Tag Archives: heart

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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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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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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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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R·A·R·E

Oh honey, just know I think you’re rare

But so do a million pairs of staring eyes

I carved your eternal words on my skin

While their dirty desks are filled with lies

.

But I’ll ignore the protests of my chest

I was your worst, but you were my best

Convulsions staunched won’t be enough

To revive my suppressed detesting to last

.

So let me be your only saving grace notion

Under conflagration, in epileptic inspiration

I’ll be your rage, you’ll be my perfect disease

Cure my unclung heartstrings from mercenaries

.

That vain to steal the gold rush in your tongue

And leave the staccato pain where it all began

You’re staling breath my lungs sought to keep

I can exhale underwater if my onyx skies need

.

A drop of fragile storm, if your drought doesn’t break

And I’ll listen to your soft melodies just to stay awake

They’re all florid sycophants, ostentatious in clamours

They may casually admire, but I would eternally adore

.

Because darling, I always think you’re the rarest of them all

And a million pairs of eyes might look but they’ll never know

How, in this peripheral passion, how bruised and cursed I’d fall

Just to reach the light that you hold, I’ll always stay while they all go.

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Emergency Call

I saw you move from across the room
I knew who you were
You act like you are afraid of who you are
I’m afraid for you…

~*~

I don’t want to be here

Constantly begging to be saved

By the hearts that don’t care

If my tongue is set on fire

.

Unsettled and reduced to hiding

Counting every line obscured

In the hopes that maybe this time,

I don’t have to hurt anymore

.

I don’t want to look inside

I don’t want to see myself again

And see nothing else but nothing

I don’t believe in anything else

.

I don’t want to ask stupidly again

And receive stares for an answer

It’s not like me to be fully aware

I’m better off lost, staying quiet

.

I don’t want to be here

Constantly saving to be begged

By the hearts that never cared

If my hands are set on fire

.

Unnerved and reduced to nooks

Creating every line unveiled

In the hopes that maybe this time,

It would hurt just a little more.

~*~

I can save you
If you ask me, just ask me to
There’s hope for you tonight
I can save you
If you ask me, just ask me to
I can save your life…

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Pockets With Holes

‘Cause I’ve broken bones for you
And for you only
I make money but we just can’t
Keep this home…

~*~

i don’t ever want

the world to fall apart

just because of avaricious eyes

begging for fool’s gold

i’ll burn all the money i have

and let my house collapse

into a decrepit debris

if that means i could keep you

because this isn’t all about

shiny pennies and diamonds

that we try to mine under our flesh

and yet only unearth coal

this is about all those prospects

we threw to the faraway moon

how our unfortunate fates

aren’t spun into twisted infinity signs

yes, our mouths may be empty

but it doesn’t mean our hearts have to be

so set your faith past obscuring greed

and cease bleeding for the sake of worthless riches.

~*~

Give me your heart
And your hand
And we can run
(You’re my hope)…

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What’s Wrong?

Lied faceless identities and lost nameless bones

Broken mirrors romancing with concrete stones

Low voices muttering in the middle of the night

Back against the wall, turned under black lights

Standing in the midst of destruction that rebirths

Sacrificing sanctity for the sake of scars to revert

.

I will be what’s wrong with the world.

.

A hundred metaphors deleted in boldface type

Swearing for the shadows, cursing lack of spite

For no one envisions a future with personal ties

Because tongues can only soar out when they lie

An arsenal of armory, walls built to keep them out

Convinced by the paranoia and mitigated by doubt

.

I will be what’s wrong with the world.

.

So call out the name that’s censored in every news station

Immortalised only in faded graffiti and youthful separation

So seek on and find now what can only be seen by the blind

To a place where wrong is right, and the heart beats the mind

I won’t be the marching guide, the black parade you’ll follow

But in a reality of common opposites and moral contradictions, I know

.

I am what’s wrong with the world.

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amor infirmum

is it my sin

to possess the

only inconvenience

that reveres within

the acrid chambers

of my uncloying heart

creating devastation

with each sacrificed

detonating beat?

.

and is it my sin

to have basked in

the tantamount pains

and pure fulfillment from

which it absconds in

trite outbursts, yet when

all one can observe is

a dilettante vindication?

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luna cielo

for there never was

and never will be

a finer vagrant soul

to poetically allude me

than the billows of notes

that fall from your shade

and the stars in your lips

to sing a thousand serenades

dear, if only i could compose

about all my woeful throes

in lights enchanting as yours

no word a wasted recourse

and the aesthete that lies

beneath restless amber eyes

will dream up a promise

for fallen eternity’s premise

where the universe spins

as relentless time should be

and no whispers of parallels

between the lines of you and me

i’m quite dizzy from the sun again

but i’ll close my hands, count to ten

and wait against such fragile hope

that you’re the sunrise to decode

so why do i weep, ever still?

in the midst of my bedroom floor

only bare remnants remain, until

a voice paints a distant nevermore

of faithless keep, an endless rue

tomorrow’s heart, nor i nor you

southern nights, quaint afterglow

the days pass on as we’ll quietly go

i may be weary, yet do not think

i’ll give up when i’m on the brink

let’s chase the wind, and we’ll ascend

to an everlasting paradise we can spend

for there never was and never will be

a finer valiant soul to poetically allure me

than the muse of the moon and billowing notes

that fall from your shade and the stars that you wrote.

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