Tag Archives: idk what this is even

The Game Played Right

Is there anyone who can make me see?
Help me breathe
Is there anyone who can make me feel alive inside?
Sink or swim is all I know tonight
Well take me to the bed, it feels so right
Wake me up…

~*~

I keep on lying. The silent pieces remain unapologetically in my lips, melting and melding together and apart, clashing like shades of blue and gold, until my smiles are mutated and my bated tongue is in shreds. Fear is an embrace I’ve learned to take upon myself, selling myself short to it, buying away the final remaining original thoughts I’ve slaved over in myriad sleepless nights until I’m a-la carte. Change is to blame for the causeless effect, and I’m asking for more from what can’t be taken away from me, cutting corners and targeting the contrition with a bolted gun, as if that would solve my problem. Would that open the deadlocked box of hope, containing those transient reminiscences of what used to be faith, keeping my wrists from giving itself up to bladed handcuffs and abrading ropes?

No, because it’s been open all this time. I’m merely pretending that it’s fully out of grasp, stuffing the sunshine in a pocket with a hole, then feigning remorseful surprise when I grasp the cloth and fail to feel its reassuring outline. I won’t get away, just as the moon can’t break away from its cruel mistress, no matter how hard it tries. Dependence requires sustenance, never mind if one’s getting hurt, never mind if one’s just wasting time and lightyears, never mind that there’s someone who sucks on the cigarette and there’s one who gets snuffed out in the ashes of its former companions, and both are slowly dying with each harmful, addicting, nicotine drag. Perhaps it’s better to move on, burn my house down with the lighter, and stab a flag on top of a desolate mountain, letting the frigid Arctic breeze pierce my lungs, reminding me that I’m dead inside, day by day, every single night.

Yes, the truth hurts worst when you’re lying on your back in a hollowly-carved bed, watching the tick of the sagging clock draw frowns on your dripping beige ceiling, the crude notches on the bedpost your only substitute for a calendar, not even the gathering dust on your windowsill keeping track of your blunt existence, but is that really such a bad plotline to read into? After all, I’m a mere instrument of conflict, and if I do not fulfill my function, I have no point, and dull instruments are of no use to anyone but the junkyard. So, what’s the point but pointlessness? What is there to release from arrogance, from selfishness, from egocentric human needs and desires, shallowness sucking away the will to speak in freedom, constantly starving for lust and lusting for starvation and dying from either loneliness or hunger in the end?

Give me that. Give me an answer that would morph my vulgar counterfeit laughter back into a purely genuine jubilance, give me a reply that would wash away the contracting fallacies in my conflicted mind and make my craving lecherous soul finally taste the decadent truth, give me a statement to swim in and sink under as I ponder deeply upon it and spend all my cashed-in stars to figure it out until I may finally repose in peace, give me an oratorical rhetoric that would drag me out of the hands of the angels in the ambulance and shock my heart into sinus rhythm, give me something, anything at all that would set this hellish perpetual carousel in a dead jolting halt and wouldn’t throw me off the cutthroat ride, give me—give me what I want. Yet, is what I want really what I need?

Never. Because in this reality, the parallel cruelty prevents any chance of a perfect alignment or even a destined intersection between any limits, and it’s all we can do to keep walking in the thin line and keep a painful positiveness, because backtracking to the negatives would devour us whole, render us irrational, and count us as impossible. Yet, despite knowing all of those and sharing such meaningless contrivances to the eyes that refuse to perceive and the ears that refuse to listen, I still want you to lie to me. Lie to me until your lips are mutated and your bated tongue is in shreds, lie, lie, lie, until the wrong turns right, until forward becomes backwards, until the truth is the ultimate lie, and I’ll gladly do the same to you. After all, we’re just doing what we need to do. We’re just doing all we can do.

~*~

These self inviting auras
Made me bring out the sun
Your body’s played its role
It’s ruined my game
And now I can’t believe I’ve done it
But somehow I still feel
But I still feel, so far gone…

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Filed under Prose

letters to s.d.: final fragment #8 {postscript}

Sent: June 28, 2017
Received: August 19, 2017

.

[REDACTED]c, p[REDACTED]re fucking for[REDACTED]le m[REDACTED]e.

.

i failed you.

i thought i could win

but i just let override me

i let it bite my skin

i let it numb and desensitise me

i can’t look you in the eye

as you tell me i’m at my best

but i look at your scars

and it feels like a stab in the chest

if you can, then i can too

but fuck, guess we’re both wrong

despite all my attempts

despite all your painless songs

save the time, as i’m falling

so goddamn stop me

but you can’t help anymore

it’s not like the way it used to be

this was…all for you

all for you alone, all this time

and aren’t i so selfless

to pay you with my crimes?

i remember that you always say

“darlin’, you’ll okay”

and i want so badly to believe

but i have a short breaking point

and this is all i can give

the choice is mine for the taking

what’s another funeral wake?

i’ve gone in far too deep in

and  i’m left with vanished stars

so i can only pick the best

and if i die, i can finally awaken

i’m a coward, i know

but you don’t have to be

struck with contrition for a

guileless naïve stranger

hell, i’m never strong enough

to overpower my own foolish self

that much, at least, is true

no, i’m just not fucking strong enough

f     o     r        y     o     u.

i’m so sorry, s.d.

.

but before i say goodbye permanently, i would like to confess that you’r[CONTENT MISSING]

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Filed under Poetry

Lemonade, Licorice

Lemonade, licorice

Make me a promise

Of stars and sunlight

And neverland night

.

Lemonade, licorice

Make me a promise

Of candy and kisses

And maiden misses

.

Lemonade, licorice

Make me a promise

In daisies and decay

And cloud-floss clay

.

Lemonade, licorice

Make me a promise

For twists and tears

And floral-blue fear

.

Lemonade, licorice

Make me a promise

In bittersweet taste

May we never fade.

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Space Repose

It means nothing that the stars keep staring

Infinite sounds of galactic hymnal menacing

Knocking on the doors of a supernova home

Under black holes and leptons, lonely I roam

Planets stumbling, rings blot out of existence

Forgotten will-o-wisps glimmer with presence

I’ll sleep soundly on a constellation hammock

Let lights guide my dreams to universes amok.

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Filed under Poetry