Tag Archives: emotional

fire escape

a quiet blue burn

in the spaces of my palms

taking me within

keeping my numb mind warm

.

a quiet blue burn

leaving blisters on my arms

it doesn’t hurt at all

it only drags out colder harm.

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TORTURED

Thespian fascination dares to overtake me

Oppressing every facile notion in quiet synergy

Red is the shade to which my dreams fade

Tortured is the tint to whence desire is unmade

Undercover lover, eyes may forget why love

Repents in fragile oneirism, it’s all you ever have

Eternally bartering in an abundance of stitches

Delaying the pain reverent when your heart hitches.

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Isolated Distances

Push them away with the whim of a wind

Until their stretched fingertips are irretrievable—

.

You are falling, alone in chasmic rage;

They need not suffer with your chagrins.

.

Draw away further until no one can ever reach

The dangerous flare that burns skin and town alike…

.

No harm, nor ache, nor hurt, nor pain,

Needs superfluously to cross their aureole smiles;

.

They’ll remain alright as long as you are not

And the sun will keep revolving in the absence of your breath.

.

Though if you only wished to express clamorous such

Contagious toil, in the faith that some empathetic mortal

.

Will understand, and hear you out, and actually listen—

How inconsiderately conceited and selfish of you.

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They’re Better Off Without You

Arrogant boy, when will you ever learn?

That this world is not made up of roses and thorns

Sometimes the blossoms wilt but the weeds will remain

Waiting for a chance to stick briers in your name

You can stop chasing good girls by their hourglass hips

And bringing more rounds of vodka and shotgun to your lips

You can stop using your arms as a substitute ashtray

Or your skin as ivory to carve out sculptures in scarlet clay

And all your best friends that proclaim they’re sincere

Draw insults behind your back and say it’s good fun and fair

They don’t have time for drama, but get front row seats

When you’re deep in the mess, entangled in bullshit

Your smile is bleeding out, teeth scattered on the sidewalk

“Good one, guys” you say, but they never want to talk

Your eyes don’t need fists to be darker than they already are

The lack of sleep does that, when you have come home from war

You read the daily newspapers to know about everything else

Trying to care about them, when you don’t know anything about yourself

You give up your seat for others, thinking it’s an act of selflessness

When in reality, you just hate yourself to much to deserve any duress

And you think that you’re happy, but you’re just distracted

Choosing to admire the vivid carnage when you have self-destructed

Because it’s all the same to you, and it just doesn’t matter whether

Your life gets blown apart mile-high or moves inch by inch like a feather

Blind boy, when will you see that they’re all laughing at you?

Your youth is too old to pursue the optimism of a hard-knock truth

When can you draw the broken line between a break-up and a breakdown?

When will you stop trying to swim and simply let yourself drown?

Ignorant boy, don’t be sorry for believing the lies, but will you ever even learn

That this dismal, ravaged wreck of a world will turn and turn and turn

No matter how much you stumble, trip, and cry on your faded hand-me-down shirt

Time won’t stop, your friends won’t care, your wounds will still bleed and burn

You can scream but no one will listen; foolish boy, don’t you see you’re not much worth?

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i can do shameless too (and this one goes out to you)

a s h a m e d

of violent emotions

branded on the

underside of my

numb, petulant brain,

making dizzy patterns

and dainty waves

and tracing cicatrices

of infantile graves,

returning to plague

what i always confused

and refused to admit…

y e s  i  c a n  f e e l

as the argent feathers

on your hair are effulgent,

dwelling ebony shades

escaping the delight of

my aspired clairvoyance.

they spite me for being

no stranger to the beggar

c a l l e d  l o v e

for always greeting it

rather fastidiously and

tossing a merciful nickel

whenever i chance upon it

on a bustling boulevard,

instead of spitting and

sneering condescendingly

and holding back my

burning tongue to trip it.

am i cruel for being kind?

dear, you’re a halogen

h a l l u c i n a t i o n

and i am but a yonder

sabotaged daydream

and i shall keep on falling

victim to your musings,

like a burning ochre moth

to the sickly sweet fragrance

of the kerosene oil…

so, is that truly my solitary

t r a n s g r e s s i o n ?

for being able to accept

what i’ve always constantly

abhorred and denied,

only to discover in denouement

that i’m the only fool that’s

crashing unsteady bridges

and drowning in the process—?

i shall not be craven of

the grander bouts of unknown,

for i’ve my own armament

tucked and hidden away

in a four-chambered dungeon;

ready to slash and shear

at the abstract canvas which

they all mocked as an

i n s u l t i n g  a r t w o r k .

you are not incarcerated,

but i am yours perpetual to

black out to the moon

and i will return from my

stratosphere holiday carrying

a souvenir star, lifting

the light to you, so that we

will never have to be

a s h a m e d.

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Primal Fear

I can’t escape myself
So many times I’ve lied
But there’s still rage inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can’t control myself…

~*~

I can’t last, can’t escape

My bloodshot eyes can’t tell

I can’t love, but can hate

Cage the animal in eternal hell

.

I tried to let go of the knife

In the past, when it was dark

But the nightmare in my life

Can’t be tamed with a mark

.

I can’t last, can’t escape

My bloody hands hang limp

I can sleep but can’t wake

Burn the beast when it sinks

.

I have tried to shake off

All the voices in my brain

But the screams and scoffs

Causes an eternal migraine

.

I can’t last, can’t escape

All the blood has exited my body

I can’t fake, I can’t take

Bury the creature in the cemetery.

~*~

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?
No one would ever change this animal I have become
And we believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become
And we believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal…

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Talk It Out

You don’t need my puerile mouth to bleed

So delete me from your life and never look back

I’m just another all-assuming, time-consuming need

Ad-libbing in your face like bum bum, sad fuck

And I get it, I swear to hell, I really do get it

You don’t deserve qualms, and I don’t deserve shit

Making stories, faking memories, did that really happen?

I would try to remember, but I wasn’t there then

So go on and hold the sharp grudge against my throat

But please wait your turn to capsize the sinking boat

Backlash chaos, laughing in mania and apology

Liquid sarcasm tastes as sweet as spoiled royal milk tea

You’ll be the judge bringing the gavel down my head

I’ll be the death sentence man winking once before I’m dead

But guess I don’t need your putrid mouth to bleed

And you’re just another time-assuming, all-consuming greed

Let’s explode one more time and crash in wasted gasoline

Before I delete you from my life and never look back from the murder scene.

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sweet sundown sky

there’s a peach hanging from the sky

or maybe it’s an apricot

or a freshly-ripe pomegranate…

but whatever it is,

it looks deliciously sweet and succulent

and i’m very much tempted

to pluck it off the honeycomb fade

of the descending horizon

even though it might burn my fingers—

and take a bite of that tuscan sun

to taste a million explosions

dancing and flaring on my excited tongue

for a final palatable moment

all before the golden platter sunset

is ushered away from me

and the table is draped with velvet ebony

embroidered with scintillating stains

of sparkling yellow sugar

presented marvelously before me

and i open the silver tray in anticipation

only to be delightedly surprised

with a half-eaten moon pie.

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Hard Times

Hard times, gonna make you wonder why you even try
Hard times, gonna take you down and laugh when you cry
These lives, and I still don’t know how I even survive…

~*~

Someday I will be able to walk

Without slipping on liquid gold

Dust away the dirt off my name

And keep the paper cranes I fold

.

Someday, and I will promise myself

I would do anything to get them out

From a wishing well empty of coins

And into a world worth keeping now.

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in which love is just another imagined story by a hopeless writer who has dysgraphia

“and though to my arms you are forever lost,
you are a prisoner in my fantasy.”

~Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz

~*~

you are my sweetest fiction,

conjured, derived from the very ends of

the lacklustre impediment

that is my algid imagination.

light calla lips flushed pleasantly

(though, i may only be imagining it so)

elusive soul a taunting fugitive

(from which i could never hope to catch

with bare hands and bare feet)

cerise smile melting upon liquid gaze

before i then realise—the blood was my own.

missing birthdays, unsent letters

piling into sealed dictionaries upon my oaken desk

and again, i weep the night sky

in the grievous absence of your starlight.

falling, falling; lilies, lilies,

plucked like shimmering innocence

from the skin of my gritted teeth, sighing

irreplaceable—!

though, your divine body is not mine

to ruin and revere relentlessly

under eternal storybooks and lost volumes of

anthologies, the empty pages

all at once interjecting: “impossible?!”

but, is it always so? must my fluttering shyness

be short-lived like your tyranny?

surely we must not always adore the

blinking butterflies, cascading iridescence

billowing solemnly into my reverie—

accidental interruption.

aralias, aralias; painful, painful;

i am to dirty fly as you are to decadent fruit

dragged down rather cruelly into

the ad infinitum of your fiery veneration

and i am unable to twist my words into cathartic

crashing, collapsing, holding it in…

but, i do not mind at all; for i lost mine

the moment you slipped from enthrallment into

the ache of my charismatic sternum,

submerging me in pacific oceans of desire—

enchantingly alluring me into the cozen, shackling confines

of the prison you call your heart.

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