Tag Archives: bruises

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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b.r.a.i.l.l.e.

i am with the wind.

and the exhilarating thrill

envelops every sense,

taking my aching bones,

my hour-old bruises,

my smiling chipped teeth,

my angry brown scabs,

and lulling them back to rest,

making the pain seem like

just another pastel dream.

everyone’s just a myriad blur,

a riot of ceaseless colours

all rushing past me as

wheels bite gravel and spins

me to a whole new revolution

of a different planet in a

different existence where all

those bad memories don’t exist,

only i, and the sweat and rain

soaking the angel wings on

my back; feeling gravity

and friction and momentum

and all those ethereal forces of

the universe ensconced between

my scuffed red sneakers.

it’s all tricks and treats,

and it doesn’t matter if i fall

and eat concrete a thousand times

trying to do the same thing over again;

it doesn’t matter if i go home

always with new holes all over my

favourite jeans and jumpers

every single damn time;

it doesn’t matter if i’m being

chased away by the people who

think it’s a vagrant’s crime…

because the past and future tense

doesn’t matter when freedom

is felt right here, right now,

with me and my ride,

and i am the wind.

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Colourblind Memory

And when I see you
I really see you upside-down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around
If you feel discouraged
That there’s a lack of color here…

~*~

It was an easy kind of self-destruction; the one I never had to beg for.

After a few nights of staying awake and listening to cheaply-constructed songs on the static radio, I was already haunted. Copper chain links that stabbed at the fictional horizon and left unstitched scars on the exposed wind. Shy vespertine flowers that bloomed in the most coruscant spectrums, but only when no weeping eye was there to witness their exquisite grandeur and compose concerto symphonies about it. An infinite, arrogant, wakeless kind of blue that rivaled every transatlantic and pacific direction that I chased; but, unlike the oceans of this planet so drenched and cold and jaded to the bone, no one is ever able to cross it, and no one ever will.

And violet. A damnable shade, akin to roses-not-reds and forget-me-nots, that violet. A bleeding, dirty kind of violet that left filthy, undecipherable Roschach stains everywhere. Splattering the bruises of my halted tongue, shading the asphyxiation of my untouched lips, violently overtaking the rock-steady sorry secret that was divulged and diluted all too late. It painted a tragedy that only the most damaged and paranoid artists could understand, and rending shreds of the purest agony down my colliding ribs that not even the most genius maestros and starving dilettantes could begin to dissect; for it was a foreign anatomy. A different unknown. A beyond the beyond. It was brutally twisted inside my veins and gauchely discarded somewhere in between sense and sanctuary, photographed and arrested in another postcard vintage lie. I could write graphite letters at the back all I want, but I’ll never swim away from the indigo waves in front. It was our holiday memory, drowning me again and again and again.

Absolutely useless. It couldn’t aid my breathing. It couldn’t save my sleeping. It was a disease that was highly susceptible only to my atrophied words and comatosed syllogisms—the same unfortunate ones that are now leaving my chafed fingers but never my wornout mind, like you, like you, like you.

Unrelenting. Unsuspending. Unending.

All my colours were inverted. And no one can turn it back the right way.

If there even was one.

~*~

Please don’t worry, lover
It’s really bursting at the seams
For absorbing everything
The spectrum’s A to Z
This is fact, not fiction
For the first time in years…

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Torment

I hurt myself again today

And I’m sorry that I did

I don’t know. Why am I so afraid

Of never bleeding out?

.

The silence speaks to me

And it speaks in a thousand voices

And it tells me what I’ve done

.

I know what I have done

.

I want to undo everything

And start somewhere

That doesn’t involve any bruises

And burns over marred skin

.

If only someone could tell me

Where that is

.

So I don’t have to be lost

In a tidal wave of old promises

As old as forsaken happiness

I said I would always try to keep

But gave away to the grasp of time

.

It was my forgotten concept

But with no one to teach me again

It’s all I can do to remember

And try to heal what’s left of me.

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scar tissues

Baby, pour over, tell me, are we concrete?
What would you do without
My perfect company to your undressed spine?
And I can hear you drag behind my car by your broken legs
(Swallowing stitches in her sleep as she)
Stole my only view, may I never blink…

~*~

i am your bare bones

and the words that can fracture it

a faked death, disappearance

in the lonely asphalt ash

so undress my bad memories

take off that pretty, pretty, pink dress

and show me the lacerations

the lingering bruises on my spine

of your decayed entertainment

modern anxiety at its brutality finest

and tell me again how bad

all of my imminent injuries were

until i can feel enough

until i am enough

don’t hesitate on backburners

simply make me believe

that the chemicals in my open veins

serotonin, endorphins, tryptophan—

are not just a lie you made up…

like the raised welts on

my broken, praying wrists

nor the unrecoverable night i came to you,

sobbing and begging for gravity

to come drag me under

underwater, underground,

because i was desperate for it to be over

but we crashed in abstract strokes

only one pair of lungs breathed again;

a sordid altercation.

you’re a lucid dreamer, love

and i have an eidetic memory

and this damn world has selective hearing

over gasoline and sunshine

and the difference that it makes

when you light the aphotic city on fire

like a paradox under my skin.

this is my mass hysteria

although i’m calm at the altar veneer

and absent blank, my mind is an

apocalyptic wasteland

and i’m the sole survivor.

so surround my lavender hands

and black out the soft sodium streetlights

and patch up these obscene bones

and simply say the words

to make me forget.

~*~

Listen, I’m the one who made you
I’ll be the one who brings you down
But this will be the last time…

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bruises

i don’t like myself

any more than you do

but i wondered why you

always stuck around

even when i hurt you blue

i don’t want myself

any less than you did

but i wondered why we’ve

always bothered to care

when it hurt us both red—

why do we hate ourselves?

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anatomical dissection: nerves

they love bruises

like crushed plums

and gaping slits

like cranberry juice

and they love to

paint the sky with it

because they think

it’s so bloody beautiful

.

with tortured grins

and metal instruments

and a blindfold to the

eyes of the ignorant

sickening voices coo

“this won’t hurt at all”

while making sure that

the pain lasts an eternity.

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Filed under Poetry

blood red, snow white

Wake up in a dream, frozen fear
All your hands on me
I can’t scream, I can’t scream, I can’t escape
The twisted way you think of me
I feel you in my dreams, and I don’t sleep…

~*~

vivid red, the camellias were

in full bloom today,

lush petals on a pillowed heart

.

i was finding my way

to return from tepid tides

breaking away from venus light.

.

are you hiding your needles?

From which i used to attract the

sovereign flies with, fettered

.

among suspicious hostile twitches

and pulled-off moth wings

decaying with secrets in the kitchen cabinet

.

i do not deserve absolution.

I deserve punishment and jealousy

patched upon each humilified aphorism

.

i am no longer concerned if i have

already bled out, or breathed in,

or both. or perhaps none.

.

but i am fairly certain of the

fingernail scars, tracing louvre patterns and

loveless artwork all over my arms

.

restrained; concealed amid furious

ensconcement and violent bruises

almost as pure and as fresh as

.

vivid red, the camellias were

in full bloom yesterday,

lush petals covering a beaten heart.

~*~

I can’t save your life, though nothing
I bleed for is more tormenting
I’m losing my mind and you just stand there
And stare as my world divides
You belong to me, my snow white queen
There’s nowhere to run, so let’s just get it over
Soon I know you’ll see you’re just like me
Don’t scream anymore my love, ’cause all I want is you…

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Sharp Edges

But these bruises don’t breathe

Unless you ameliorate them

With your own cold, lifeless hands

.

The daylight appears desolately bleak

Sucking out watercolour dawn and sunset

Waiting for you to speak about them

.

Jagged contusions that I tend to

Hiding constellations when you’re awake

Afraid that you’ll leave me for the light

.

Midnight is but a chemical rush

Your body is but an unfinished work of art

Morning is but an automatic languor

.

I’m useless anyway; so use my trophy eyes

And when you get tired of the view

You can blind me and throw away whatever’s left.

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heartburn

We see you laugh, we see you dance
We take that away every day
We see you cry, we turn your head
Then we slap your face…

~*~

dive around

and let sympathy

sugarcoat your

vile tongue

as if your flesh

wasn’t already

repulsive and

bleeding through

your sleeves.

disappointment

slinging stones

at the back of

your throat,

hoping you’ll

lose breath

on rough gravel

and cough out

silver bruises,

falling mercury

as your lips

collapse around

invisible shadows,

deformed and

ill-percepted.

you slow your steps

and put one foot

in front of the other

unsteady, cautious,

hoping that each day

brings less hell,

but letting numbness

embrace the cold

muscle between

your flat lungs,

incarcerated between

your broken ribcage

so you don’t ever

have to feel the

searing imminent flames

shredding all of your

hope.

~*~

We see you try, we see you fail
Some things never change
We hear you cry, we hear you wail
We steal that smile from your face…

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Filed under Poetry