Tag Archives: ignore

blabber

you ruin

every good

secret i have

but i try to

ignore it

.

it’s better to

just grit my teeth

than to let you

bite back with

your half-wit.

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animus

i implore

myself

to turn the

other cheek

and ignore

.

but there’s

just too

much of you

to take in

and adore.

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Skin and Thorn

Skinny girl

With skinny veins

Hungry flesh

And starving blood

.

Feed herself

Cold air and warm metal

Prickly as a thorn

Delicate as a lily petal

.

Skinny girl

With skinny veins

Ignore the need

Crave for the pain

.

Dried-out heart

“She’s sick in the head”

At least she looks pretty

Lying in her velvet bed.

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all hands (around my throat)

This is strange as hell to me
To say out loud it’s happening
What a powerless weight I am feeling
Oh, I’m fighting for a fate so fleeting…

~*~

i’m crossing

lines that

i didn’t know

were there,

taking the

last word in

an endless

argument that

never even began,

and tasting the

chagrin in a

flavourless

tongue.

i danced with

the devil once

and now i’m

struck by love,

no love for

this insanity,

no love for

myself at all—

nothing even

matters anymore.

i blame myself

for what i

didn’t do, for

what i couldn’t

have helped,

blame myself

for what they said

because it’s

easier that way.

i don’t want

anyone’s grasp

to pull me out and

bring me back,

i don’t want

to be named

another specimen;

i just don’t want

to be saved.

and i’m trying my

best to ignore

the voices

coursing in my

veins, draining me

of blood, as they

all hissed away

vindictively

“that could have

been you.”

~*~

You can’t let go, who is this ghost?
I won’t agree, calling my friends
This is for real, emergency…

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Glass Slipper

Because baby, baby, you’re so crazy now
Looks like I’m not the only one now
And I could finally see the light
Oh, there’s a million stars tonight
A single one could save my life…

~*~

There’s a million glass slippers across the galaxy

Scintillating in quiet fervour, constellated reveries

In sizes that vary, from supernova explosions to dwarf suns

But I could point out the most distant and say it’s the one

The one that barely emits light, almost devoured by the darkness

Of the eventide firmament, a pale eternity of madness

Unremarkable in comparison to other astral entities that rage

Indigo skies blotched with abstract shades, while it burns a solemn beige

But that broken glass slipper is the one I will always adore

Every night, I gaze upon it while nescient eyes shall choose to ignore

There’s a million glass slippers scattered across this infinity

But I only have one, my dear Cinderella star, I know she fits me perfectly.

~*~

Red water leaves us
As we collide (Drella! Drella!)
Red water leaves us
And I just drive.

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The Horticulturist

One by one the days fall beside us like yellow leaves
We have no conscience, oh, what we’re becoming
Month by month the rings on our tree trunks
Like old wise eyes grow wider
And winter lends them a dead disguise…

~*~

all the times

that my pretence

falls away to reveal

a dissecting evil

crashing against the

enamouring dopamine

of your crystal eyes

and whenever the bats

residing in my belfry

bite in rabid shreds

as i told you the reasons

why i don’t need the sun

to watch over my lies…

i didn’t know it hurt.

and even when your mouth

moved to speak of the

florid diamonds leaving your

bones with every suspended

breath i took, still i ignored

it, and culled the butterfly wings

you were only beginning to grow

crushing them for my own fool’s

grey stained glass interpretation.

i see my sorry mistake now

what an envious tongue i was

to impede and torture change

and wring them dry in deception

shivving the lunacy fringe deep

in my virulent, violent strain

perhaps the sense was never mine

to keep in mine caustic waste.

you merely wanted roses to

bloom in your pulsating thorax,

but my scissors never gave

you the chance to do so

and a different shade of scarlet

touched your skin that day.

but despite the endless famine

that haunts my soul, there’s

still thistles to be removed,

fertile soil to be revived, and

you handed me the trowel even

when i already lost sourly to you.

it’s another chance to repair all

the misfortune, to mitigate all the

repercussions, and to plant a

thornless blossom in this stygian

garden of choked weeds and demolition.

i won’t count my stars before

they paint the sky with yellow fire

but i can always count on the

misbegotten heart, sparing

another courtesy for the misguided.

no more plucking petals from

shivering deoxygenated lungs,

no matter how temptingly pretty

they may be to my twitchy fingers;

may the poisonous chemicals

no longer adhere to sprouting foliage

and murder them in cold blood,

may the flora in ingenue poetry not

be mendacious and remain untainted,

and pray let this withering, barren

desert of a garden be resplendently

efflorescent and verdant with life once more.

~*~

Now time, like an ocean, knows tide, like a notion
To toss about the house and lose inside the couch
Piles of our thoughts run miles in the dark
Just trying to get home, age by age
We rime with our seasons’ rehearsed routines
Still turning and returning…

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How come no one heard her when she said—?

She doesn’t know she’s beautiful
‘Cause no one’s ever told her so
And the demons that she hides are all she knows
And maybe she can fall in love
With someone in her life that she could trust
And tell her she’s enough
(Will someone tell her she’s enough?)

~*~

How come no one

heard her when she

was screaming in her

bedroom at three in the

morning, scratching madly

at the pristine walls until

her fingernails broke and bled?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

was crying in a bathroom

stall, all the things they threw at

her leaving marks, and all

the ugly names they chanted at

her still ringing violently in her head?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

was slicing and hacking

away at her unhealing skin

so fucking audibly, and when

she slipped on that liquid

and fell with a thud, bruised and

bathed in puddles of dirty red?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

moaned as she rested fitfully

sleep paralysis taking full

control of every recourse

mouthing all the words

to the nightmares, those things

that she’s always left unsaid?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

vomited bile and empty air

kneeling faithlessly in front of the

porcelain god, sharp ribs poking

through her paper chest, even when

she ate nothing the whole day,

with herself she was still disgusted?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

was laughing, singing, and

talking by herself, and striking

up lengthy conversations with the

imaginary friends she made up

and the demons that she wed?

.

How come no one

heard her when she

asked relentlessly for help

begging and pleading, saying

that no doctor nor medicine

could ever cure her, and perhaps

an iota of support and care

for her was all she ever needed?

.

How come no one

heard her when she was already

being so earsplittingly loud

blind eyes and deaf ears

blaming nothing but the victim

“it was her fault” they say

“she should have said something”

but they all ignored her when

she actually piped up

keeping the regret to the very end—

and now she’s silent forever

and all her words went ahead…

tell me, how come no one

heard her until she was already dead?

~*~

Maybe I’m better off dead
If I was, would it finally be enough
To shut out all those voices in my head?
Maybe I’m better off dead, better off dead!
Did you hear a word, hear a word I said?
This is not where I belong
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone…

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farce, fake, false

how long do

i have to put up

to my friends

with such a farce?

how long do

i have to keep

on ignoring all my

internal wars?

how long do

i have before this

apathy starts to

shatter and break?

how long do

i have left to live

to atone for all my

abhorrent mistakes?

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A Box of Sharp Things

Please do not

Notice the fresh

Scars on my skin

It’s nothing—

My clumsy hands

Just slipped on a

Box of sharp things

Yet again…

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Scollegare

Words woven together

A lacework of articulacy

That once veiled under

A taciturn you and me

.

Words dragging knives

Into the ruined tapestry

Now laid in tatters for

A seething you and me

.

Words hung like clouds

Of a settling fog, heavy

Enveloping lines around

A wayward you and me.

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