Tag Archives: eyes

Mirage

Alright. Alright.

Let’s keep it simple. Let’s dissolve the convoluted hyperboles with a dose of sedating fentanyl and simply look the problem straight in its eyes.

Blue.

Not just pastel or skylight or marine or brilliant or midnight or cobalt or baby blue, no. But the kind of blue that makes any other shade of blue look lifelessly grey. The kind of blue you left me with watery gazes and sinkholes, when you left your thoughts to fester unstoppably in mine. The very kind of blue I never thought I’d hate to love.

Until now.

Sometimes, it faintly tastes of the tranquil oceanic breeze, and I could rest easy by the lonely bayside as I let my wandering thoughts ponder cautiously. Tiptoes clumsily traipsing against curious hope and lukewarm sand, fallen horizons blushing a pallid sunset orange, caught smiling unaware whenever I chance upon the nuanced way you adored every delicate brushstroke on the canvas I painstakingly laid out for you; an artist cursed to draw the same portrait forever.

Sweet. Bitter. Nothing.

Sometimes, it’s destructive blizzards all at once; mental violence haphazardly spitting ammunition directly into my targeted chest, turning me into a tattered tapestry of miserable fury—barely fit to be called human. My mind wails and shrieks as it rakes its bladed nails down my spine, coming undone at the uncontrollable paranoia that the very same paintings which brought your attention to my existence would now cause you to draw loathing deep into my skin; an artist blessed to despise their own creations forever.

Tantrums. Bloody. Everything.

My convictions are constantly wavering, my tessellated identity shattering into stagnant fractals if I even so much shed a sliver of you off of my armour, and the overgrown thorns that once quietly infected my lungs sting a whole lot worse when I try to pull them out. So I lie between my gritted chemical teeth and pretend it’s for the best, but no amount of feigned reassurance will ever quell the tormented pangs writhing inside of me, wrenching badly-stitched arteries apart again and crushing my fragile bones to silver dust. Irreparable.

Useless. Helpless. Hopeless.

And still, that blue—god, that damned kind of blue—so vividly engraved behind my closed eyelids like a restless epitaph. Keeping me wide awake and screaming silently in the cramped jail cell I call my home as it softly lulls me off into perpetual sleep. Far away from the echoes of the observable universe, and everyone else, and nothing else. Your inimitable shade of blue.

The kind I hate I love.

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Dying on the Dashboard

I could only gaze in quiet longing as he crushed the cosmos beneath careful fingers, blushing blossoms reduced to nothing but bleeding pink petals; counting off to another inevitable “loves me not.”

Eyes of dusky skylines. Auburn locks, autumn leaves, idyllic motions. Quivering lips so reddishly fragile, I’m left to wonder if I even dare to bruise them.

I could never hurt you. Would you do the same?

His lithe body gently shifted closer to me, finally closing that small space between us that somehow still felt like millions of miles away to me. Though I am comforted by the steady escaping warmth of our dalliance, the tasteless, tangible absence of his unfazed thoughts left something rather hollow—still left to be selfishly desired.

Tell me, why do you ache?

A pause. An overcast sigh. Wilted cosmos falling from cold palms; bitter, bitter.

“How does someone become a ghost, or a shadow with a smoke ring halo?”

But…I don’t understand. I’m still here, aren’t I?

Aren’t I?

Gold showers of stardust softly rained from above and pirouetted with the tempestuous wind, touching pallid skin, resting on his closed eyelids, and for a moment, he was a perfect constellation—stippled freckles connecting astral whispers connecting interlocked limbs; entangled, unraveled.

“Though I can’t accept the truth, you’re so far away…”

Yet, his lamenting epistle’s final encore—so exquisitely catastrophic—it immediately shattered that ephemeral illusion and left abject phantoms in my nascent chest, constantly haunting me, cruelly suffocating my lungs, callously stealing oxygen and snatching oxytocin; away from me, from you, from us.

“Who am I to ever wake up again, if you’re gone?”

Sunlight falters and fades on the peeling dashboard, scratched with illegible marks and wistfully dressed with our eternal scars. His chagrined eyes—so deeply painted with the darkest shades of midnight—it swallowed up the moon and the stars and the galaxies whole, leaving nothing but lost questions and black holes. My whole world turns into a stunning aurora of roseate silver and palest peach and without meaning to, I accidentally blink.

“I’ll never be the same.”

When I hazily opened my reckless eyes again, he was no longer there.

Were you ever even there?

His lilting dissonant voice still reverberates, through time and space and infinities. But mine forsakes me. Echoes, shadows, sorrows—a scream.

“Let go!”

Now you’re gone…

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xoxo

dear love, i’m quite distracted

by that stray curl of russet hair

and those hazy atmospheric eyes

softly peeking out from beneath

.

dear love, i’m quite distracted

by those sweetly-serenading lips

i reckon your voice needs a rest

dare i move in now for a kiss?

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sanguine

When everyone you thought you knew
Deserts your fight, I’ll go with you
You’re facing down a dark hall
I’ll grab my light and go with you…

~*~

you kicked up reckless dusk,

and for a moment, time was yours.

i sat on the kerb and wept,

lost in the haze of fog and music,

watching the years go by with

nothing more than flammable illusions

cutting open the stars because you didn’t bleed,

waking up with dead skies because i couldn’t love—

letting the alarms go off hour after hour

but never letting the nightmare end, melting

away into paranoia and humiliation,

red lips a soundless “darling, i’m fucking cold.”

ignorant eyes couldn’t see the last of us

until it’s held at speculated gunpoint…

do you have to cross the start of the horizon

before they could see that you’ve died?

do i have to cross two lines off my hand

before i could ever try to live?

~*~

And go with you, I’ll go with you
I’ll go with you, I’ll go with you, yeah
Stay with me, no, you don’t need to run
Stay with me, my blood, you don’t need to run…

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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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The Devil’s Vision

Must I denounce myself as a monster while you refuse to see the one growing inside you?” ~Hannibal Lecter

~*~

He drips blood from the corners of his sightless eyes

And wipes it off silently, praying no one has seen his lies

But the devil drew smiles just as he drew out red water

Devour the mind and heart, teeth a grim rorschach splatter

“What do you see?” asks he, as the clock begins unraveling

He pretends the blindfold is tight enough to obscure sin

Enemies will flee as their friends are turned upside-down

The blunt instrument glints, a masquerade of gruesome frowns

And at the edge of the madness, the verge of suspended hell again

The devil sits with discretion, adjusting his veil of human skin

As he tends to the fear, crying in vain, losing their very humanity

And the devil is hungry, oh-so hungry—“do…you…see…?”

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Filed under Fandom Poetry, Poetry

Plastic Brains

The feigned humanity

That plastic lips fabricate

Speaking of sincerity

As the scarlet inside fades

.

How can mechanical eyes

Speak of soul, speak of pain?

How can a monochrome vein

Bleed out in sunshine and rain?

.

Perhaps hands have to be clever

Perhaps they just fool themselves

But just how could a plastic mind

Speak about the truth of oneself?

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a fathomless void

a weight that can only be felt

by breathing in the wrong kind of ozone

in a desolate universe, unraveling into

rust and dirt and long-ago bleached bones

a single pair of footsteps walk

the path, beaten down by phantoms

and mysteries hanging on an unused crucifix

the rearview mirror beckons minds on

but….onto where? onto the myriad lies that

stumble and fall back into rubbles

bruising careless feet and leaving contrived

wishes of contrition and softer mumbles

and alone—alone the blackened eyes atone,

alone the bastard hair sheds like broken roses,

alone the body dances until imminent decomposition,

alone. the man seeks, but finds no symphony amid the empty chorus.

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Bluer Than Blue, Youer Than You

My empty head is so full of blue

Of bleeding skies and listless hues

Lonely petrichor in hidden dreams

Wish my heart wasn’t so evergreen

.

Hoping wasted hexes aren’t obscure

And the daylight stars are kismet pure

I blink, I wake, I sleep, I breathe, I die

With only pacific blue within my eyes

.

You’re efflorescent June, I’m wilting July

Perfume fragrance and perfume-scent lies

Morning coffee, morning hair, morning regret

Blue as bruises, blue menthol, blue until death

.

Gloom in charcoal and acrylic sighs

Rare as a black hole, losing fallen cries

Wearing cold blue like a feverish flu

Lucid repeat, my ocean angel, tidal you

.

My flooded head’s so full of midnight blue

Of pastel horizons coalescing xanthus hues

Raining embers until the hurricane sleeps again

Wish my empty heart wasn’t lacking aquamarine.

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Contaminated Chemistry

Tungsten eyes will wage a futile war

With hearts so big and minds so small

They saw it coming, but what’s the problem?

You speak of fear and love, but what until then—?

.

Crying wolf won’t keep your hands alive

It’s just another bend, it’s just another night

Giving up is contagious, and I’ll just take the cue

I’m done with being finished, what about you?

.

But the edge of my seat is more comfortable than ever

And the tip of your blade won’t hold me forever

Let’s call a truce before one ends up bleeding in their bed

So let’s call a truce before the winner ends up defeated.

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