Tag Archives: dirty

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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Filed under Poetry

L.D.N.S.F.G.T.

Mothers cast tears on both sides of the aisle
Clear your throat and face the world
The verdict falls like bachelors for bad luck girls
Only breathing with the aid of denial…

~*~

Baby girl, I think that some vulgar words

Just aren’t meant for your pretty little ears

.

You can throw away all those dirty looks

Or drive yourself home drinking sweeter tears

.

Don’t threaten me with a good damn time

Like the way your skirt curls when you stand in line

.

And the way life turns pure with the touch of a finger

That middle spot is so pristine, now ain’t it better?

.

Baby girl, just don’t strain yourself thinking

When the world’s too dumb to accept your sinking

.

So don’t waste that pretty little breath on your scream

Save it for when you’ve got something realer than a dream.

~*~

Case open, case shut
But you could pay to close it like a casket
Baby boy can’t lift his headache head
Isn’t it tragic?

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Laundry Detergent

keep that dirty soul for yourself

and wear it like sunday church clothes

no one else wants to wash it anyway

.

there are heavy bloodstains, i guess

but it shouldn’t really be that hard to remove

with all that chlorine in your mouth

.

the forecast calls for rain today, but

perhaps the weatherman is lying to you

just like everyone else that’s not you

.

so spin yourself in a cycle one more time

and when you get sick and dizzy from it all

open the windows and hang yourself out to dry.

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Don’t Turn The Tables Sweetheart, You’re Gonna Dizzy Yourself Sick

Well, she’s not bleeding on the ballroom floor
Just for the attention, ‘cause that’s just ridiculously odd
Well, she sure is going to get it, here’s the setting
Fashion magazines line the walls now, the walls line the bullet holes
Have some composure and where is your posture? Oh, no, no!
You’re pulling the trigger, pulling the trigger all wrong…

~*~

You act like you’ve got a pretty laugh stuck in your ragged throat

Proud of the way you dirty your skin, proud of the way you gloat

About the veins, they’re just veins, they’re just another empty sea

I don’t want to swim, I don’t want to sink, I don’t want to censor me

.

Can you see the way I twist my hair into a noose that I’ll never hang?

Well the knots have hurt my fingers and for a moment my hands stung

All this beauty left to be romantic about, but sometimes nature is a bore

The bayside’s wayside in screaming trees, sometimes nature is a whore

.

When we did it, it was funny, it was temporary, it was just a tragedy

Coming from the cheap seats and you clapped for the longest irony

Now it’s your turn, it’s not funny, it’s forever, it’s a bruised symphony

We paid the balcony scene just to watch a charcoal sob for a penny

.

And your lips spill with attention and gush that you don’t want any

Paint the crooked crucifix on your pallid cheeks with bitter and honey

Now all the hypocrites adore you, blood-type A of sycophantic rude

Play a victim with a rifle to their shoulders, act as if it’s how you should

.

Now the trigger smiles so happy, does that bullet taste like sweet candy?

Do the fucking polaroids show off the best sides of your broken inhumanity?

Make us sorry that this reality didn’t fit your peach-twill dress and sanity

Was it your idea to put the slit in your throat so you can pretend that it’s originality?

~*~

Give me envy, give me malice, give me your attention!
Give me envy, give me malice, baby, give me a break!
When I say shotgun, you say wedding: shotgun, wedding, shotgun, wedding!
She didn’t choose this role, but she’ll play it and make it sincere
So you cry, you cry (give me a break) but they believe it from the tears
And the teeth right down to the blood at her feet…

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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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the house of sinners

You’ve fallen captive to what you thought would
Save you, what you thought would clean your slate
You’re in the thick of it now and you have swallowed the hook
What’s done is done, we’ll continue on with or without you
Pain must exist in order for healing to survive
Neither one will ever serve their purpose alone…

~*~

underhanded whispers

rotting foundations to the very core

flesh devoured by the ego

and cold blood sold to murder slaves—

black eye gouged for black eye

in this parasitic wasteland;

of a home built on crossbones

and mangled hearsay

swallowing teeth and anger

boiling harsh on explosive veins

devouring the starving bruised hearts

until all that’s left is arcane vitriol.

so tear my body apart to pathetic shreds,

expose the lies in my backbone

and make me believe fervently in

your hypocritical preambles,

distorted tales of abuse,

vile corrupted, asinine whining,

and the conjured-up apparitions at the

tip of your foul leather tongue…

i’ll pass it on to another fool;

taking them as you have taken me for.

because oh, i just adore

your stories of foolhardy orphans

and the secret adoptions that

you slipped in our coffee like poison

and now you have the nerve to grit

the dirty money between

your running mouth and say that

we don’t fucking deserve any of your trust

as you shamelessly go crawling back to your mistress

and weep behind red war paint.

a personal sadistic leverage,

that pathetic carnage of a temper of yours.

watch yourself before you accuse us

and don’t speak with the smoking gun

permanently lodged between your

pointing fingers like a quickly-burning cigarette,

because you’re gonna set yourself on fire.

and we’ll stand back and watch

the hostile flames convict you of arson—

among all of the other crimes

you’ve shamelessly committed against us,

because it’s the most merciful thing

we could ever do to you.

~*~

This is my goodbye, don’t worry
We saw through your trickery
And we’re coming out alive, see you at the end
What was once your life is now lifeless
What was once your life is now your jail cell.

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Money For The Honey, Honey For The Money

You workin’ in bars, ridin’ in cars
Never gonna give it for free
Your apartment with a view on the finest avenue
Lookin’ at your beat on the street
You’re always pushin’, shovin’, satisfied with nothing
You bitch, you must be gettin’ old…

~*~

Hear it talk, money’s got mouth, and baby it’s damn dirty

Got the million dollar tongue moving up and down to serve me

Drop the nickel down the drain, don’ worry, I’ll make it rain

Get your kicks at the bottomline and squeeze me ’til I’m drained

.

I may have a silver mansion, but you’ve got them golden fingers

Expensive aftershave may stick for a while, but cheap perfume lingers

What would you do for a taste of the good life, a for bite of luxury?

Before you get to the forbidden apple, you gotta climb the tree

.

Business is goin’ slow but we’ll spend our time in lucrative ways

If I’m already standing at the finish line, then sweetheart it ain’t a race

I’ll buy you everything you want if you sell me the one thing I need

I swear it’s a fair trade, a hint of sweet is enough to staunch the greed

.

This aristocrat has got lands to rule, but I only need your territory

Let me conquer the unknown, tame the savage, satisfy my curiosity

I’m not payin’ to see the show, I’m payin’ to have it made and built

A smile and a signed contract, and I’m yours, and so is the wealth

.

It’s a bit of a cheapshot, I know, but it’s rather rich, coming from me

‘Cause I already have a sturdy shelf, and all I’m missing is a shiny trophy

But oh no no, we don’t gotta shake hands, only bodies to seal the deal

What d’you do for money, honey? Let’s sell out free dignity for valuable thrills.

~*~

So stop your life on the road
All your diggin’ for gold
You make me wonder
Yes I wonder, I wonder
Honey, what do you do for money
Honey, what do you do for money
Where do you get your kicks?

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i heard he thinks he’s a god

I’m not looking for a savior, I have all that I need
And I don’t give a single fuck if god likes it or not
Your picture perfect legacy is quite so fucking disgusting
I put all my faith in your “one two three…”

~*~

your words are clean

but your mouth is dirty

and you have constipation

from your own numskull

if you’re so high, why are

your wings nonexistent

is it because you just need

to trample on the rest of us?

if you’re so heavenly, then

i’m prepared to go to hell

and congratulate the damned

for escaping your bullshit

‘cause if you think you’re all that,

then why don’t you go jack off

to the beat of your own chaste

fucking self-righteousness?

~*~

Be careful what you wish for
You just might get it
Set fire to your lungs and leave you
Choking on the ashes
You’re wasting all the oxygen
Blackballing but you can’t stop falling…

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W h a t · I f · I · C a n ’ t · F o r g e t · Y o u ?

You won’t ruin the sunshine you left glowing on her fingers

They must think it’s dirty, but a work of art can’t be understood

With the pieces they left to light up what you thought you had

The necklace you still keep is just a memory, so careless and rude

If they begin to forget the audacious vivacity that you provide

Don’t wait for another phone call to ring in the middle of the night

The frustration in acrylic veins, alabaster failure they pursued

You gave second chances for the third time, but what if they don’t even want to?

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she’s been waiting for the train with a bus ticket in her pocket.

She built a world with her own two hands
Well just give that a thought
And she don’t ever want to make no plans
‘Cause she don’t go outside no more…

~*~

she hasn’t had her medication yet

and she already fell in love with the relentless rain

they all told her she was a crazy pain

as she hung herself upside-down on the crooked rafters

searching for another heart to surrender

but she didn’t find any, no

as all the blood rushed inside her head

and turned her frail lips a deep red

she won’t kiss anyone with a mouth that dirty

until she wipes it off along with her glittering lipstick

and told her mama that she’s sorry

but that won’t be enough.

as of now, the train station is empty

and everyone has left in pursuit of a better life

but she’s still ripping threads off her timeworn dress

and reading profane graffiti out loud

and making her own in the chipped benches

waiting for a vehicle that never arrives

to take her into an unknown destination, for the bad and the better

rendered frozen as time moves on around her.

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