Tag Archives: beast

Janus and the Beast

There’s nothing like a trail of blood
To find your way back home
And nothing feels as cold inside as heaven down below
I’ve been lost and never found, afraid
To speak my truth out loud
With empty hands I came into this world
And I’ll leave just the same…

~*~

Blood smeared on the walls

Like the smiles on your two faces

Taunting a mechanical reaction

Of storms and clever rhetorics

That died of natural causes

.

But the truth is far from you

This miserable incineration

Of my outer demons breaking

Leaving the scar issues making

News all over my gossipy skin

.

And my migraine’s headlining

Medications inventing versions

Of the story no one wants to tell

Stigmata leaving sensible stigmas

Bitter bidding angels wish you hell

.

Blood smeared all over the walls

Like the frowns on your two faces

Making a cruel definition agreed

Of cyclones and asinine comebacks

That revived the primal nature in me.

~*~

Death, you cannot take me, you’ve tried and failed before
With everything so deafening, each breath worth fighting for
I refuse to be your casualty ’cause pain has its reward
No longer trapped in agony, you cannot take me, I survive the storm…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Primal Fear

I can’t escape myself
So many times I’ve lied
But there’s still rage inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can’t control myself…

~*~

I can’t last, can’t escape

My bloodshot eyes can’t tell

I can’t love, but can hate

Cage the animal in eternal hell

.

I tried to let go of the knife

In the past, when it was dark

But the nightmare in my life

Can’t be tamed with a mark

.

I can’t last, can’t escape

My bloody hands hang limp

I can sleep but can’t wake

Burn the beast when it sinks

.

I have tried to shake off

All the voices in my brain

But the screams and scoffs

Causes an eternal migraine

.

I can’t last, can’t escape

All the blood has exited my body

I can’t fake, I can’t take

Bury the creature in the cemetery.

~*~

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?
No one would ever change this animal I have become
And we believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become
And we believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Just Look At The Mess You Made

Another knife in my hands
A stain that never comes off the sheets
Clean me off, I’m so dirty babe
The kind of dirty where the water
Never cleans off the clothes…

~*~

flies on your shoulder

blood in your sundress

darling girl of the hour

did you make this mess?

spelling decayed wrists

a blade for the clergies

vomit on blonde tresses

did you make this mess?

makeups smear breakup

a suicide note in lipstick

clean is now so careless

did you make this mess?

bathroom tiles shattered

pills and mirror scatters

a beauty fed to the beast

did you make this mess?

broken bones and skins

as agonist lungs scream

darkness she confessed

did you make this mess?

monsters devour a mind

it’s nothing you can find

a darling girl, mum’s best

why are you such a mess?

~*~

Only go so far ’til you bury them
So deep and down we go
Touched by angels, though I fall out of grace
I did it all so maybe I’d live this every day…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

the punctured spare tyre

a crippling sensation

masticating the walls of

my sovereign heart

a pendulum beat, a second

of apologies, that a lie

could never restart

intrepid decisions reveal

mistakes skewed by

colluding increments

the truth is verbatim and

reality’s imagination

is merely dark figments

impervious to quaintness

and jubilance and

optimistic butterfly whispers

interrogations turned to

awkward interludes

with a scowling stranger

my company is not the best

as my skyward eyes

are crashing to the ground

and every sacrifice is

as palpable as a siren’s

intensifying alluring sound

for the beast is a choleric

tantrum kicking up storms

in this dizzying bruised mind

behind all this laughter

and arrogant jerk banter

there’s only doldrums you’ll find.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

What’s Her Name

She’s a rebel, she’s a saint
She’s the salt of the earth
And she’s dangerous
She’s a rebel, vigilante
Missing link on the brink
Of destruction…

~*~

She won’t leave until the lights turn red

Troublesome girl, rebelling past the bed

A softspoken tongue, serpentine temper

Stories of surprising anarchy and terror

A saint with horns, little girl with a knife

A lace veiled bride, a bruise beating wife

Rules don’t concern her, A-game’s about

Bosses and bitches, she can take ’em out

Perspectives changing as it tore the walls

I guess I never really knew that girl at all

Past her charming smile and demure eyes

The beast to be feared when unleashed lies.

~*~

She’s a rebel, she’s a rebel, she’s a rebel
And she’s dangerous!

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

sounds of pain in the haemorrhage of a beast

the thoughts that confine

and slow down the

softer sounds of pain

as the beast in my mind

slips and slurs again

tonight; it shall sleep

but the sky is still

spinning under zero gravity

and the madness still

tastes like alcohol forbidden

on my hanging tongue

with every stupor prayer

that releases and unleashes

itself under my nerves,

the weakness manifests in

forms of darkness and

silhouettes and bulletproof

hearts lying under a pressure

and severed lust again

no more shall serpents hiss

about the aspiration and

initiation, all subdued into a

paralysing self-sedation

in the vigil of a ghostly moon

reflected under a lake

like a hallucinated mirror

glimmering in blades

swinging its pendulum knife

downwards, inch by inch

until the thoughts that

confine and slow down the

softer, senseless sound of pain

reaches the beast in my mind

and it bleeds out again.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Sleep: The Awful Things That I’ve Seen

And through it all
How could you cry for me?
‘Cause I don’t feel bad about it
So shut your eyes
Kiss me goodbye
And sleep, just sleep…

~*~

4:30 AM. I was just drifting off to sleep, beginning to conjure coalescing dreams, hazy and not yet solidified. As my slumber deepened further, sliding into proper unconsciousness, the fantasy materialised more clearly.

I found myself standing in the middle of a school building, an ancient and decrepit one, along with several faceless people, all of which seemed vaguely familiar, yet none that I could decipher specifically. Up to that point, everything was fine. It was just another one of the dreams that I have on a regular nightly basis, fractured and almost nonsensical. I wasn’t worrying yet. Continuing the journey of my dream, I rode on an elevator with the aforementioned faceless company, the elevator’s metal doors and interior glimmering with cleanness, strangely sterile and out of place, a stark contrast as compared to the near-dessicated state of the ruined building. I pressed a button to go several floors up, and the elevator hummed lightly, the glinting silver doors closing with a reassuring ding.

And that was where the nightmare began.

After a few seconds of waiting in uncomfortable silence, the elevator finally stopped with another cheerful ding!, the lights flickering momentarily as the doors opened smoothly, and we all stepped out of it without so much as a glance or hesitation. We found ourselves in a room, a total mess and cluttered, practically flooded, with varying sorts of garbage, debris, detritus, and disused technology, and just as equally rundown as the one we had previously been to. Thus we began investigating, scouring the place for god knows what endgame.

As I clambered atop a pile of junked wicker furniture—already unravelling from its weave and was all but falling apart—to scout the location, someone suddenly realised that one person was missing from the group, and s/he called us out and gave attention to the fact. By some form of interlocked gregarious instinct, we all looked curiously towards the elevator, eyes drawn to the buzzing reflective doors, and, as if on cue, that prominent ding! sound cut through the thick slippery silence like a bread knife through butter. Breaths bated, we all waited in suffocating suspense.

It didn’t open. No movement from the inside. No indications of our absent companion can be seen. My faceless companions and I didn’t acknowledge each other, either. We were all simply frozen to the spot, and no one moved a muscle, not even as a soft music box tune began eerily playing from behind the closed doors, muffled as it seeped past the minute cracks between the doors. As it continued to play, sweet and lilting at first, I began to grow uncomfortably disturbed, for it seemed to be seeping past not only the elevator doors, but past the boundaries of dream and reality as well. It felt so real, so palpable, so tangible, that for one moment, my dream self actually broke past the fourth wall, becoming fully aware of its incorporeal state, and I pondered if I accidentally left my phone’s music player on before I fell asleep.

But then, out of nowhere, a high-pitched screeching sound went off and collided with the initial silence that was keeping the dream at bay, as the music box melody grew louder, more distorted, chillingly hair-raising. The stentorian tone came to a point where it became too unbearable for my thoughts, and I immediately jolted back to reality, hoping to effectively get rid of the discordant noise.

Or, at least it seemed to be reality, at first. I can still see what I would’ve seen if I was awake; the red and grey stroller that my older sister left on the place, immobile and parked carelessly in front of me, my phone clutched on one limp hand, its screen faintly glowing and still opened on an abandoned Aldiko eBook that I was listlessly rereading before I fell asleep, and the sheer darkness of the quiet room only being perturbed by the light on the dining room, always left open at such hours of the day. I was awake, and everything was all normal…

Except the damned music box sound was still playing in my ears, and I can’t move.

From that moment forth, I knew I wasn’t awake yet, nor was I dreaming still. I was trapped in limbo, floating between a hellish combination of unconsciousness and consciousness that I can’t break out of. I can’t go back to sleep, but I can’t wake up anymore. It was time for drastic action. Blood rushing wildly in my heart and heart hammering out of my ribcage so hard it might just break, I frantically tried moving an arm, a leg, any limb, any muscle, to no avail. I attempted to straighten out and change my semi-foetal position, but all I could feel cooperating was my left toe, wiggling frantically, willing the rest of my body into a contagious movement, and without much success. Not even my eyeballs can be goaded into looking side to side, fixated blankly past ahead, horrified gaze locked upon the stroller, forced to watch the unfolding events transpire, as my vision shifted and spun out of control.

I felt sickeningly dizzy. Gravity must be working against me. There seemed to be an invisible force that was moulded into my entire body, blanketing me entirely as it pressed against both internal and external flesh and held me down, and the only sound I can hear anymore was no longer the pleasant music box tune, but rather, some sort of strange caterwauling amalgamation of static and a rushing wind vortex and painful banshee wails that roared angrily whenever I attempted to move, its volume nearly deafening, nearly driving me into intense deliria. This unknown spectre was overpowering, sending fresh waves of prickles on my skin, shudders and chills down my spine, and contorting currents all over my body with every futile attempt of mine to make motions, telling me victoriously that I was held under its claws, pinned like a helpless mouse under a cat’s paw. I was its puppet, and it can make me motionless whenever it wishes to. I was under its total control.

For what seemed like hours to un/conscious me, this unwinnable game went on mercilessly. The invisible force grasped strong and willfully as it immobilised me, the raging static continued to come in cacophonic mocking screams, the dreadful fear ultimately pervaded and successfully overrode every part of my system. I couldn’t break away, I couldn’t find a release, I was defeated and thinking that I’d be trapped forever in this fucking state, and come next morning, my relatives will find me already turned to cold stone like Medusa’s poor victim, with a permanent expression of horror etched on my visage, a person literally frightened to death.

But then the spell broke down. I felt everything lighten up gradually, that shocking magnanimous force that has paralysed me and held me hostage for the last few minutes slowly dissipating, the angry static noise ebbing away into nothingness, and I finally began seeing everything in a less surrealistic, less blurrier, less disorienting sight. I opened my eyes—or if they have been opened all the time anyways, I am still highly uncertain—saw the lightless room, my resiliently-illuminated phone, the abandoned monochrome stroller, my hands clutching the mobile, normalcy, reality, and hopefully for good this time. I glanced down absently at my trembling bent legs and realised with ecstatic joy that I could already move, and I rocketed myself immediately into a stiffened position, almost letting out a vivacious cheer of triumph. Everything rewound back to its proper setting, and my wildly panicking heart began to calm itself, gradually lessening a beat every second until my pulse was at an acceptable pace once again.

For several minutes after that, I was motionless. I simply laid still, staring mistily at the dull yet reassuring glow of my phone, listening to the tired whirring of the restless electric fan. For the hellish dream may have passed, but I wasn’t completely relaxed that easily yet. Fear infested itself momentarily again, and I immediately jammed my eyes shut, very much afraid that if I moved or swept my vision over the place, I would see a horrifying countenance grinning with razor blades for teeth and glaring back at me with flaring jaundice-yellow eyes. I was still scared out of my wits, thinking that, perhaps, the nightmare was not over yet.

Sooner than later, the fickle irrationalities subsided into common sense. I knew I can’t keep up such an act forever, and if there were any bastards waiting to devour me whole, then goddammit I’ll face them now. I hesitantly opened one eye, and, seeing no otherworldly creature about to pounce on my viscera, only my luminescent phone’s clock blinking sullenly and reading 5:08 AM, I opened the other eye and sighed exorbitantly, the sound of my own voice washing over me and providing me clarity and sensibility. I felt ashamed and silly, yet at the same time thankful and relieved.

But not for too long, before horrifying thoughts struck me once again, epiphanies falling down on my mind so hard I saw stars. Deprived of sleep and going through such a traumatic experience in such a short amount of time, one can only think so clearly before hell sets its hounds loose upon their brains again. I gasped audibly. My blood froze abruptly. My pulse raced maddeningly again. A hard lump metastasised on the back of my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe. A final chill slithered down my spine, and rested there permanently.

I cannot sleep again. Whatever beast or demon or godforsaken creature used me and made me its plaything for tonight, I fear it will return again to finish its job. I cannot let that happen. Never again. Perhaps if I just make it past this night, then it will leave me alone. But I am tired. I am very tired. No, I’m okay. I’m fine. I’ll make it. I’m going to die. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

1 Comment

Filed under Prose

Sleep: Letting Go Of Your Dreams

“There are these terrors, and it’s like, it feels like as if somebody is gripping my…are these terrors, and it’s like, it feels like as if somebody is gripping my throat…not like tremors, worse than tremors, there are these terrors…at night, there are…not like tremors, these are worse than tremors, there are these terrors, and it’s like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing…and like as if somebody was grip—”

~*~

Falling asleep…

A faint dream

In an elevator scene

An exploration

A decrepit room

And finally,

A music box song

That seeped

Onto reality…

Turning into

Static and wails;

Hell’s personal melody

Roaring madly

Past my ears

And the nightmare began.

Jolted into limbo

The familiar room

Materialising in front

Of my tired eyes,

But what the hell…?

I cannot sleep,

I cannot wake up,

And I can’t move...

I can’t move.

God help me,

I fucking cannot move—!

An invisible force

Pressing down on me,

Sent crawling chills

Down my skin

With every attempt

Of futile movement,

Dinning noise

Painfully screeching

Against my ears,

A beast has

Taken control of me

And I don’t know

What to do anymore.

Heartbeat panicking

And mind in a frenzy,

I tried to be calm,

To be stupidly rational

With instructions

That came out

Of a 911 operator’s

Mollifying mouth…

Okay, think this out!

You can do this.

Wiggle your toes.

A hallux, a minimus,

Just try it, okay?

There, good!

It’s working now…

Just try to move,

An arm, a leg,

A muscle, anything

At all, and then

Wait for it to spread

Across your body…

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

It doesn’t work.

I’m stuck.

I cannot break away

From the demon

That pins me

Within its claws

Rendering me

Immobile,

And screams

Triumphantly loud

In banshee roars

Deafening me

Of common sense.

I’m. Fucking. Trapped.

So what now?

Helpless as I’m

Paralysed, frozen

In a foetal position

Half conscious,

Half unconscious

Lying in my bed,

Unable to move

Or shout for help,

I give up

I’m reduced to

Waiting for it

To simply end;

Waiting for the

Monster to be sick

Of such games,

Waiting for reality

To take me back

And wake me up,

Waiting anxiously

For that final

Sweet release…

But will it even come?

~*~

“…Sometimes I see flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying and…it’s always…and I can’t…I can’t ever wake up.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

A Mutually Self-Destructive Alliance

We could be perfect one last night
And die like starcrossed lovers when we fight
And we could settle this affair
If you would shed your yellow
Take my hand and then we’ll solve
The mystery of laceration gravity
This riddle of revenge
Please understand that it has to be this way…

~*~

He’s a tough beast losing a war with his vainglorious demons

When he’s fucking around in the unused abandoned dormitory

His rage thirsts for agony, and his smile is a paranoid paradox

No number of free kisses will fully bury his graveyard misery

.

She’s a delicate Amazonian winning a battle for the demons

When she’s fucking around in the flat with infinite vacancies

Picking bones from her teeth, spitting gristle in snarled smile

No amount of free pleading will make her surrender so easily

.

They’re two faithed allies trading ten thousand filthy lies to save their skins

When they’re both fucking around in the empty carpark of a crumbling hotel

Smiles bared and taut, as information flows freely, trading vendetta and sins

If the belligerence goes down, they know at least they’ll both go straight to hell.

~*~

Stand! Up fucking tall
Don’t let them see your back and
Take! My fucking hand
And never be afraid again…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Fear in the Heart of the Beast

It’s senseless, isn’t it?

Chasing stars like this. A malevolent race of blood and starlight, dust and galaxy, radiance amid vespertine. The vulnerabilities I partake with reproachful glances and consternated sighs, as another concatenation languishes itself woefully from my tremulous velvet palms. All the unnecessary perplexities. Chatoyant winks. Recrudescent idiosyncrasies. Pyrrhic viciousness. It’s almost maddening, like pulling at a switch to turn on the dark. The desuetude of prayer, the imbrication of penitence against sin, the self-sustaining cycles of ultracrepidarianism against the gallimaufry voices, ridden with febricula and rallying beyond this pannychis, begging to be heard. Yet my solitary garrison quavers none, and left to my own devices, I arm myself against those shots in the midnight, forays into forests of violent crimes, heart hammering against my Adam’s apple so harshly that I am confident I may simply poke my tongue out and watch its scarlet palate throb. The fear, the intensity, the asperity of it all, finally taking its toll on me before I waned away my lurid admonition; my enemy was not those who wish me dead at their skins, it is I and this foolish quavering soul. The paroxysms of resentment and infinitesimal blinks and twitches of arrogant pain jolting through my spinal fluid, kneecaps shattering and popliteal sweating as I kneel forcibly, succumbing indignation and surrendering both hands to the efficacious reign of the nightmare, derisive silhouette shifting only ever smugly in its carved skeletal throne, positioned rightly upon a bejewelled vestibule. The requiem wails its bereft knell. One by one, the myriad astrology coruscates into wretched dimness. The universe has gone out. Only nonexistence, spilling with emptiness and triumphant in its ironic vitality, remains to be seen. The nightmare sneers. Too late.

And, at the very destruction and devastation of both my tantamount solidarity as well as the fabric of reality, at the amusing otiosity of it all, at the grandest scheme of this laughable redundancy, I can only wonder with a morbid rickety grin, unto what end shall it all lie?

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose