Tag Archives: girls

The Madman’s Magnum Opus

Insane is all I know right now, and my head feels demented

My nails fall out, my gums decay, before I get sedated

I choke on my teeth and swallow a few, shit, it feels hard

As they wring the spit from my eyes and again I’m a discard

So numb that I couldn’t feel the knife on my spine anymore

And I couldn’t count the tally marks screaming on the wall

Keeping track of the infinite days when the demon lets me be

And inches its fangs closer to put me out of my stagnant misery

.

Because the blood tastes more delectable when it’s not my own

As the whores that I corrupted bring my wasted body home

They don’t flinch at the maggots that they suck from my mouth

But they do protest before the chloroform hits their breathing south

No no, it’s not torture, I promise I won’t ever hurt you, my dear

I just wish to lick away all your mingling doubts and puerile fear

But don’t piss yourself, don’t soil your skin, or I’ll be very mad indeed

Behave yourself and stay sweet as hell, or you’ll die before you heed

.

But they caught me revering over one of my masterpiece creations one day

Yelling loud profanities to such beauties, that’s not a very nice thing to say

They dislocated my shoulder just trying to put my artistic hands in cuffs

And took away my beloved artworks, goddamn these useless criticising cops

So that’s how I ended up in here, living and sleeping in a filthy jail cell

With a colossal man who uses me to play every night as if I couldn’t even tell

The food is bland, the nurses laugh, the doctors give me exclusive diseases

The medicine is cheap and expired, putting my mind under heavy poisoned dazes

.

But it’s alright, because the girls I love visit me when no one else is looking

Their breaths may be putrid, their bones may protrude, but I won’t be complaining

And they’re building a rope out of their intestines to help with my grand escape

Don’t worry, I’ll be back to make you feel loved again, so just you patiently wait

They may inject cholera and botulism in me, and force me to see an underpaid shrink

But I won’t be deluded at all, no, as clear as a dark day I can still properly think

I’ll lace my pustule-dotted hands with anthrax and touch them until they’re all dead

Writhing on the floor as I step on their bodies, no one can help these bastards now

.

But for now, insane is all I can ever know, and all this pain feels rather demented

My cheeks slough off, my ears leak brain fluid, yet I feel so divinely elevated

I suffocate on plastic pills and jolt again from the electroshock, shit, it’s such a buzz

As they wring the tears from my broken neck and again I black out with a slurred cuss

So insensible I couldn’t feel the rusted scalpel slicing out my frontal lobe anymore

But I wouldn’t have to count the scratched tally marks shrieking at me on the stone wall

Because when the demon rends another piece from my heart and transfers immortality

Vengeance will be served and heads will roll; this world is damned, so I’ll add a little more beauty.

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Filed under Poetry, Valentines Poetry

Chase Atlantic

For you, I chased down atlantic until it was drained and empty, consuming every last drop, and still, you were thirsty.

Xans, Oxy, gram, adderall, molly, vicodin, ketamine, codeine, amphetamine, heroin, every medication legal and illegal you selfishly overdosed on like it’s the sweetest candy, drugs and money fucking everything up, riding the waves, breathing in the ozone layer and craving the vaporous atmosphere, until all you could hear are birds singing at midnight and all your blank glazed eyes could see where pink shadows coalescing in the basement and the sound of your own synesthetic undersea voice, sewn up into crude stitches before it shatters soundlessly against the restless pastel ghosts; and you find out you were uncomfortably lying on your back in the bedroom floor all along, staring at the unlit ceiling dripping what you thought were your own tears but turned out to be rainwater, dial tone screeching your garbled songs, trying to call nobody at half past four in the morning, worn-down carpet igniting the smoke alarms with your interminable vices. I could only wish to hell that I was there to put it out.

There was a certain elegant delicacy in your tactlessly constructed words, soft beatnik aspersion and aggressive indie slurs romancing and entrancing my chilled spine, humming saxophone amid the alluring amalgamation of incoherent voices intertwining together into a strange, tangible, panicking tranquil. It was an art form in itself, inimitable, one of a kind, scattered accentuation your personal intricate signature. Every careless lilt about the dangerous pseudonymous girls you slept with last night, Angie, Cassie, Roxy, and the pill-popping pharmacists you’ll hold up with a gun as soon as the sun hits tomorrow. All these unsettling courtesies set in three parts of pastel grey and explicit roses, the dalliance and the nostalgia of everything, you were speaking in a foreign language only the truly sick in the head could properly understand, and the way you talked about all the mental pressure and self-esteem and choking anxiety so goddamn beguilingly, the way you talked about addiction as if you weren’t an addiction in itself, the way you just fucking aren’t, it got me overdosing on the panoply panache and sovereign shit on your bedside, but I was so into it.

How many times have you made my pulse beat when it was no longer mine? Every single afternoon, I wake up with a stabbing jolt like a guillotine’s rope pulled tight against my throat, gasping and desiring desperately for more, more of your prevarications. It was a talk show tactic, and you were the host telling me to talk slow and tell no lies, and I was your prize trophy, spilling my secrets and picking my battles cautiously, even though I knew that you were probably lying to me all along. The world was on your shoulders, angels hissing temptations under your skin, and we danced to the beat of your laughter and talked endless miles of film spiels about friends and no friends, gravity and good vibes, church walls and dancing in the dark with the devil, indiscretions and junkie stories high on adrenaline and dopamine, driving too fast and run over by the cops and swimming and thrashing in paradise until we’re so much higher than before, and everything was rhapsodic…until you hit the trigger and got me begging on my bleeding knees again. I’m scratching my nails, shivering madly, abusing my liver, and tearing the veins off my dead-ass heart as you killed my sanity, and baby I was only 23.

I’m obsessive. You said hold your breath, you’ll save me from the fading injections and we’ll run away right here to the underside of the world, and I won’t need to miss you and your anchor tattoo. And fuck it, but I believed all your twisted promises so fervently. I didn’t expect to fall instantaneous victim for such a scrupulous stratagem, this alternative relativity of drugs and parties not my accustomed niche, fucking up this whole thing. I was married to the screaming voices that serenade me everyday and haunt me every night, and I was theirs to render completely deaf into freedom; until you came out of nowhere and divorced me from the nightmares, and you incarcerated me—you made me even worse. You’re a psychopathic fringe wearing a smile on your face and holding a knife in your hand, you’re becoming a work of art. You don’t look too sane when you act like that, and babe, you won’t live too long with a mind like that. I was always fastidious about the taste of serotonin that I place against my lips, but even though it’s fire I’m kissing now, I’ve already been burnt, I fucking have. And I love counting the cigarette stains in my fragile marred skin, sepia-shaded nicotine tattooed permanently between my fingertips, branding me with your whispered name. My parents say I’m crazy, but I only wanna be buried six feet under your bed, ready to meddle about and smoke the cancerous stars away with you anytime. They say be rational about these things, but I stopped being reasonable the moment I listened to your drugstore symphonies and drowned in your cheap perfume. This chemical destruction is beautiful. I’ll keep it up, and I’ll keep riding the waves, crashing into you once more. And why stop at all? Okay is all I know right now. Mama I’m sorry, but reality’s boring.

For you, I’ll chase down atlantic until I’m drained and empty, consuming every last drop, and still, I’ll be thirsty for your eyes.

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Filed under Prose

¡Viva Las Vegas!

A pretty picture but the scenery is so loud
A face like heaven catching lighting in your nightgown
But back away from the water, babe, you might drown
The party isn’t over tonight (lighting in your nightgown)
Hey, where will you be waking up tomorrow morning?
Hey, out the backdoor, goddamn but I love her anyway!

~*~

Don’t wipe off your embalmed makeup just yet

I adore you sweetheart, I’ll kiss you for a bet

Poise and irrationality’s the poison of the victim

A pretty covert movie with the lighting dim

.

Memories of a fading twisted tongue collide

Sophistication sliding off the laudanum side

And all the girls at night are making me sweat

And the boys cheer me with wolf calls of respect

.

Empty bottles of gin, dribbling off your chin

The Vegas lights are burning, all-in, and I win

Snatches of conversations swim past my ears

Saline and formaldehyde of cascading tears

.

So say what you mean, and don’t be afraid

This city is yours, take the applause you paid

It’s history, the avenue and boulevard is lined

And they’re all aching to dissect your mind

.

Every perspective approaches home so near

Nicotine stains, champagne, and stench of fear

Hijack my medal eyes and render me numb

Replace the lens of the camera, pop your gum

.

Forget the nightly cabaret, the burlesque shame

The motel room you rented absolves the blame

Dust away the contrite asbestos off your waistcoat

The caricature masks are ready for the grand show

.

We’re decomposing arrogantly in beautiful quiet messes

Girls dancing in white dresses, formidable men with roses

Foreign deaths alluding veracity, chaotic hurricane storms

Velvet lips sealed under the threat of sin, smiling in scorn

.

This night we will sink so low, so wash me away and drop the anchor

Waltzing along with secret admirers and falling asleep on a stranger

It’s a sensation in Viva Las Vegas, a scandal of grandiloquent galantine

So sit back and drink your daiquiris, you’re in for a surprise of romantic machines.

~*~

Climbing out the back door, didn’t leave a mark
No one knows it’s you, Miss Jackson
Found another victim, but no one’s gonna find
Miss Jackson, Jackson, Jackson…

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Filed under Poetry

Kiss and Tell

A hundred boys and girls

On my fucking list

From the start of A to zed

I’ll tell before I kiss

Every visage a motivation

Blue eyes don’t lie

So judge me for doing shit

I take so I don’t die

I’m proud of these people

Ain’t nothing wrong

And I’ll just block you out

With calming songs

A hundred girls and boys

I adore and respect

But I’m the whore, right?

Fucking deal with it.

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Filed under Poetry

Pretty Girls Don’t Deserve Movie Seats

Tell me what you want until it hurts, I’ll hang myself in lights
And I will glow for you, the colour, oh my god it says you
Spinning on this circus ride, we’re farther than we’ve ever been
Stuck in zero gravity we laugh (I think we’re in over our heads…)

~*~

That rasp in your sweet nothings

Tastes like a glitch in the system

Harmed soul so genuinely poetic

I’m catching your heat by a stem

Palm trees and fireworks colours

No alcohol takes away the effects

Of your fingertips, in dreams sour

I can’t sleep to conjure pink death

Cigarette burns on my wrist sting

The dark sunset behind is glaring

Silver rings intertwined your skin

Your confession was not for a sin

I wish I had someone else willing

To disappear with me, I escaping

In pencil lead grey, floral emotion

Victorian ceilings, high as passion

Pray for pain until it starts to hurt

So fall for me, as I’ll crash for you

Local scenes with a reckless spurt

Southern boys paint their sky blue

Against the monochrome filmstrips

Of a grainy romance noir yacht trip

Plastic props and makeup mayhem

Directing takes in a chaotic tandem

I swear both my martyrs eyes’ll haze

Carry me home to a castle lush gazed

You promised me turbulence or spite

It’s a blessing and a curse, can’t deny

You recognise every smile of the sun

Interplay with constellations on a kite

I’ll be the indigo dawn, spilled as I run

Resolutions on a backseat reel tonight

And under the shadow we will whisper

Exchanged melting hearts soft as butter

Whiskey and sobered, on velvet theatre

As exit signs glowed red like a hangover

Tomorrow, I’ll be too wasted with lights

But oh no, I just don’t care about heaven

And if I have the chance to hang myself

On the moon, for you love I’ll do it again.

~*~

I can’t deny it’s getting worse
Trust me, it’s a blessing and a curse
Call me if you’re crashing, we’ll take turns
Hello, welcome to Southern California
Now go back home!

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Filed under Poetry

Paper Hearts: Scorched

One blot I spilled

Of stale gasoline

Embers it twilled

By cold nicotine

.

Days of acidic futures

Held by shivery hands

Sluggish gold sutures

By girls in the stands

.

A match you spilled

Onto my paper heart

Raging fire it twilled

Turned ash and dust.

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Filed under Poetry