Tag Archives: hurt

Ocean Promenades and Transatlantic Daydreams

You’ve gone and sewn me to this bed
The taste of you and me
Will never leave my lips again
Under the blinding rain
I wanna hold your hand so tight
I’m gonna break my wrist
And when the vultures sing tonight
I’m gonna join right in…

~*~

Between you and me

There’s no distance in the middle

The cold war has restarted

So let’s try to be civil

A legal murder;

That’s what you really are

With a smile that can save the

World all on its own

I grit my teeth because that’s

All I can do to just keep holding on

The smoke collides in the sky

Like decanted white wine in a movie

But no one is watching

And nobody’s ending is to die

The walls of this house are paper thin

But so is my pallid skin

I wonder if stars choose to cling to my eyes

And where all their lies begin

I need someone to keep me from

Swallowing a bottle of pills amassed

As I kept the orange lid on

And chewed on the painted glass

You didn’t even try to stop me

From counting days off my chipped nails

And burying my reflection

Your finger is falling off the scale

I fractured my funny bone

As you dragged my ankles in the rain

Maybe I’ve had known my synthetic home

Instead all I have is a lipstick stain

My tears are a suicide silence

Of those evenings I spent swearing that I’ll

Call your paradise up in the morning

Even if it might take me a while

I’d count the salt of the earth

And turn it into sugar on your tongue

I may be out of bounds

But I wasn’t the thief who sold your sun

So say it’s all a criminal act

These handcuffs are killing my wrists

Digging into my scar tissues

As scarred as your haunting lips

The tactless tactics taken

Your elegant eloquences forsaken

Tortured clocks tick the past

It wasn’t meant to last

Another song of bruised dreams

I wanna hold your hand so fucking tight

Your bones will feel my veins scream

And my knuckles will bleed out into the night

Maybe another vodka shot

Will change things, or make it worse

As I threw a boulder on your bedroom window

To tell you I won’t be late for your hearse

It’s a screwed-up mentality

Like kissing a glock gun before I sleep

To trade tranquility for a stranger

And voluntarily fall inside his oceans deep

But just between you and me

I’m already drenched away and sickly

And there’s no place I’d rather drown myself in

Than your empty sea.

~*~

I’ll sing along, cause I don’t know any other song
I’ll sing along, but I’m barely hanging on
No, I’m barely hanging on, by the time you’re hearing this
I’ll already be gone; and now there’s nothing to do
But tear my voice apart…

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I Collect Knives For A Living, What About You?

Did you think that this was all an excuse for
Hospitality, I know you think its all because of me
At first glance, I’ll breathe in
Leaving myself no room to move, at all
My mind is so flooded and I’m drunk with regret…

~*~

The tastes of stale regret and naphthalene

Another back turned on the open doorway

Fingers doused in iodine, alcohol, chlorine

Waiting for the pain to settle down, replay

.

Rusty crowbar flirting with the windowsill

These corroded wrists haven’t had their fill

Punctures arresting moments of a contrition

Skins embalmed, synthetic human condition

.

Swirling pastel watercolours and paint thinner

Interpreting artistic gashes, mixing all together

Cobalt strings, a neon glower of vermilion stars

Punishing priorities, daggers and guns on a war

.

Consuming traitor thiamine and betrayal’s booze

The reverse of a fraud, there’s nothing left to lose

A ventriloquist’s windpipe running out of oxygen

Nauseating disorientation, from a stagnant anacin

.

Lifelines tied to sycamore trees, carved ink indelible

But the oaths made by shedding blood can be soluble

Viscera in peril, executing a resentment due fortnight

I’m provoking hospital emergencies or flashing lights

.

Self-sabotage and mutual mutinies, fractured pinky promises

Wayward ethos revolting, a temper testament, trading curses

A compromised compulsion, haldol in hazardous momentum

Meaningless psychosis, mangled liar’s baptism in moratorium.

~*~

A fake, a fraud, forked tongue and I am nervous
At least I can say I made it out this time
I am just fine where you have left me
As for you be sure to cover up your mouth
I don’t know how to say this, my thoughts have just run out…

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Scarlet Ribbons

Gilded scarlet ribbons

Cascading past my arms

Colliding with azure threads

Entangling in sick charms

Gilded scarlet ribbons

Trailing throughout my wrists

Ropes of tinsel green envy

Lattices of silver in skins of wist.

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Matrix of Marks

Headline scars

Beating the bruise

Hatchets running

From fleshy recluse

Imitated wounds

An elegiac solace

A deviating pledge

Blades left in carnage.

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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.

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metal & skin (xxiv.)

one cut

a weaker beginning, but you’re just starting

three cuts

that’s the charm, as searing pain is settling

five cuts

is that all you can take? is that all you can take?

seven cuts

how much, how much more can you make?

ten cuts

easy, over, and out, it’s like riding a bike now

fifteen cuts

it’s all a distant, tranquilising blur somehow

twenty cuts

you have reached your own personal record

twenty-two cuts

and went past it; dare you break the accord?

twenty-six cuts

it’s a complete mess of blood and medicine

thirty cuts

too numb to give a fuck, you ceased caring

thirty-three cuts

your arm’s as pale as your cotton blanket

thirty-eight cuts

maybe you’ve crossed the line, but screw it

forty cuts

so indulged, and you just can’t fucking stop

forty-four cuts

because you know it will never be enough

forty-nine cuts

for it’s not really the quantity that matters

fifty cuts

but just how fucking far you dare to go deeper.

fifty-one cuts and counting…

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blood on my hands

Watched you bite into the bottle
Watched me kick out the chair
Let you chew up the glass
And laughed as you just hung there…

~*~

attacking

the white walls

’til my shivery

senseless knuckles

blossom into

myriad riots of

heliotrope and scarlet,

painting my fist

with burgundy blots

and cacophonic

screams of potent

mercilessness

splattering the

wall with brutality

and upset red

and an anger that’s

feeding on the migraine

at the back of my

artery-bursting temple

harsh primal senses

overtaking all of

my rationality

the adrenaline nearly

stopping my heart,

nothing but blind fury

exhausted from all sides

of this violence

i can see your face

on the goddamn wall

i don’t want to stop trying

to knock some sense

into your hallucination

of your childish disillusion

for every time

skin kisses asphalt

and soft collides with solid

it’s a tally of just how

fucking stupid you are.

i’ll keep on punching

and seething and pounding

and tearing flesh,

hoping that soon enough

one of us will just stop

trying to be a masochistic

fucker and cease such

useless punishment

and i only pray

that it will happen

all before the lusting metal

reaches your strung vein

and snaps it in half

turning the blood on my

hands into more than

just a literal connotation;

or before the grinding concrete

reaches my fragile bones

and breaks it apart

turning the damage into

more than just

a wall.

~*~

I lost my head
You couldn’t come
This lust to my brain
Almost feels like a gun…

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painted remorse

it’s the guilt

of painting it

as inevitable

and a revelation,

no warnings of

its tangibility

clearing paths

for inspiration

and it’s remorse

for letting the

child touch it

despite a sign

saying otherwise

and letting the

paint stain her

fingers with lies.

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heartburn

We see you laugh, we see you dance
We take that away every day
We see you cry, we turn your head
Then we slap your face…

~*~

dive around

and let sympathy

sugarcoat your

vile tongue

as if your flesh

wasn’t already

repulsive and

bleeding through

your sleeves.

disappointment

slinging stones

at the back of

your throat,

hoping you’ll

lose breath

on rough gravel

and cough out

silver bruises,

falling mercury

as your lips

collapse around

invisible shadows,

deformed and

ill-percepted.

you slow your steps

and put one foot

in front of the other

unsteady, cautious,

hoping that each day

brings less hell,

but letting numbness

embrace the cold

muscle between

your flat lungs,

incarcerated between

your broken ribcage

so you don’t ever

have to feel the

searing imminent flames

shredding all of your

hope.

~*~

We see you try, we see you fail
Some things never change
We hear you cry, we hear you wail
We steal that smile from your face…

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scarstruck

darling,

the brevity

of these scars

dissent us

under swains

of scorn

if the bruises

were to permeate

i’ll fade it

so you won’t be

forlorn.

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