Tag Archives: blood

Butcher With The Bad Blood

He will remain a walking corpse
His legs will move forward
Addictions itch at his throat
But only to crave more of the blood
He seeks, the man only thirsts…

~*~

Rapid-fire anger management and profanities screaming

You hold your own shredded throat by the unlocked trigger

And clutch tight, like the desperate straws you’re grasping

Beating dead, fucked over by your own sovereign banter

.

Relinquish the power, decorated in track marks and golden medals

But it could only last so long before synthetic monuments crumble

And you find your own damned children splattered all over the walls

Covered in a rain of glass and guilt, begging for some salvation to call

.

Viciously, all the bloated carnage starts reeling away from your reality

Disrupted by the way your faked defensive cries are still failing humanity

No empathy could ever understand the infection burning out your brain

You started with blind rage and opened up hell, but only mangled eyes remain.

~*~

Buried, his tomb will breathe
His hands will rise
From his shallow grave
Begging only for sleep
Dear father, I’ll be waiting
Saved you a seat in hell…

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Ruthlessness

“The thing I think I love
Will surely bring me pain
Intoxication, paranoia
And a lot of fame…”

~*~

Mix me with plagues

Viciously tear me apart

Blue stains on your fingertips

As I declare uncivil war

.

Sleeping with deadbolts

And you bare your attacks

Break down the barriers

This death’s out to play god

.

Horror and sweetness

I can’t tell the difference

Decision’s full of derision

Bloat in fetid limerence

.

Devour my humanity

It’s what I fucking deserve

Scoop up my insides

Secrets all ready to serve

.

Seething with poison

Belladonna, touch me not

Betray me with a blink

There’s nothing left but blood

.

Bad infection and emotion

It hurts us all just the same

Eloquence holds decadence

Are you ready for some pain?

~*~

“Three cheers for throwing up
Pubescent drama queen
You make me sick, I make it
Worse by drinking late…”

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Insides

Keep the taste of suicide

Away from your filthy tongue

And wash it down with blowflies

Dancing by a loaded gun

‘Cause no one will ever save you

Alone by the edge of your seat

So just peel the lies out of your skin

And don’t let your brain bleed.

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bruises fresh like lemonade

ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ғᴜᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ;
ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

warm blood

mixes with

cold water

and sugar,

a spoonful;

is the citrus

stinging all

your veins

as it slowly

circulates?

rusty nickel

for a glass

metal taste

and chlorine

numb out

the arid heat

and all of the

playground

taunts, sweet

like sweat

and brutal fists

picking out

hard seeds

bones crunch

like melted

ice between

their teeth

but business

is business

even when

the blowflies

come home

so won’t you

try it out and

take a sip—?

it won’t hurt,

i promise.

ᴅ̷ᴏ̷ɴ̷’̷ᴛ̷ ̷ʏ̷ᴏ̷ᴜ̷ ̷ᴛ̷ʀ̷ʏ̷ ̷ᴛ̷ᴏ̷ ̷ғ̷ᴜ̷ᴄ̷ᴋ̷ ̷ᴡ̷ɪ̷ᴛ̷ʜ̷ ̷ᴍ̷ᴇ̷;̷
̷ᴅ̷ᴏ̷ɴ̷’̷ᴛ̷ ̷ʏ̷ᴏ̷ᴜ̷ ̷ʜ̷ɪ̷ᴅ̷ᴇ̷ ̷ʏ̷ᴏ̷ᴜ̷ʀ̷ ̷ʟ̷ᴏ̷ᴠ̷ᴇ̷.̷

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25 – revelations

my schizophrenic shadow wistfully overlooks the edge of the world, and i despair; and i despair.

my vulnerable screams are plangent and writhing, yet no hands clamber for salvation, only mine; only mine. the blood from my scars clot and turn into vicious rubies, scratching under my skin, entangled arteries blocked with the sound of desperate confessions and faithless escape. soporific gazes puncture my eyes like clever sin, injecting doses of pity and false concern, and my diseases lie; and they lie.

against commas and halos, only the propane in my dry mouth tastes of sleep. though the sourest hints of fire is nothing but another bad affinity, another chaotic weather, another apologetic insomnia last night; was it last night? i find myself distraught with overwhelming furore, pervaded senses intruding the compromised chambers of my chest and colliding against my ribs, my painfully-starved ribs. my taut insides churn and hunger against me angrily. i deserve nothing less.

my bruised fingers are mere cowards for not pushing the rusted knife in deeper now, and deeper still. my tender flesh is weak for buckling and shivering against my final prayer for remedy, one last suffering goodbye, an unwritten note belied in self-sabotage. my crass willpower is a fledgling deceiver, for somehow fully convincing my desensitised mind that it can leave no warmth, no life, no breath inside my poorly-shattered spine, by the time she finally arrives too late to wonder why the hell i did such unspeakable actions; oh, she must wonder why.

failure, again; and again. i can do no harm—god, why can’t i?

as cascading chains of sunlight eventually incarcerate my catatonic body in an overwhelming apoplexy of pain, i simply sit in the suffocating confines of that final concluding silence, and morning awaits. mourning awaits.

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I’ve Got All This Blood On My Hands (And None In My Body)

Stay out of the light or the photograph that I gave you
You can say a prayer if you need to
Or just get in line and I’ll grieve you
Can I meet you, alone, another night and I’ll see you
Another night and I’ll be you
Some other way to continue, to hide my face…

~*~

I wanna turn your insides to white (say it ain’t so)

So it looks good on my bedroom walls (black, blonde, red)

My heart’s been bleached by the tidal waves (so wash me out)

I wonder if it had any colour at all (maybe not)

.

(So they say that the switchblade is better than the sense)

Well then, let’s see how you look in basketcase drag

(So they say that all this praying won’t make you a saint)

Well then, let’s see how you look when it goes bad

.

It’s not profound or romantic (it’s a mechanical interlude)

And I’m tired of (waiting for) all the infinite eulogies

(And they all put words in my mouth that) make me feel sick

Babe, I just wanted to sever a vein (but you made it plural)

.

(The incineration of another night, the gunshots rang clear

The townspeople screamed as a body fell out of a windowsill

Sirens wailed and ambulances crashed to the beat of my heart

Screaming “fucking save me!”, but it was all a nightmare thrill)

.

‘Cause Magdalene’s desecrated (and her scripture womb) now ain’t sacred

‘Cause all your best friends will only get together when somebody starts to die

‘Cause you can have your fucking funeral but still end up running late for it

(‘Cause you might) say grace all you want and still throw up (pure lies)

.

(Say it ain’t so) I wanna turn your insides inside out

(Black, blonde, red) And end up drunk on your bedroom walls

(So wash me out) My heart’s been drowned off by the tidal waves

(Maybe not) I wonder if it meant anything to you at all.

~*~

And we’ll all dance alone to the tune of your death
We’ll love again, we’ll laugh again
And it’s better off this way
And never again, and never again
They gave us two shots to the back of the head
And we’re all dead now…

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nocturnes, numbers, nyctophilia

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness—and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark. ~Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

~*~

i.) the jealous penmanship

clever words left tears forming in my brain

ones that i have to open up my healing bruises

just so i could let them out somewhere

somewhere my veins wouldn’t be affected severely

(it was late at night, and my stars called out from nowhere)

sensations poured out from every letter and departure,

as it entangled itself with my nerves and wore them down,

and wore them like a dirty dress, and wore them out to town

until they were worn-out; nothing but a few stray threads.

i burned half of my journals when i turned 16 and stopped trying

to imitate being an author, because writing for me isn’t an expectation–

it’s nothing but another puzzling lock without a skeleton key

and because the most delicate daydream wasn’t mine

because selfishness, to me, is not just another bland adjective

because my bones screamed with the weight of a black hole

because your reveries were enchanting. and mine were f a d e d

n o , i ‘ l l  n e v e r  b e  a s  g o o d  a s  y o u

~*~

ii.) softness, like his heart in the shape of a newborn galaxy

i faded into an ugly shade of something that’s neither monochrome nor coloured;

on the verge of collapsing onto the other side of the fence, threatening madly

but never quite having the contemplation to choose a losing side

as i fell down into the blue of a stranger’s wanderlust eyes.

someone else had taken most of that vibrant shade already, but i managed

to steal away just a sliver, a glimpse, an infinitesimal shiver

and it was the kind of lasting cold that froze summer hurricanes

and kept my breaths visibly foggy and crisply sharp with every inhale

(you never warned me. you don’t know me, but you knew me too well. and i never listen.)

i’ll always be an insignificant detail in the cyan tapestry you painted for yourself

and i’ve accepted that long ago when i said i loved you in my nightmares,

tossing and turning on the bed covered in plastic arrogance because

no other blanket felt warm and comfortable enough for my body to sleep on

until then, i could only sink deeper into the fathomless wish that this universe would end s o o n

i t  w a s  a  k i n d  o f  l o v e  t h a t  m a d e  s u i c i d e  s o u n d  l i k e  m u s i c

~*~

iii.) an abrupt goodbye/the guilty party often disappears first

i was mad at something. i didn’t know what it was, but it was foolish enough

for me to take it out onto the embracing autumn sky, on the taciturn smiles that

were supposed to hold me when tempestuous desolation grabbed at my twisted throat…

and on you. you never meant anything. you just wanted to talk, and so did i,

but my tongue was a spilling box of blades, and every time i opened my

wounded mouth to make you laugh, i always ended up cutting you by accident instead.

(friend, even if i said i’m sorry, can you ever forgive me for what i’ve done to you?)

it was an unreasonable apology, and i erased myself because of my own self-hatred,

but not before leaving footprints of a migraine in your head, which you will inadvertently step on,

slip at, and hurt yourself…fuck. i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why i have

to push and pull apart the only semblance of logic in my life, the only anchor

that keeps me from towing away from the tides, the last person that still feels real to me

when everything else has blurred into an amalgamated indistinct static background;

i don’t know why i feel so smothered, when you’re the only attention i’ll ever have and need.

at this point, the only thing we have is each other’s problems, and the way we both

jeered at it, taunted it, and blocked it out with our own shared playlists until we felt better—

but now that summer was just a distant memory, and so was the scarlet artwork we made of it.

you also needed comfort. but did even try? no. i ran away from the colliding wreckage

as if it wasn’t my fault, and i numbed myself out because i couldn’t do the same for y o u

i ‘ m  s o r r y  i  m a d e  y o u  s a y  s o r r y  s o  m u c h . . .

i  d i d n ‘ t  m e a n  t o  d e s t r o y  e v e r y t h i n g

~*~

iv.) the midnight closes. the violent curtain falls.

the cold glow of my computer screen was rude and restless

and it made my fingers promise, crossed and uncrossed, that i would

stay with it until it slips into comatose. i have rinsed my mouth with lukewarm water

a hundred times to try to wash out the taste of stale coffee, but it never came out and now

i’m stuck with it until morning, until another astrological moon cycle, until i lose

myself in the chemical moments of something that’s so artificially natural.

i’m constantly starving myself, stuck between confidence and relapsing withdrawals of

my past life that i thought i discarded when i finally held on to my shooting star,

but it was always tethered tightly to me by a crimson string. and it always probably will be.

i’m alone. i’m friends with people that talk shit to me in the mirror, and when i bite

my chapped lips and draw blood by accident, it almost feels like atonement. almost.

(i got what i came for and i can’t try again. this is what i want…..isn’t it?)

i know that there are people out there making fun of me and rolling their eyes

petulantly as they bask in the trite, whimsical “perfection” of their storybook existence

but not everything has a happy ending, and not every sad story has to end badly.

i don’t know. i’ll never know. i’m tired and i have responsibilities that i’m not

built for, and every crack turns into a break, and a break into shattered p i e c e s

t o m o r r o w  i ‘ l l  d o  t h i s  o v e r  a g a i n  .  u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  t o m o r r o w s .

~*~

v.) nocturnes.

( a n d  i ‘ l l  s t a y  h e r e )

u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  n u m b e r s  t o  c o u n t ,

a n d  t h o u g h t s  t o  f e e l ,

a n d  n i g h t s  t o  s t a y  a w a k e .

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The Devil’s Vision

Must I denounce myself as a monster while you refuse to see the one growing inside you?” ~Hannibal Lecter

~*~

He drips blood from the corners of his sightless eyes

And wipes it off silently, praying no one has seen his lies

But the devil drew smiles just as he drew out red water

Devour the mind and heart, teeth a grim rorschach splatter

“What do you see?” asks he, as the clock begins unraveling

He pretends the blindfold is tight enough to obscure sin

Enemies will flee as their friends are turned upside-down

The blunt instrument glints, a masquerade of gruesome frowns

And at the edge of the madness, the verge of suspended hell again

The devil sits with discretion, adjusting his veil of human skin

As he tends to the fear, crying in vain, losing their very humanity

And the devil is hungry, oh-so hungry—“do…you…see…?”

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Domestic Park

Desk drawers

Fractured tibia

Stopwatch red

Dream febricula

Medicated blues

Hangover sober

Ready-set overdose

Insides uncovered

Busted-up mouth

Bloodied ceiling

Cracked linoleum

Window unhinging

Screaming children

Playground purple

Tempest tantrums

Drainage overfull

Halted arguments

Gossipy neigbours

“Do-not-cross” tape

Handcuffed endeavour

Guilt-ridden laughter

Covered up with tears

Madness manifesting

“I didn’t do it, dear.”

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The Diary Of Jane; or Three Excerpts

i.) him; or the rest of the infinite lie

Try to find out what makes you tick
As I lie down, sore and sick
Do you like that, do you like that?
There’s a fine line between love and hate
And I don’t mind, just let me say
That I like that, I like that…

revenge is colder than the dark ocean

that you carelessly left me to drown in

fill the chasm with the rest of my blood

and take warmth in my spiteless jealousy

as you want to make me bow down to you

but i’m carried away by your fading current

the horizon bends but never breaks the weight

is there another way to hold on to the sky again?

~*~

ii.) her; or the story no one wanted to tell

Desperate, I will crawl
Waiting for so long
No love, there is no love
Die for anyone
What have I become?

she’s sore and sick from all the fine red lines

her penned diaries have been burned to ashes

and no one tells her how it should be—or why

desperation ascending from her spine and body

“why don’t you die?” the windows were fogged

when she took her own life in that late autumn night

but no one wanted to cry tears for a corpse in a closet

so they buried her the best they could to keep her quiet…

~*~

iii.) them; or the guilt that burned a house

Something’s getting in the way
Something’s just about to break
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane
As I burn another page, as I look the other way
I still try to find my place in the diary of Jane
So tell me how it should be…

the front porch is swollen with pink lightning bugs

the coffee’s cold, but i stopped drinking it long ago

i don’t want morning light to catch up with my sins

i have things in my head that they cannot ever know

so i write a final letter to dear agony, forget to sign it

but it’s never enough to keep my head from screaming

the gunshots should have disturbed their sleeping sister

but she’s not here anymore. i’m sorry. let’s just get this over

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