Tag Archives: gone

Maybe If You Were A Little Nicer (And Whined A Lot Less)

Your clothes and your motions, they caught my eye
It’s no disguise what you want from me
Your humor, the bait for a trap so contrived
It’s no surprise what you want from me—
Your perfume scent, the lies I’ll admit
Just more evident what you want from me…

~*~

Save the best

For your worst boy

‘Cause he’s such a charm

And I’m just your

Filthy little chew toy

Making you feel annoyed

Caught right up in your molars

And I’m willing just to

Take this too far

So pick me up and

Pick me out, bleeding

Gums and toothpick wit

Make you smile but

Without grit, but I’ll never

Give you bullshit

Like you did

When you bleached your

Self-esteem, just to

Make it look like all of the

Soulless models posing

On your cheap TV

Hoping that come January

You’ll be playing all their games

Making out with bigger names

But if not, at least you still

Have me to blame

Kissing me up and down before

You cash in my suffering

‘Cause I was just your

High shortcoming

Next to your no-good dad

And being nothing

Why are you so scared of living

When you haven’t done

A single fucking thing?

But hey, don’t let me

Be the barrier

A naysayer without fervour

Because my ambitions

Also felt the weight

When you decided that

I was never worth the wait

And I’m still saving the worst

For your greatest fall

I’ve crossed the line

So taste my beck and call

And I’m saving myself

Screw your best boy

I’ll break in your plastic decoy

Even if I’ll be destroyed

‘Cause I can’t wait to stop

This pretentious jersey drama act

And when all’s said and done

And gone, well

I won’t be annoyed

No, I won’t be the one still

Waiting on to be your

Ken doll fucking chew toy.

~*~

The right recipe but the wrong target
You’ll never get what you want from me
Got no quarters in my pocket
There’s no change to play your game
Your jokes aren’t funny anymore to me
I’m not the same fool that I used to be…

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Deathwatch

There’s no point in hiding the truth from a freak

She let her arms swell as he took a big bite, let it stick

So that the vessel ropes he could find a little easier

And all that remains would mean nothing else to her

.

Does it hurt this much to be okay? Am I all that will be gone?

Her questions were relentless, and his curt answers stung

All he could tell was that blood’s quite softer than water

And clorox swirls down the drain just a little bit slower

.

Don’t find me out yet, I’m still purging all of my guilt

Grey is just something when all these pills taste like filth

Her stomach emptied as his was filled, one more for the road

But pray don’t slip on the wet tiles, though comfortingly cold

.

Get out of that fucking phase! Are you just dying for style?

Well, I love you too mother dearest, you won’t be yelling for a while

An attention seeking bitch, just can’t be more like the others

You’re only ever good with your head submerged underwater

.

And so what if I am? Why, would I look bad in your final will?

Her spite crammed the walls and the shadows were thrilled

He stayed silent, quite cautious, let the anger be his chance

If it’s only to prove your point to me, then I know my own stance

.

Teethmarks stuck vicariously to the mould like their grotesque signature

His embrace was eternally automatic, and she was just a friendly reminder

Because really, what was the point? We’re just a bunch of deadweight freaks

But she made sure to stick out her arms and wear the truth on her sleeve.

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Paternoster

I still look for you

In suffocating temples

Within the faith I lost

And in mindless rituals

.

Mumbled promises

The kind I couldn’t keep

Memories that grow

More distant as I sleep

.

I still look for you

When the pangs cut through

All the could-have-beens

Just a name they never knew

.

Maybe there’s an afterlife

And maybe I’ll turn out okay

Memories will stay with us

Even if you’re long gone away.

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sadder days

Dirty fingernails, same as your mind
But he can strum the guitar just fine
Every now and then he’d think about his life
Daydreaming just to pass the time…

~*~

today

is one of

those sad days

sadder days

morning grey

feels eclipsed

a ghost in

the window

blocking sunlight

reaching out

impalpable

sadness?

you dream

my darling, of

perhaps life

as you know it

or perhaps

nothing at all

as i pen eulogies

to my name

woe is me, my

dreams have

not been kind

they never were

but i hope

love, that yours

flourishes into

more than

sweet cosmos

and forget-me-nots

and the colour of

lilac i painted

your lips with

a pale afterglow

a subtle adoration

love, pure love

i hope all your

dreams visit you

not only when

you repose

and may they

never fall away

like, i ponder,

all those whose

footsteps have

faded from familiar

halls, missing

from freckles and

constellations

searching

for better days

or bitter days

or both—

they’ll be gone soon

but so will i

and so will you

and so will all

these sad days be

i only wonder

what time brings

for you and me

tomorrow

~*~

Now the sun is closer than it was before
Anyone who’s anyone can feel it
Saturdays are not the same as they used to be
Sadder days, why do they keep on using me?

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long gone

i swear,

it’s not the

same paradise

safe to say

that i won’t be

safe to forget

.

until you leave

my rusty nerves

and steal back

the soft bruises

you created from

broken planets

.

i swear,

it’s all fine

until you quickly

stand up just

to give me more

reasons to trip

.

but i know

i cannot have

anything else

anyway—i guess

that you’re my

only deathwish.

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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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Wrong Weekend

03.10.18. Saturday, 3:02 AM. Manhattan, New York.


He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes
Started making his way past 2 in the morning
He hasn’t been sober for days
Leaning now into the breeze
Remembering Sunday, he falls to his knees…


It’s three in the morning when I lock my heart behind the closet doors

And then I take another drink so I could forget what it was fighting for

Everything is louder when the sounds of a life once held are long gone

I’m crashing and cresting like the tidal waves of this bathroom tantrum

I’m looking for someone that has disappeared from newspaper tragedies

Hey mister, have you seen this person in the photo that was never taken?

It’s another hazy day wasted, but I guess I’ll go home just to burn it down

Write a song on my six-stringed guitar, and I wonder where you are again.


Forgive me, I’m trying to find
My calling, I’m calling at night
I don’t mean to be a bother
But have you seen this girl?
She’s been running through my dreams
And it’s driving me crazy, it seems…



07.16.18. Saturday, 3:57 AM. Manchester, England.


I’m not coming back (forgive me)
I’ve done something so terrible
I’m terrified to speak (I’m not calling, I’m not calling)
But you’d expect that from me
I’m mixed up, I’ll be blunt, now the rain is just…


It’s three in the morning when I put on my coat and slipped past the doors

After an evening of drinks so I could forget that I’m even fighting anymore

Everything is louder when the sounds of a life once held begins to fall apart

I’m collapsing and colliding just trying to get you out of that bathroom stunt

I’m losing myself and slowly disappearing under a pile of newspaper eulogies

Hey miss, can we delete ourselves, to pretend that this photo was never taken?

It’s another hazy day spent, so I guess I’ll go home in a place where I don’t burn

Right by the six-windowed room, and I won’t ever wonder where you are again.


You’re driving me crazy, I’m—
Washing you out of my hair and out of my mind
Keeping an eye on the world, from so many thousands
Of feet off the ground, I’m over you now
I’m at home in the clouds, and towering over your head
Well I guess I’ll go home now. I guess I’ll go home…


 

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a self-portrait painted on anaheim landscapes

I did what I do best, forgot myself
Got overdressed like everybody else
A glance and a half smile
Black heels on the white tile
It took seven years for your path to realign…

~*~

i am made of torn skin

and overplayed stereo songs

and a million miles to cali

and washed-out daydream colours

i’m lost; some would say gone

and my stares are silent dynamite

i remember what i throw away

again my tongue detonates

and i’m searching for meaning

in a world that’s as meaningless

as a crude april first joke

and not in the least bit funny

but i’ll keep on looking anyway

and maybe it will make sense

in some parallel universe someday

where time doesn’t wear my skin

and songs never sound the same

and cali’s just a tiptoe and half away

and the daydream never fades.

~*~

Gone, doesn’t it feel good to be invisible?
Gone, just like the way I used to be
Gone, have I been fading away?
Yeah, I’m so gone, gone…

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six days of a kingdom’s downfall; excluding the sabbatical

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Calvary choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can’t explain
I know Saint Peter won’t call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world…

~*~

i.

a carnation affectation

a wilted dahlia efflorescent

in the temple about to fall—

ii.

redemption in the fray

a sovereign right surrendered

a prayer lost to the demons.

iii.

who would i be if i failed

these chevalier discrepancies

and gave to defeat my all?

iv.

‘tis nothing but a feint allusion

a fiery sleight of hand with which

even archangels cannot summon…

v.

night cries; a knight is interred,

remains scattered to eventide mourn

and ashes buried under dungeons.

vi.

baleful messengers cease to return

as the crown is abandoned in rusted thrones

towers and castles—and a legacy long gone.

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eau de cologne

swathes of perfume—

a familiar scent in the storm

bewildered by wonders

and shadows on the dictaphone

renegade tears; again

they surround charlatan hearts

in sounds of scissor envy

the wineglass is fermented sour…

time vanishes into aether.

the threadbare tale of old lovers

bloom on daybreak scorch

akin to an elaborate kaleidoscope

incinerating infinite galaxies.

your anarchy is no longer ghastly

and the oasis of the cityscape

blinks out in a mosaic, one by one

as i quell my febrile miasma

and twist sullen on my empty bed

your form outline is long gone—

but your lingering fragrance remains.

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