Tag Archives: bury

Bleeding Eyes See It All

Every second’s soaked in sadness
Every weekend is a war
And I’m drowning in the déjà vu
We’ve seen it all before
I don’t wanna do this by myself
I don’t wanna live like a broken record
I’ve heard these lines a thousand times…

~*~

it doesn’t stay the same

every shredded inch

is just another reason for

you to patch it up and change

just so your bleeding eyes

could do some further damage

.

every lie soaking you in

they say it’s just a futile war

and the darkness is a myth

but you’ve seen it with your

own bleeding eyes, so you

know that it actually exists

.

and they tipped the avalanche

that buried you deep under

but refused to take responsibility

pushing your head underwater

but your own bleeding eyes

have seen it all before

.

and it doesn’t stay the same

every invoice on your shredded arms

is just another pathetic excuse for

you to erase it and start over

until your bleeding eyes could

shed their shallow tears no more.

~*~

We should feel the love so painfully
It hurts right to the touch
I know it stings, I know this cuts
And I wish I could agree with you
But this love is not enough.

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Empire

I didn’t feel right then, so I

Built this sturdy iron castle

But you’d made it crumble

With a touch of your finger

And as I foraged the debris

Looking for a piece to save

You stepped over the ashes

And buried me in the flames.

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Post-its for the Past

Now you’re here and you don’t know why
But under skinned knees and the skid marks
Past the places where you used to learn
You howl and listen, listen and wait for the
Echoes of angels who won’t return…

~*~

MAYBE LOST

I have my back on the sun, facing forward

So long and goodnight to the mornings I will discard

In the highway I constructed, shadows shift

I think I’ll be walking on this life they call a road trip.

~*~

CASTCADE

Conflagration flying past oceans, murmuring tacit prayers

Counting fallen feathers for the losing sky-drowned hours

Causeries bartering hanging lights and silver dollar moons

Crashing in collisions of star showers, orbit heaven at noon.

~*~

ANGER DANGER

Leave me to beat out the bad news with a belt

But I never leave scars, only angry marks and welts

Soon they’ll come back for another box round

Perhaps this time I can bury them all into the ground.

~*~

MIRRORED OFFING

The distorted horizons appear to be a looking glass

In which vacant visages can peer out flummox past

Unblinking funicular eyes oscillate betwixt the edge

Again it sinks into cosmic cisterns, glazing the ledge.

~*~

RECEIVED

The letter I sent to the past never arrived for the message

The return address was blurred, I lacked a ten pence postage

So I’ll send another envelope to the future me, it’s enough

This time, I’m changing the postmark and licking the stamps.

~*~

But you’ll just sit tight and watch it unwind
It’s only what you’re asking for
And you’ll be just fine with all of your time
It’s only what you’re waiting for…

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Missed Call

“We make up horrors to help us cope with the real ones.”
~Stephen King

~*~

Every night after his funeral, I always called him on the mobile phone that was buried with him to hear him speaking on the voicemail. Call me rather morbid, but it was simply a little ritual that somehow kept me sane after the loss of my dearest beloved. Though after the events that transpired tonight, I do begin to wonder if I really have managed to retain my sanity after all. Just like any other night, I dialed his number and tapped on the call button; but as I did so, I suddenly heard his ringtone play loudly under my bed. And just as if things couldn’t get any worse, the phone on the other end of the line picked up.

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grave mistake

“My fancy grew charnel. I talked ‘of worms, of tombs, of epitaphs.’ I was lost in reveries of death, and the idea of premature burial held continual possession of my brain.” ~The Premature Burial; Edgar Allan Poe

~*~

buried alive;

screaming my

strained lungs

out, i’m desperately

banging on

the casket door

blood is beginning

to seep from my

nails onto the glass

and onto the

plush coffin floor

buried alive;

i’m twisting and

writhing until

every part of my

postmortem

feels deathly sore

i don’t why i

even bothered

to try when i know

that help won’t come

and i’m secretly

enjoying all this horror.

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A Trainwreck of Thoughts

My heart is pounding fast, I’m out of gas, it never lasts

Serotonin, oxytocin, we’re built for sins and late for mass

Chemical, mechanical faces, daily races underwater

Looking for god in cabarets and never searching for answers

Am I your jester? Will I entertain her? Is the sense in making sense

For a semblance of humanity, insanity, neuropathy

Endowed in chronic migraines and under castigated lies?

Uncertainties play like a chess piece, checkmate, check please

Asking the waiter for the receipt, but he never comes

It’s sympathetic…pathetic, isn’t it?

The empathy that curls and coils and churns in my esophagus

Screaming until my lungs are bruised, traumatic pain, dramatic recluse

In the throes of a black rose, petals falling in a final calling

For the tears in tantrum storming, where are we now?

Somehow…it never changes, the change rattling ranges in our pockets

Never mean a thing, but there’s a hole in your pants

And your nickels are clattering in your mind; never mind

The respect, don’t expect, crestfallen and swollen eyes, do it thrice

Without fail, without avail, without much ado about the gale

They say love was just a tale written in thorns and photographs,

Polaroids and tongues so crass, washing away the blood on our hands

Burying the body but never saying sorry, you’ll never bury the past!

Here I stand. My heart is pounding fast, I’m out of spare tires and gas

Waiting for the moment to last, waiting for the end to finish the past

Will this sempiternity ever end? Will the medication finally bend?

Will this recluse find the chaos amid the calm, will I take on such a task?

My heart slows down, and I’m waiting silently yet patiently for you to ask,

But you never show your cards, and again…I relapse.

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Blind Ears To See, Deaf Eyes To Hear, Mute Mouth To Speak

True friends lie underneath
These witty words I don’t believe
I can’t believe a damn thing they say anymore
Lie! Liar, you’ll pay for your sins
Now! Liar, I know all the places you’ve been
Forgiveness—this taste all but poisons my mouth…

~*~

We all have arbitrary problems

Whether it’s petty or magnanimous

The cryptic remains we wish to seal up

And bury inside a metal sarcophagus

But it could be easily exhumed

Or never even entombed, after all

And inevitably, sooner or later

I shall play the role of the coroner

When I’m contorted in a painful position

It gets to me, red sprites of confusion

To inject dopamine, a blush of adrenaline

But instead I’m simply a machine

Automatic in my messages underhand

Pretending that I could understand

What’s easy is difficult, I go into overdrive

The train of thought which never arrives

I wish I could spill out waves of clarity

Instead of letting the cobwebs gather

In my drying, decomposing mouth

Conflicted about platitudes I muttered

If only I could then convince myself

To cease listening to blaring smoke alarms

Remove the arrow lodged in my trachea

And ask why, it will do me no harm

But instead I end up feeling incompetent

In total oblivion from such a situation

I’m not a companion, but I’m merely a bench

A rusted statue, a broken monkey wrench

Seminal symptoms that cripple and debilitate

Responses taken from a mind that is surrogate

I wish I could confront, interfere, absolve dysthymia

But my tongue is affected by parasaethesia.

~*~

I scream but nothing, nothing will come out, you’ve gone too far
So tell me how does it feel, how does it feel to be like you?
I think your mouth should be quiet ’cause it never tells the truth
So tell me, so tell me why, why does it have to be this way?

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Burying Nevus

It was a few steps forward, twice removed, seconds away from pulmonary distress. The rough patches of ocher blisters felt like frozen ice lodged in his windpipe, a cowardly conviction that he wouldn’t dare speak. His fault. His mistake. His responsibility. Him, a filthy traitor. The constricting bracelets felt like bleeding handcuffs, prosecuting him for his blithe misunderstanding. This was never my intention, yet why am I riddled with disorienting guilt? One voice asked in attrition. It’s not you to blame if you didn’t know. Awareness is key. Another reasoned out calmly. Ignorance is the enemy of reason. A third entity argued in hostility. Every choice made sense, thus, he told them all to shut up so he could think. He bit down on his raw cheek until bile flooded his throat and metastasised as an abrasive lump. The bloodied bruise tasted like a salty alibi in his mouth. He submerged his soberness in liquid regret until it drowned, and sunk in inebriation. After he could think no longer, he made his final decision. He carried through. He knew it was unfathomably wrong, fatally so. But it was warranted.

It was just another scar tissue he had to permanently hide.

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unfinished highways

bury me

in an unfinished highway

where people with

no destinations

and nowhere else to go to

might dare to traverse

an unbroken path

and maybe, just maybe

in that desolate, dust-beaten

incomplete road

i just might be able to

walk away from everything

discover my place, and

find my way home.

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Flag Half-Mast

Litter of trash and debris of corpses

Stench of blowflies, decay, maggots

Counting the casualties, all-in losses

With ideologies of an exorbitant rot

Pay no attention to its sickly colours

Huddle under naught but old prayers

All left unheard by those with power

Desecrating humans into scavengers

Scattered, diseased, a corrupted vein

Severed from life of a wicked system

For economy, for democracy or idiocy

Wolves in suits thirst more for insanity

The nation is mourning in bereft wails

But everyone gregariously hears to fail

And they’re too busy bickering over the sound

Of a dead country being lowered on the ground.

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