Tag Archives: comatose

Locked-In

Tell me, did your throat close up

When fingers wrapped around it like

Marionette strings, spindly and ready

To be pulled and consumed, or did

You get a final chance to scream?

.

Did your dear friends pick up your call

Or did your neighbours come a-knocking

When you showed up with purple bruises

On the underside of your crooked blank stare

Or your the therapist dismiss it as insomnia?

.

When the comatose finally began, and your

Rigid flesh contracted as if doused with ice

Water, as you didn’t even take a hot second

To shiver and whimper, dreaded rigor mortis

Taking over, did you try to wake yourself up?

.

Tell me, were your glassy eyes still open

When they stuffed you in that metal box

And the starving flames licked at your body

God’s merciful wrath your only sanctity, or

Were you lucky enough to blink just one last time?

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Cosmic Comatose


ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ʜᴜɴᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ
ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ sᴏ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ
ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʏᴇs
ᴀɴᴅ ғᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ, sᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ
ᴀ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅsᴛʀᴇᴀᴍ
ᴄʜᴇᴡs ᴍᴇ ᴜᴘ
sᴏ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ғᴇᴇʟ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ…


am i insane, stars?

i made exposed promises to you that i am far from keeping,

melted cosmos and calliope leaking from the corners of my eyes

as his fickle thought is ever missing from the warm embrace

that you provide, only for me to find out that it was just a lie.

flowers grow from my pink bones, the longer i starve myself

and soon enough i have a lithe bouquet with a pretty bow

thorns and boughs left in virgin snow, where heavy cherry

blossoms couldn’t hold out ’til spring to shake off the cold

like me. like me with my corrupted lungs and corrupted lovers

and mute corruption in my light, so much so that when it passes

through the stained glass windows of our unmarried chapel, all i see

is grey. and yet, i still pray. i still cast my bruised eyes to the ground

and wipe away the profanities from the corner of my mouth, where he

left them festering, evergreen, so sweet, bittersweet—where he never

was at all. but god, he didn’t cause this! i caused this, most this

lost this, i took the losing chance and loved until my bastard heart

choked with dopamine and plasticine and oxytocin and strychnine and

still…and still! it just wasn’t enough. no. all i could see is the faint outline

of his hands and his cloying laughter and his blurry eyes so blue you’d

have thought an ocean was trapped beneath it. i would know. i would

have drowned. maybe i’ll still have drowned. i’m already drowned.

skin. finite. nothing. the current that carried souls along to solace

love in the time of scarlet fever, and him, and him, and you? and you.

nothing more. nevermore. neverwhere. we’re all here, now.

so tell me this, stars. am i insane? or am i just too human for my own good?


ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ
‘ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴍɪssɪɴɢ ɪᴛ
ɪ’ᴍ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴏғ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀs
ᴋɪssɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ
ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴏ ɪ, ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴏ ɪ
ᴄᴀɴ ғᴇᴇʟ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ…


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Ataraxia

You’re the anchor

In my wrists

The gleaming blade

In my pendulum

.

You’re the cavity

In my quiet smile

The heave of my

Vulnerable pericardium

.

You’re the torn skin

In my cold lips

The glint of light

In my glass shards

.

You’re the smudged dust

In my spectacles

The blurry red eyes

In my polaroid discards

.

You’re the voice

Inside my empty lungs

The sudden curses

Under my breath

.

You’re the comatose

In my hazeless dream

The last vaccine before

Infection leads to death.

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Limbo

Pray disturb not in repose

Doth wish to sleep infinity

A paralysing unconscious

Of nay perforated serenity

Ecstasies of dream visions

Sweating a fever post-REM

Thy malaise of disillusions

From which chimaera stem

Haet! thy rest impediments

Corrupted Sleeping Beauty

Hath thou succumbed unto

Sole mortality of humanity?

Soft cessation of thy breath

Transience of sleep apnoea

Fragile, respiring unto death

Of thou’st dissolute insomnia

Hearken thine heart’s pulsate

A phantasm of reality sorrow

Reveal open the golden gates

Of another ad nauseam limbo

Atonement of thy opprobrium

Lest not thou forget prefatory

Comatose in a latent oblivion

Wandering in abyss purgatory

Forgive thee, for thy have sinned

Eternal rest which thine deemed

Perpetual nightmares haunt forth

Of transgression and sin—nevermore.

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Purple Ink (an adventure in absentia)

You accidentally slipped in purple ink and died

Because you were busy pacing, too preoccupied

Chewing nervously on the end of your dented Biro

Accentuating every last thought with a sigh hitherto

.

Upon waking and discovery, you jolt in a dazed state

Your dirt-beaten striped sneakers noisily squeaking

As you dusted yourself and held your awaiting fate

You began your unlikely journey and start travelling

.

Wandering lost upon a forestry of a wildlife mind

Every thick foliage a verdant idea finely efflorescing

Every path an untraced road of the life you left behind

Crushed carmine blossoms plucked away and wilting

.

No sense of direction. Where are you? The lunar ostentation

Pierces into your amour-propre, setting it blindingly alight

With your foolish absurdity, in bland starless observations

Of the complacent monsters you’ve yet to encounter and fight

.

Chasing after creeping vineyards, when their wine is parched

Do you understand? They’ve nothing left to give your thirsty soul

A paucity of the former, this broken forest you vainly marched

What’s the endgame to this latent excuse of a failing goal?

.

Your sanity has turned upon yourself, hordes of screaming demons

That reach for your insatiable hunger, in a lusting of the brain stem

Where’s the exit? Where’s the exit? You attempt vainly yet stumble, gone

Reaching for the light at the end of the tunnel as they devour your lumen

.

Consciousness prods at your eyes, the form of an almost irritating light

Hear an alarm of a beeping machine like a metronome and salty liquid

Your head shall be fine, you’ll recover, doctors assure your ghastly sight

Their placated shiny smiles of false relief dripping disgustingly insipid

.

You accidentally slipped in purple ink, hit your head, and yet surprisingly survived

They said it was a nice miracle, but then again, the Vatican fabulists love a good lie

For the creatures slopped their saliva all over your cerebrum, infecting you thereon

Think it a ludicrous story? Dear, you should’ve seen that slimy ink you stepped upon.

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