell sent
A thirst for corruption…

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(please never) bloom again

i find myself thinking about it

the tiny pieces that build up

each sleight of anonymity that

outlined the subtle secrets

in your unrelenting stargaze

.

and a watered-down kind of

“i-promise-never-to-tell”

.

a hint; of chamomile attraction

.

but send my best to sunshine state

because i’ll never be there to

share a drink or name with you

i’ll smoke my fantasies out instead

.

so why not just give way, like the

empty ground beneath my feet

my self-esteem tastes of

stale breath mints and no one’s

sloppy seconds, but it looks

fine from a distance—it virtually

looks like nothing next to all

.

of the tiny pieces that you picked

out of your rancid heart and

unknowingly lodged right in between

my throat, just so i would mean it

.

when i promised never to tell.

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