Tag Archives: fault

From Cathedral Confessionals To Vacant Motel Rooms

Give us this day our daily dose
Of faux affliction, forgive our sins
Forged at the pulpit with forked tongues
Selling faux sermons, cause I am a new wave
Gospel sharp, and you’ll be thy witness
So gentlemen, if you’re gonna preach
For God’s sake, preach with conviction!

~*~

Prayers at the pulpit, wasted sunlight stalked in grey

Cunning trick and guileful guilt trip theatrics at play

Cavalier coronary effusion, witnesses plead the fifth

The parish resident contradicts, as all the crosses lift

.

Glory conceived in savage strokes of bloodied wines

My conviction is an eviction, tell a jury lies this time

Plagued with gunslingers, spinsters, character shady

Debonair diner apparels, wrinkled trousers, humility

.

The constabulary and congregation condemned revolt

My empirical altruism’s the new cancer, neglect faults

Burlesque shame accentuating formaldehyde intimacy

Asbestos lips, flimsy camisole fumbled simultaneously

.

Tenant engaged medical malpractice, his landlord buys

Epileptic gloating and impertinence, furlough play nice

Sartorial sarcasm and wills held against the desperation

Divorcees eavesdrop on prudent prudes, commiseration

.

Perfumes and newspaper advertisements crying of weddings

Massacring a breathalyser, scotch in prefaced elevator scenes

A paperback syndication concealing secret wretched incident

The allegations made by schizophrenics held to be significant.

~*~

Strike up the band! Whoa-oh, the conductor is beckoning
Come congregation, let’s sing it like you mean it
No, don’t you get it, don’t you get it? Now don’t you move
Just stay where I can see you, douse the lights!

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

metal & skin (xxx.)

i’m sorry

that i did it

but i’m not

sorry for you

and i don’t

fucking regret

the lies i spit

maybe it’s

all my fault

for wanting to

see something

heal and fix

itself in my life

you don’t need

to understand

and i don’t need

to explain myself

i don’t want help

because this is it

so fucking take

that away from

me too, won’t you?

maybe this time

i’ll resort to using

a sharper knife.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Burying Nevus

It was a few steps forward, twice removed, seconds away from pulmonary distress. The rough patches of ocher blisters felt like frozen ice lodged in his windpipe, a cowardly conviction that he wouldn’t dare speak. His fault. His mistake. His responsibility. Him, a filthy traitor. The constricting bracelets felt like bleeding handcuffs, prosecuting him for his blithe misunderstanding. This was never my intention, yet why am I riddled with disorienting guilt? One voice asked in attrition. It’s not you to blame if you didn’t know. Awareness is key. Another reasoned out calmly. Ignorance is the enemy of reason. A third entity argued in hostility. Every choice made sense, thus, he told them all to shut up so he could think. He bit down on his raw cheek until bile flooded his throat and metastasised as an abrasive lump. The bloodied bruise tasted like a salty alibi in his mouth. He submerged his soberness in liquid regret until it drowned, and sunk in inebriation. After he could think no longer, he made his final decision. He carried through. He knew it was unfathomably wrong, fatally so. But it was warranted.

It was just another scar tissue he had to permanently hide.

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Six: bloodspill

it’s

my

fucking

fault,

isn’t

it?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

metal & skin (xvii.)

the guilt

of the fault

is not in

your hands

somewhere

inside me

this is always

what i want.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Pious Condescension

The world does not revolve

Around you and your stupid ideologies

I’d convince you otherwise

But that would be scuffing my own knees

You see what there is to see

Because you’re always looking for the fault

And kvetch like a little bitch

When I shut you down like a deadlock vault

Shit, I hate to break it to you

But dear, your word isn’t the fucking gospel

You’re not a goddamn religion

And your holier-than-thou beliefs can go to hell.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

In the Defence of the Liar with No Fault

I know you hate me , I can see through your eyes
I feel the same way, you had the guts to take me by surprise
Maybe I should call it quits, I know you like to see me like this
I rot inside to fight the fight, you know I can’t win…

~*~

INJECT THE VENOM

I will lie, lie, lie

Smile through my lying little chemical teeth

So bite, bite, bite

And if you die, don’t blame me for being toxic.

~*~

LIKE THE TEETH OF A SHARK

You’re all sad talk and no snarl

I’d get caught between your pointing fingernails

Well fuck me for declaring war

Against someone who’s up for an imminent fail.

~*~

DESPERATE MINDS MEAN DESPERATE MEASURES

We’re playing a game of textbook blame

Spin the bottle, flip a coin, bait my name

All chances and hunches and cold guesses

‘Til you’re reduced to wallow in sorry messes.

~*~

IF THE DOLLAR IS RIGHT

Don’t wake me up, I’ll stay sober without your hate

It’s disgusting and abrasive, the way you’re unmade

By trembling little boys and big guns under your chin

But I’ll shut up, pull the trigger, and choke on my gin.

~*~

YOU’RE A LOADED GUN

I’m just a fucking jerk, so loathe me again

I’m just an easy target, so blast off my brain

I’m just a tactless bitch, so keep on crying

I’m just another fuck, so hate me for hating.

~*~

Maybe I should cut my wrists
You know I’ve never been fucked like this
You’ve ripped my heart apart
You know who you are
You’re a godamn liar, you’re a goddamn liar
I don’t want to care, like I want to care…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

lucid

I thought we had a damn good thing
A penny in the couch and a diamond ring
So baby stay away from my friends
‘Cause I need them to carry me…

~*~

i don’t

ask you

to stay away

from my

friends

because i love

the aloof

poignancy

that your

memory lends

i only

ask you

to stay away

when the

moonlight dims,

and the

nightmares are

renewed…

just stay away

from my d r e a m s.

~*~

When it’s over, I’ll count back from ten
And you can listen to glass hearts shattering.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Six: Lost

i’m

lost;

it’s

all

your

fault.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

See Jane

Jane was taught many things throughout the course of her life. Jane was taught to be a good girl to mummy and daddy. Jane was taught to say her prayers and obey what she was told to do. Jane was taught to clean herself up and clean up after herself. Jane was taught to do her straight auburn hair up in ribbons and pigtails, polish her red maryjane shoes into a dazzling shine, and wear her best cotton pastel dresses. Jane was taught to walk with proper posture, smile gracefully, speak in a soft feminine voice, and to go about with tasks in an elegant finesse. Jane was taught to learn her academic lessons well at the private all-girls catholic school she was attending, and as well as her weekly lessons about faith and God at Sunday class in the town church. Jane was taught not to play too roughly, never to join the bad flock of black sheep, and to generally stay out of trouble. Jane was taught to be polite, friendly, amiable, and to be approachable and presentable. Simply put, Jane was trained to be a perfect girl, and she was taught to love it.

What was wrong with Jane?

Jane was the epitome of nice. Jane was the classic textbook example of the girl next door; charming, demure, a bonny maiden with a beautiful appearance and personality, living a scripted, sterile, storybook suburban life. Jane was a starchild, excelling in everything and anything, always at her best. Jane was sociable, had lots of friends and could easily make new acquaintances. In the morning, among the company of people, she was quite pleasant, a darling sweetheart in the glossed-over, uncrutinising eyes of the faceless neighbours. See Jane greet. See Jane traipse. See Jane dance. See Jane laugh. See Jane wave. See Jane smile. See Jane happy. But alas, that was the full extent of their limited perception. To them, Jane could be summed up in positive words less than three syllables long. They could never see the actual Jane, dark and complicated. They couldn’t glare past the cracks of the well-practised façade, and take a gander at the real version that’s not made of plastic skin and porcelain eyes, refusing to see the truth of the perfect girl that barely sleeps at night. See Jane depressed. See Jane grit her teeth. See Jane scream. See Jane self-harm. See Jane feel empty. See Jane strut mechanically. See Jane do drugs. See Jane muffle her crying on her pillow. See Jane as a complete fucking mess.

What was wrong with Jane?

Jane was taught many things in the course of her short life. Be this, be that, don’t do this, don’t do that, Jane never learned to think for herself. Simply put, Jane was brainwashed to be the perfect girl, and she absolutely hated it. In the end, it was not Jane with the fault, she was only the innocent victim. Rather, it was her guardians, her teachers, who missed a crucial lesson that might have saved Jane from self destruction. For Jane was only taught to exist, but she was never taught to live. Teeming alongside the controversy now, the very same life enveloping death that the multitudinous attendees are currently buzzing with. The haughty crowd, all clad in black garb, then proceeds to judge Jane with whispered huffs, gossiping under thin walls and blabbering behind paper fans hatefully, shaking their heads condescendingly with a chorus of tsk-tsk’s, saying stories and telling tall tales about how Jane was such an amazing girl, it’s such a waste Jane had to go this way, Jane always seemed cheerful and no one ever saw it coming, I remember that one time Jane…, Jane will be missed, nothing but senseless argot and unapologetic bereavement. Today, everyone mourned. But today, everyone also saw an accurate glimpse of Jane for the first time, and unfortunately, for the very last.

See Jane die.

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose