Tag Archives: damaged

crooked stars

I braved treacherous streets
And kids strung out on homemade speed
And we shared a bed in which I could not sleep at all
‘Cause at night the sun in retreat
Made the skyline look like crooked teeth
In the mouth of a man who was devouring us both…

~*~

i defy you, stars.

i want to defy you.

but how could i do that

if i could barely defy

my own skin that i wear?

my own skin that i tear

until its appearance is

beyond any form of recognition

beyond any form of salvation

but i can’t go outside and

live a normal life without it;

i still have to wear it

despite how wornout, how

bleached, how damaged,

and tattered with moth holes it is.

so for a moment, i’m ashamed

for a moment, i feel sorry

that i lost control enough to

shred apart the thinnest veil of

a sanctuary that i have left,

and no amount of careful stitches

will return it to former beauty;

will return it back to the way it was.

you defy us, stars.

you need to defy us all—

despite how much pollution

there is in the sky to

render you lost and numb,

you cast the ethereal light of

your glowing skin upon

the pale atmosphere

and leave quaint scars

over our ugly, filthy ones.

don’t defy me, stars…

please don’t ever defy me.

everything’s left for dead now.

you’re the only one left.

~*~

I’m a war of head versus heart
And it’s always this way
My head is weak, my heart always speaks
Before I know what it will say
And you can’t find nothing at all
If there was nothing there all along…

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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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anatomical dissection: chest

damaged boy, don’t let it show

hide your marks, don’t let them know

a mirror naked, undress your heart

pretend that you’re a work of art

damaged boy, why don’t you go help?

instead of trying to save yourself?

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Filed under Poetry

Come, Morning Light

The fire that left your blanket in ashes

Won’t trouble your cold heart anymore

And the angels that carried your parents

Will not return to take your heart to soar

.

As your little grey ragdoll sits by the ruins

Of the playground you once called “home”

And the shadows that used to play with you

Have disappeared, and now you feel so alone

.

Your tears have mixed with the relentless rain

That put out the wild flames alighting the city

Blossoms wilt and thorns flourish in the grass

The bloodred sunset is more scary than pretty

.

Your brother and sister went off with toy guns

And never returned even after they all promised

So now you sit by the orphanage’s cellar stairs

With others who lost their mummies and daddies

.

Are you alone in this world of detritus and rust?

Every light is killed with a dropping bomb again

Death is your lullaby, quiet music behind the dust

Faithless, will there be someone to save you then?

.

But no, don’t you cry now behind that gas mask

I’ll keep you safe from all the questions unasked

I’ll sing you a song, as this sky falls in fragments

Shield you with my wounded arms from the glass

.

Please don’t fear, you will never have to be hungry

You might dream of hell but heaven is yours to see

Asphalt grey and storms of gloom, as wind billows

Muffle every disaster, sleep soundly in your pillow

.

The war was never meant to be fought by innocence

Just machines to tear apart and men with losing sense

To your damaged soul, fettered with doubts and fears

No one will hurt you now…you’ll be alright, I promise

.

Someday the battle will end, and hope shall soon arrive

We can’t take back what’s lost, but we can change our lives

Open your eyes when the sun returns to shade the dawn

To see the rising daybreak where all your nightmares are gone.

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Filed under Poetry

open season

i have never told you a single thing

because i do not want you involved

i do not want you to get in the way

of such trainwreck i have devolved

if it was better for me, i would bite

they all say it’s what’s fucking right

but i know there’s not a damn point

there’s only cliche bullshit to anoint

of medication and invasive therapy

that leaves no personal room for me

and i do not want paid-for sympathy

nor will i waste my time for insanity

six years i’ve been dealing out alone

and i’m still alive right now, aren’t i?

i’ve done everything to keep it all in

fucked in the head with fucking lies

but i’m fighting back, broke apology

i cut my wrists, but never too deeply

i repress depression, relapse, release

i’ve people to pull me out of the seas

i still hope, i still dream, and i’ll love

i’m still disgustingly human by blood

i am damaged, but that does not mean

that i’m not trying to change anything

so please just stay away from this mess

and honestly, this is just all for the best

say it’s help my mind need endures, but

you just might end up making me worse.

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Filed under Poetry

huma[n]chines

we’re all

damaged

little gears

in a damaged

large system

all gnashing

and grinding

and crashing

and breaking

to keep this

dysfunctional

society working

properly.

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Filed under Poetry

A Mouse in the Kingdom of Lions

All eyes on me, castles falling
Glory, glory, I’ll rise like a one man army
I don’t wanna die without living
I can’t fight without winning
All eyes on me, I’ll rise like a one man army…

~*~

In these destroyed ruins I stand in eulogy, beating the drum

For the voice of dead angels and the harps left unstrummed

Corrupted blood rains down in blizzards of prideful torrents

This efficacious fight’s dishonour gradually refusing to relent

.

So proclaim me wrong, devour this bravery to the starving wolves

For deceit and manipulation is the singular truth I’ll boldly uphold

Attention wrought to the tumultuous voices of the silent anarchists

Uncivil battles engaging against the flames of the contrite arsonists

.

Was thus my gullible sin? Have I persuaded concentric fools yet again?

Dost I have to beg mocking demons just to return to my fallen Heaven?

False, it exists only within old locked towers, behind walls of a fantasy

Hell is a decadent salvation, the final hour’s reverence and only mercy

.

Shards of glass cruelly beleaguering my gregarious scars and wounds

Forgiveness as unforgiving as the darker repasts of the eclipsed moon

The dagger I hold is a facsimile of my humble chivalrous restorations

I’m but another violent visionary rejecting sheer valiance of perdition

.

So reap my damaged soul, for it’s already damned in sacrificial benevolence

And such tempest has defied my will, as it pilfered my crumbling innocence

Yet I shall raise my poisoned sword, nay to my chest, but to my heavy chains

In this kingdom of a wasteland I have created, only the defeated shall remain.

~*~

Even when we’re lost
It doesn’t have to mean we’re losing
I will overcome if I fight now, right now
Never fear, never fall, never giving up
‘Til you give me what I came for
I’m through with all the time I’ve wasted
Battle stations…

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Filed under Poetry

stains

inkstains

of the words

that never

made sense

but i write it

down anyway

.

tearstains

from the music

i never believed

in, but felt with

every heartstring

that snapped

.

bloodstains

from the razors

i grasped with

conviction, but

left smudges of

trembling fingers

.

stains

from different stories;

chapters of the tales i’ll

never confess out loud

dark taint in pages pure

damaged paper that has

been through a lot, from

a damaged person that has

been through a lot more.

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Filed under Poetry

Paragon of Humanity

The searing heated cavalry

Simply feels like a paradise to me

And the glorious neurosis

Is a quaint dream of fine vagaries

Suffering ever truculently

Tickles my funny bones to hilarity

Blood of degraded society

Is but a fickled merry game to me

Funerals are a funtime past

An opportunity to rejoice and laugh

Contagious diseases, it must

Be passed on hospitals with scoffs

Mundane traits of ideologies

Are superannuated and wearisome

Axioms but status quo antes

I’ll indoctrinate my manifesto none

I shall rehabilitate this planet

With my ingenuity and a straitjacket

Unstraighten the spinal cords

With sharp wit and charming words

Yes, all my outré predilections

Might be cause for desultory scorn

But the deleterious injections

It renders me numb to any emotion

The world is a damaged beast

And I’m the perfect nouvelle paragon

On this menagerie of heretics

I’m the sanest man you’ll have known.

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Filed under Poetry