Tag Archives: bitter

a cup of warm tea; and the aftertaste of trauma

Sometimes I feel cold, even paralyzed
My interior world needs to sanitize
I’ve got to step through or I’ll dissipate…

~*~

the bitter of tea, the tang of lemon—and that subtle hint of summertime sweetness, melting into my tongue in one drowsy haze.

paint-stained hands clutch at the warm mug for dear life, and i take tentative sips and let the aromatic seasons dance around my mouth a bit, as if this very dark liquid itself was my final tether to this plane of existence.

perhaps, in some ways, it quite is.

the effect of sleepiness arrives to swoop me back in sluggishly, allowing me to momentarily lean back and stare blankly at the faces on the wall, all eager teeth and pastel craft paper, curling and fading all the way to wandering oblivion; but only a single smile really captured my absent mind’s attention. i wryly picture how it would look against later impressions of dirty blonde and crystalline azure, peeking rather shyly behind deep laugh lines and a few animated freckles peppered across pale skin, endearingly elusive.

sinking in; and sinking still. the effervescent mania that violently grabs me by the shoulders and dares to push its reckless fingers right in the middle of my tender ribcage, refusing to cease digging around until it finally hits something vital. lung, artery—the unfortunate heart itself, perhaps?

but—as i am melancholically assuaged—i am sure it will find only a hollow cavity where a beating organ used to rest. disappointed? not really. i’m painfully aware that already long ago have i been deemed one of the young naivetes who willingly sold it away, to someone who didn’t even know they were searching for damaged antiques. i practically gave it away for nothing.

and yet, where is it now?

is it gathering cracks and dents in someone’s mantlepiece, within a dusty old bungalow? is it buried lost under a child’s messy closet, along with broken toys and past innocence and all their other outgrown things? perhaps, has it already been traded away by its secondhand owner without a brief hesitant thought or a pause of chagrin, in exchange of a better, prettier, newer one?

ah, no matter…no matter. i no longer feel it anymore, anyhow.

cosmic snapshots. a feline grey and glimmering yellow eyes. lilting snatches of an unwritten song dedicated to the moon. murky rain dripping rhythmically from the plastered holes on the ceiling. a perfect pink photograph more potent than any flavour of tea or dosage of coffee, keeping me up well into the witching hours and then some. just another wordless poet. just another tired pen.

your bitter blue. my summertime sadness. the promise of morning, and nothing else.

~*~

And you know
You’re a terrible sight
But you’ll be just fine…

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Nothing But Fairytales

Hear the strains of my moribund curiosity

Ringing distantly, an unanswered call I’m hanging

Around, not by the end of a swinging rope

But by the end of a clever line my mouth seems to spin

Into a smirk, hiding another bad fabrication

I’m sleeping with the giants and stealing their gold

Blind eyes wide open, ahead of the broken

Well I’m not a good person, or so I’ve always been told

But I didn’t murder saints just to be hailed

As the martyr of the century, though I have no sins

Only minor mistakes, augment that major fourth

For me, won’t you? I know that I’m falling

For a trick called existence, just the cause and effect

Oxygen hallucination, black out the nihilism unaware

And hold my breath for me, I’m not bitter out of spite

I’m just being realistic: if no one gives a damn, then was I even there?

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18 – bad company

let me count all the ways

that old secondhand phrase

got no friends and the envy

and a friday night analogy

.

so i’ll just freeze to death outside

and wish hard until it hurts

i got to mess with my own health

and i’ve lied for all my worth

.

but the evening’s still crashing

and my words and coffee, pure bitter

so i’ll elude my mind by stalling

and wake up without having slept at all.

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Gemstones and Constellations

You tried to kiss me through the window
I tried to settle for the taste of touching glass

Over the sound of answering machines
Because I love the way your voice
It says it’s gonna get back to me someday…

~*~

Remember the morning that wept cold stars like winter rain

Diamonds unraveling as they danced against the faded windows

As the pale pink light beneath the horizon left taciturn stains

On the browns and greys of onlooker eyes, barely open with sorrow

Painting a polychrome noir by the griefstricken brush of a god

Seeking those wandering souls that have strayed too far to go back

Piercing glass concealed fallen ashes that traced the broken blood

Like bitter scepticism left locked under closet doors so it won’t distract

Remember the morning that drained nights of their dissonant reverie

As for saving the stars that fell that evening…only a fated few were so lucky.

~*~

And this is gonna be the best day of my life
A celebration of an ending, come on…

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Don’t Turn The Tables Sweetheart, You’re Gonna Dizzy Yourself Sick

Well, she’s not bleeding on the ballroom floor
Just for the attention, ‘cause that’s just ridiculously odd
Well, she sure is going to get it, here’s the setting
Fashion magazines line the walls now, the walls line the bullet holes
Have some composure and where is your posture? Oh, no, no!
You’re pulling the trigger, pulling the trigger all wrong…

~*~

You act like you’ve got a pretty laugh stuck in your ragged throat

Proud of the way you dirty your skin, proud of the way you gloat

About the veins, they’re just veins, they’re just another empty sea

I don’t want to swim, I don’t want to sink, I don’t want to censor me

.

Can you see the way I twist my hair into a noose that I’ll never hang?

Well the knots have hurt my fingers and for a moment my hands stung

All this beauty left to be romantic about, but sometimes nature is a bore

The bayside’s wayside in screaming trees, sometimes nature is a whore

.

When we did it, it was funny, it was temporary, it was just a tragedy

Coming from the cheap seats and you clapped for the longest irony

Now it’s your turn, it’s not funny, it’s forever, it’s a bruised symphony

We paid the balcony scene just to watch a charcoal sob for a penny

.

And your lips spill with attention and gush that you don’t want any

Paint the crooked crucifix on your pallid cheeks with bitter and honey

Now all the hypocrites adore you, blood-type A of sycophantic rude

Play a victim with a rifle to their shoulders, act as if it’s how you should

.

Now the trigger smiles so happy, does that bullet taste like sweet candy?

Do the fucking polaroids show off the best sides of your broken inhumanity?

Make us sorry that this reality didn’t fit your peach-twill dress and sanity

Was it your idea to put the slit in your throat so you can pretend that it’s originality?

~*~

Give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention!
Give me envy, give me malice, baby, give me a break!
When I say shotgun, you say wedding: shotgun, wedding, shotgun, wedding!
She didn’t choose this role, but she’ll play it and make it sincere
So you cry, you cry (give me a break) but they believe it from the tears
And the teeth right down to the blood at her feet…

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One Of Them (Cass & Effect)

I see it in her eyes, that girl is lost
But Cassie if you stay with me, I’ll never stop
Cassie’s been waiting too long
The drug in her veins is too strong
She fell in love with the medicine she’s on
Yeah in a matter of minutes her mind’s gone…

~*~

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You don’t dance in your dress and do ballet twirls

You dye your hair green and wear orange shoes

You’ve got nothing to live for and everything to lose

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You don’t wish for princes or a dumb fairy tale world

You cut off dragon heads with your silver blade

And the blood is drank in a midnight pub promenade

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

They spill acid on their tongue until their vision curls

You only swallow tablets to avoid feeling dizzy

When your heart feels wrong and your brain feels frisky

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

They’ve got their life together, kiss and tell like bores

Picking out the sweetest bees and tasting the sweetest honey

Oh, aren’t you sick of that bitter mouthwash, honestly?

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You don’t need saving from another magical curse

They call you cynical, but being realistic’s not a crime

And those bedless boys don’t leave you tongue-tied

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You got a pistol for a lipstick and a deadshot hearse

You’re never available, you’re never there for the asking

You scare them all off ‘cause you’re “too interesting”

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

Your fingers are broken, but the last time makes the first

How normal, how nice, just a suburban heist in pink stunning

You’ll be the cat burglar melting down faux promise rings

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

While they sob about their stories, you scream at yours

Pluck at the metal strings ‘till your calloused fingers tear

You’ve got a pain in your voice that no one wants to hear

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You don’t get yourself right, wear those scars for the worse

Your mouth’s twisted in a sneer, you’re a bitch in cold dressing

You fight without the bruises and being alone is kind of your thing

.

Cassie you’re not like, and you’ll never be like the other girls

Your mama raised you like that, but hell ‘cause it didn’t do you any good

You’re not stupid and lovely and crazy and flowery like those other girls

But Cassie, don’t you ever wish sometimes that you don’t feel so jealous?

~*~

She left a dent in my heart as she drove
With her car into my life, though
She tilt her head to the side, what a night, yeah
And Cassie, don’t you overdose.

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Oh, Ain’t That Clever? (The Hundred Dollar Profanity)

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who’s the ugliest of them all?
Severed, crawling like spiders
Injecting poison, now kill the bile spewing
The walking selfish living dead
I turn to rust and you play
In all the filth that you’ve created…

~*~

Sweet milk will still taste spoiled

If the mouth is too putrid and rotten

And barbaric words just don’t define

Someone’s being a “good” person

.

Underhanded plagues dyed the rain

With condescension and redder stains

With a wish that the cleave cuts deep

And that leather flesh will never heal

.

As judging eyes feel the need to gloat

Like skies on fire, the ashy vanity floats

Prison’s good but the abuse feels numb

All hands on them until they succumb

.

It’s fine to feel fine, the need to feel needy

And pride has never been so carelessly greedy

But freedom will still taste like putrid decay

When the body’s too bitter to feel the right way.

~*~

And when your dreams have come to end
How will you buy your happiness?
And when your self is all you have left
With what will you fill your emptiness?
You are the cause of man’s dissolving evolution
Is my heart completely useless?

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Back To The Red Tapes

You are a handful of roses
Thorns and a cheap bouquet
True, I’m a walking disaster
They told you to stay away
Seems like I’m making
A deal with the devil…

~*~

I remember when we loathed each other

And what we wouldn’t do to one up and over

Subtle poison in each vindictive word and verse

Poised to hit the most vital organs and curse

.

We smeared the walls with our cold fresh blood

Leaving basilisk messages for another pitying god

And undertones of candy-coated punches in stitch

In plates of ‘hope you die, you conniving little bitch’

.

But sometimes the relapse was felt in compassion

A confusion of collisions, casting the condensation

I didn’t know if it was coincidence, or I was insane

But the universe parked parallel, changed the game

.

Passing the halls with the same songs in our mouths

Composing about the same things that gave us doubt

Secretly racing the other one for covert little challenges

And trying to push at each other’s buttons and nuisances

.

It was a mess, and the bleak battleground ain’t so pretty

But the smoke cleared up and the aftermath forgot me

Where the sun was aglow and my coffee tasted less bitter

And tears only came in the form of erupted endeavours

.

Now I read the past stories and I want to laugh out loud

Enough to disturb the anxiety that’s keeping my head out

The snide smirks, the loose lies, the entertaining electricity

Who knows what’s meant for you and what’s meant for me

.

After the sheer mayhem that came after each round of drinks

After every conversation held and confessions begging not to think

After all the chaos caused and the devastation left in its wake

It’s a lot easier to admit I’ll miss it—I’d listen again for a rewinded take.

~*~

‘Cause I feel like a bad joke
Walk the tight rope to hold onto you
Was it real? Or a love scene
From a bad dream? I don’t think
I can forget about it…

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Rhyme and Reason

I’m a stray for blue boys and a songheart for little bo-peeps.

I wish I didn’t exist in dusty novels and forgotten storybooks the way that your obscene breath does, the way that your dreamscape wings fall off into ashes, the way that you simply do. Always in the ways that I couldn’t.

I despise myself for being a complete upside-down fool, madly limerent for this fiasco of a game that I’ve lost the moment before it even started, violently surrendered and beaten blonde and black to the point where I start doubting myself in bitter gunshots and giving my sweet bullets all up just so I could be your unsigned scarlet letter.

Do you understand me? Because I don’t.

I wish I would have written a hundred synesthetic postcards left unsent, but all I have are these hundred meretricious words to tell you what you don’t know. What you won’t know. And what you never will.

Stay lost, blue boy. Or you’ll end up like me.

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i know something you don’t know

Hold on, don’t look back
You know we’re better, we’re better than that
Lost and thrown away
You know we’re better, we’re better than that
We are the strays…

~*~

lips twisted in

orange sour and

bitter secrets,

indulging unseemly

stories under the

brink of clearwater stars

sweet as frosting and

dripping in sap as

caramel words,

these strange stories

no one would

dare to listen to.

the moon might not

come out tonight,

but tongues open fire

and in that

naked horizon

of calming darkness—

everything else

comes to light.

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