Tag Archives: hurt

Erethism

i am tethered to my sickness—

brain worms and implacable affinity

soil and blood like strings on

careful fingers, knitting precariously

the loose ends, every alteration

another implication, pull hard enough

and i am tightly bound to peril

deeply fused into your liquid mercury

insensate though that may be

unliberated; as my mind is a metal can

rust and decay so effervescent

an empty clanking of unlinked adages

circulating alluvial expectations

throughout all of my weeping nerves

and stillness, if i were still able

pain could only wake me for so long

before attachment becomes a

blunted weapon, and your infection, my

bereaved maladaptive paradise.

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Expulsion, Repulsion

I bow before the

Ivory cistern

It is my deity

It shall accept my

Grotesque offering

Lights dimmed

And the ritual

Thus begins

Slowly, hands poised

Carefully, mouth

Gaping wide open

Trickling waterfall to

Hide all the

inhuman prayers

Passing through my

Throat, along with

Whatever else

One try, two tries, three

Rigid flesh heaving

Body shaking

Knees buckling

Trying to keep myself

Together enough

To tear myself apart

Undecipherable chunks

Fluids falling

A constant stream of

Involuntary tears

But—begat me

It’s too little, too little

For too much

Poor performance

Unsatisfactory

Pathetic—

Yet why, oh why does

Everything just

Fucking hurt all the

Very same?

Losing track of life

Almost half an hour has

Since passed

And my lungs could

Take no more

Begging for some repose

But it needs more

More more more more

So little so less

So full of shit

So full of me

It wasn’t enough but

Maybe it has

To suffice for now

Please, I hope

Slow down

Troubled breaths

Catching up

Though not quite the

First attempt

It never does get

Easy with every usual try

Metallic water drips

To wash away

The transgression

The evidence

The guilt

Leaving me with

A happy daze and

Messy shirts

And stomachaches

To last for days

But that’s okay

The ivory god is forgiving

And welcoming as

It is cold, and

I’ll always be fighting

Against temptation

And failing

And slipping

And cracking under

Pressure, and

When I’ll do

Rest assured I’ll

Be atoning

Pleading within this

Porcelain temple

Waiting for

Another unholy dying

Making amends

Saving my shrinking spine

And trying to be fine

Until the next time.

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Cardiomyopathy

you maniac heart, you

catatonia

throbbing enamel and

philophobia

bleeding uranium, you

arrogant soul

you destitute malady

skinless goal

now lie in hospice, you

anosognosia

autonomy wanting and

open hematoma

.

you maniac heart, you

cryptophasia

nerve damage done and

agliophilia

transmitting a fever, you

capricious role

you diabolic attraction

apoplectic hole

now die in humours, you

necromancer

cryptic temperament and

heuristic answer

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echolocation

PicsArt_05-20-06.06.20

i found a blister

on the underside of

my tongue, just

trying to talk to you

today—it’s better

left alone but sometimes

my teeth click against

it and it emits a little

hissing echo, like a

cloud of incensed bats

flying out of their damp cave

to finally face the sun

and burn their flesh

dwellings and night vision

impaired for another

sleight of sudden death

i wonder if this blister

will ever heal, even after all

the times i rubbed it raw

and when it does, and

when daylight no longer stings—

what else will be left

in me to h u r t ?

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klutz

clumsy

i’m so clumsy

i’m so full of

gasoline, and

stupider still as

i let you in

i let you win

and i let the

phosphate feel

like loving

when you sing

when you sting

i found it too

fascinating

one more strike

before you begin

and you’re clumsy

oh, so clumsy

you’re so full of

broken things

and when i burned

i never knew

that i’d also become

a part of them.

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lágrima

i cried

for the first

time in a

long time

today, and

.

the tears

are not for

me, they are

meant for

someone else

.

and the

sadness is

not mine,

only my lack

of control

.

towards them—

i wept, and it hurt,

but i could only

imagine how much

worse it was for you.

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Peripheral Vision

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What a stubborn thought; to be loved, to be lost, to be loathed.

My initial mistake was to get myself foolishly caught up in the former instance, without carefully considering the ulterior consequences of my despicably reckless actions. I dived headfirst without peering in to see if there was a tangible ocean beneath me, and cried out in regret when my body got viciously torn apart by the jagged rocks awaiting below.

But, what else could I have done? And what else should I have not? I could spend my entire life painstakingly sifting through the showering grains of the hourglass, attempting to find a diamond until time runs out; or I could simply let the sand fall away to its own accord as I willingly hold out my roughened hands below—hurting, helping, hoping. The unfortunate namesake “human” is deeply threaded through my innocent nerves, shutting out the callous pessimism which only seeks to permanently cease my blood circulation; still withering against the gentler stings of anguish.

Though I have slowly faded out most of my past anamnesis, all of their phantasmic chimeras are still somehow luminously vigilant, almost even barbarous in its unremitting pursuit to frivolously preserve my already-squandered youth. Yet I suppose, no matter…no matter. For now, you are the overgrown wildflower field lulling my tired providence to rest, under fluid stars and unplucked scars and quavering sympathy—the only thankless relapse fully able to keep me awake for multiple infinitudes every twilight’s eve.

What a stubborn thought; to be loathed, to be lost, to be loved by you.

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Filed under Prose

regenerate

Every time I think about your voice
I start to tremble, and my heart’s aching
And anytime you need a shoulder, I’m right there
You just gotta find a way, a way…

~*~

it’s been over

a year, and all

my insides have

turned bright blue

.

coldly choking

and churning at

the constant lie

to pull me through

.

it’s been over

a year, and yet

my insides don’t

feel brand new

.

still spitting

and screaming

“damn it, why did

it have to be you?”

~*~

You scream ‘don’t look’
You scream ‘don’t touch’
What have they done?
What have I not?

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Saudade

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my source of discomfort stems from sweeter apathy,

the one that subtly shifts behind frayed sweaters and

bubbles up from under clogged drains; the kitchen sink

is stained with petrified rose petals, your disinfectant love

creeps like cold chlorine under my tongue, and your kisses

taste like taking a deep breath under a swimming pool

but i don’t know why i cough up sea salt in my lungs

and the sand gets in my eyes and my fingernails, the

irritating grit keeps me vainly scratching all throughout

the night. you don’t seem to mind, for you have the covers

wrapped tightly around your body like a quilted cocoon, and

there’s a steady rhythm humming beneath the sweaty pillows;

of oxygen, and slowing pulse, and being unable to dream

while i dream up enough nightmares for the both of us

and the noisy skeletons in our padlocked closet. nobody’s

around to witness me jumping to conclusions, just an

inch of mattress that translates to transcontinental throes

you are so impossibly distant, whilst i quietly sit in the same

chair by the jammed window for hours and let myself wander—

perhaps i might chance upon a fairy tale place where home

feels like home, and not simply another temporary kingdom to lose

your keys; and where you are no longer a strange extraordinary metaphor

but rather, just a tiring contrary cliché that i’ll be more than glad to call my own.

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Jouska (pointless monologue)

Closed doors, locked in, no keys
Keeping my feelings hidden
There is no ease, I need it to stop
And I want to be able to open up but
My feelings are fatal…

~*~

This much, I know, we will never be alone together.

I couldn’t ever bring myself to attempt to catch up

With you; quietly fearing this trembling uncertainty of

Completely tiring myself down with the futile chase

Only to find out that I arrived in dead-set last place,

So I’ll just allow you to leave me behind instead, as it is.

It just feels like the more happiness you’re getting,

The less of you I could have for myself—and though

I can’t and won’t deprive you of the things you’ve fully

Well deserved for a long time, I also can’t stop

Myself from being such a selfish machine, stupidly

Begging for something far beyond my taut reach,

Inadvertently trapping myself and wailing in anguish

When I have to chew at my own leg just to get out of it—

I just can’t stop myself from giving a damn about you.

But I guess that’s fine. You will never find me out anyway, and

Even if short-lived and shortsighted, I still dearly cherish

What little euphoric glimpses I had of your attention, even

If it meant nothing, I only wish nothing but the very best for you,

And I could only hope that this teaches me a final lesson;

One last acrid pill to swallow, hope I don’t choke this time,

No more. I could only ever endure too much. Please. Not anymore.

The more you feel alive, the more I slowly wither away inside,

But I couldn’t hate you for that. I could never hate you at all…

It’s not your fault I keep fucking losing control of myself.

~*~

How many times must I keep it inside
I need to let go and I swear that I’ve tried
But opening up means trusting others
And that’s just too much, I don’t want to bother
So I’ll keep it inside and bury it deep
I know it’s not healthy, but you won’t hear a peep…

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