Tag Archives: letter

An Addict’s Automatic Love Letter

I’m in love with someone who’s hurting me killing me agonisingly slowly turning every word from my mouth into congealed blood and stale chewed gum and I can’t speak or breathe or eat anymore and it’s so heavy everything’s so heavy it’s like my bones are carved out of crude limestone but my brain is built of cheap plastic and it just refuses to work there’s a dogeared faded polaroid picture of you hidden somewhere in that fragile container and save for your radiant smiling face and soft baby blues it’s astonishingly empty no wonder that’s how I feel most days now most days it’s just the taste of your exquisite name lingering on my bruised lips though we never even kissed and some kind of sick distraction that never lasts long enough to send me back into the past to heal my scars if I didn’t run away from you like a complete coward back then would I be bravely holding your hand now? There’s really nothing much to do but sit around and contemplate and silently cope and stare at the bedroom walls bleached with dry rot and knuckle marks and try to ignore the creeping blood drawing underlines all over your wrists it’s about to burst oh god everything’s about to fucking explode into the most beautiful most violent most decadent shade of red———no. The carnage speaks for itself but I never once touched you no I wouldn’t dare taint your artful acrylic heart with my filthy damaged corrupted skin please you’re so perpetually pretty and I’m just the mess you made and you didn’t even know no you’ll never even know I don’t know why that pains me the most when it should be all for the best and you should be happy you deserve that much and more and I love you my darling yes I do you’re worth more than all the black holes and stardust in the universe and I’ll never adore and cherish anyone more than you but it’s sad to say you’ll always be hurting me killing me choking my words from a million miles and oceans away a million times over until drowning becomes just another bad habit and my obsessive lungs are filled with taffy and saltwater and it’s weighing my tongue down I can’t speak anymore though I have too much to say to you but you’ll never hear me out so I guess I should save myself for hell and dream of you just one last time to see if the thrill of the chase lasts longer than the capturing kill (I’m certain it wouldn’t, but the stupid things I would do for you in an arrested heartbeat could stop my twitching pulse) and finally shut up.

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20.5 – arrow (pt. 2)

ii.) shaft

dear friend on the other side of the planet,

you make me laugh a lot, you know? it’s rather silly, but i just love your little shenanigans. the way our elated screams always intertwine together in a dissonant enthusiasm, the way we never hesitate to send our artworks and writings; trusting each other with quiet glimpses of our whimsical souls, the way you send the crazy pictures of you without any second thought—even though i’m too insecure and afraid to do the same—and the stupid way we try to bascially hurt each other with the most adorable band photos we could possibly find, relentlessly warring it out with no surrender to the end.

all of this probably wouldn’t make sense to any sane person. but that doesn’t matter, just as long as it doesn’t make sense to us either. it’s funny and i don’t think it’s ever going to get old. mostly, we just sling our constant admirations and strange motivations about and try to volleyball-pass them back straight to each other’s faces; as if trying to outdo the other one in a compliment contest—which, again, no one really wins anyway. thankfully for us.

it’s about 3 a.m. as i write this, while i’m simultaneously sending another dumb gif that’s sure to blow your fragile heart out, and my exhausted body is on the verge of imminent collapse; yet i can’t help but hang around for just a tad while longer to retaliate with another cute face one more time. i sure as hell won’t be running short of those anytime soon, and believe me, i won’t rest until i get the last word—quite literally. so be afraid, be very a f r a i d…

i know you’ll most likely never read this, but hey, all the same, thanks for those quiet moments of fun and insanity, and for unintentionally kicking me back up whenever i’m at my lowest depths. yeah, thank you for being the patty to my aws, you dumb emo dork. i’ll get you back for making me this weirdly sentimental and also for all those weird hair photos someday, i swear to ali’s eyeliner.

best regards, a sleep-deprived pasty-faced lonely swamp kid.

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nocturnes, numbers, nyctophilia

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness—and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark. ~Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

~*~

i.) the jealous penmanship

clever words left tears forming in my brain

ones that i have to open up my healing bruises

just so i could let them out somewhere

somewhere my veins wouldn’t be affected severely

(it was late at night, and my stars called out from nowhere)

sensations poured out from every letter and departure,

as it entangled itself with my nerves and wore them down,

and wore them like a dirty dress, and wore them out to town

until they were worn-out; nothing but a few stray threads.

i burned half of my journals when i turned 16 and stopped trying

to imitate being an author, because writing for me isn’t an expectation–

it’s nothing but another puzzling lock without a skeleton key

and because the most delicate daydream wasn’t mine

because selfishness, to me, is not just another bland adjective

because my bones screamed with the weight of a black hole

because your reveries were enchanting. and mine were f a d e d

n o , i ‘ l l  n e v e r  b e  a s  g o o d  a s  y o u

~*~

ii.) softness, like his heart in the shape of a newborn galaxy

i faded into an ugly shade of something that’s neither monochrome nor coloured;

on the verge of collapsing onto the other side of the fence, threatening madly

but never quite having the contemplation to choose a losing side

as i fell down into the blue of a stranger’s wanderlust eyes.

someone else had taken most of that vibrant shade already, but i managed

to steal away just a sliver, a glimpse, an infinitesimal shiver

and it was the kind of lasting cold that froze summer hurricanes

and kept my breaths visibly foggy and crisply sharp with every inhale

(you never warned me. you don’t know me, but you knew me too well. and i never listen.)

i’ll always be an insignificant detail in the cyan tapestry you painted for yourself

and i’ve accepted that long ago when i said i loved you in my nightmares,

tossing and turning on the bed covered in plastic arrogance because

no other blanket felt warm and comfortable enough for my body to sleep on

until then, i could only sink deeper into the fathomless wish that this universe would end s o o n

i t  w a s  a  k i n d  o f  l o v e  t h a t  m a d e  s u i c i d e  s o u n d  l i k e  m u s i c

~*~

iii.) an abrupt goodbye/the guilty party often disappears first

i was mad at something. i didn’t know what it was, but it was foolish enough

for me to take it out onto the embracing autumn sky, on the taciturn smiles that

were supposed to hold me when tempestuous desolation grabbed at my twisted throat…

and on you. you never meant anything. you just wanted to talk, and so did i,

but my tongue was a spilling box of blades, and every time i opened my

wounded mouth to make you laugh, i always ended up cutting you by accident instead.

(friend, even if i said i’m sorry, can you ever forgive me for what i’ve done to you?)

it was an unreasonable apology, and i erased myself because of my own self-hatred,

but not before leaving footprints of a migraine in your head, which you will inadvertently step on,

slip at, and hurt yourself…fuck. i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why i have

to push and pull apart the only semblance of logic in my life, the only anchor

that keeps me from towing away from the tides, the last person that still feels real to me

when everything else has blurred into an amalgamated indistinct static background;

i don’t know why i feel so smothered, when you’re the only attention i’ll ever have and need.

at this point, the only thing we have is each other’s problems, and the way we both

jeered at it, taunted it, and blocked it out with our own shared playlists until we felt better—

but now that summer was just a distant memory, and so was the scarlet artwork we made of it.

you also needed comfort. but did even try? no. i ran away from the colliding wreckage

as if it wasn’t my fault, and i numbed myself out because i couldn’t do the same for y o u

i ‘ m  s o r r y  i  m a d e  y o u  s a y  s o r r y  s o  m u c h . . .

i  d i d n ‘ t  m e a n  t o  d e s t r o y  e v e r y t h i n g

~*~

iv.) the midnight closes. the violent curtain falls.

the cold glow of my computer screen was rude and restless

and it made my fingers promise, crossed and uncrossed, that i would

stay with it until it slips into comatose. i have rinsed my mouth with lukewarm water

a hundred times to try to wash out the taste of stale coffee, but it never came out and now

i’m stuck with it until morning, until another astrological moon cycle, until i lose

myself in the chemical moments of something that’s so artificially natural.

i’m constantly starving myself, stuck between confidence and relapsing withdrawals of

my past life that i thought i discarded when i finally held on to my shooting star,

but it was always tethered tightly to me by a crimson string. and it always probably will be.

i’m alone. i’m friends with people that talk shit to me in the mirror, and when i bite

my chapped lips and draw blood by accident, it almost feels like atonement. almost.

(i got what i came for and i can’t try again. this is what i want…..isn’t it?)

i know that there are people out there making fun of me and rolling their eyes

petulantly as they bask in the trite, whimsical “perfection” of their storybook existence

but not everything has a happy ending, and not every sad story has to end badly.

i don’t know. i’ll never know. i’m tired and i have responsibilities that i’m not

built for, and every crack turns into a break, and a break into shattered p i e c e s

t o m o r r o w  i ‘ l l  d o  t h i s  o v e r  a g a i n  .  u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  t o m o r r o w s .

~*~

v.) nocturnes.

( a n d  i ‘ l l  s t a y  h e r e )

u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  n u m b e r s  t o  c o u n t ,

a n d  t h o u g h t s  t o  f e e l ,

a n d  n i g h t s  t o  s t a y  a w a k e .

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The Diary Of Jane; or Three Excerpts

i.) him; or the rest of the infinite lie

Try to find out what makes you tick
As I lie down, sore and sick
Do you like that, do you like that?
There’s a fine line between love and hate
And I don’t mind, just let me say
That I like that, I like that…

revenge is colder than the dark ocean

that you carelessly left me to drown in

fill the chasm with the rest of my blood

and take warmth in my spiteless jealousy

as you want to make me bow down to you

but i’m carried away by your fading current

the horizon bends but never breaks the weight

is there another way to hold on to the sky again?

~*~

ii.) her; or the story no one wanted to tell

Desperate, I will crawl
Waiting for so long
No love, there is no love
Die for anyone
What have I become?

she’s sore and sick from all the fine red lines

her penned diaries have been burned to ashes

and no one tells her how it should be—or why

desperation ascending from her spine and body

“why don’t you die?” the windows were fogged

when she took her own life in that late autumn night

but no one wanted to cry tears for a corpse in a closet

so they buried her the best they could to keep her quiet…

~*~

iii.) them; or the guilt that burned a house

Something’s getting in the way
Something’s just about to break
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane
As I burn another page, as I look the other way
I still try to find my place in the diary of Jane
So tell me how it should be…

the front porch is swollen with pink lightning bugs

the coffee’s cold, but i stopped drinking it long ago

i don’t want morning light to catch up with my sins

i have things in my head that they cannot ever know

so i write a final letter to dear agony, forget to sign it

but it’s never enough to keep my head from screaming

the gunshots should have disturbed their sleeping sister

but she’s not here anymore. i’m sorry. let’s just get this over

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Rhyme and Reason

I’m a stray for blue boys and a songheart for little bo-peeps.

I wish I didn’t exist in dusty novels and forgotten storybooks the way that your obscene breath does, the way that your dreamscape wings fall off into ashes, the way that you simply do. Always in the ways that I couldn’t.

I despise myself for being a complete upside-down fool, madly limerent for this fiasco of a game that I’ve lost the moment before it even started, violently surrendered and beaten blonde and black to the point where I start doubting myself in bitter gunshots and giving my sweet bullets all up just so I could be your unsigned scarlet letter.

Do you understand me? Because I don’t.

I wish I would have written a hundred synesthetic postcards left unsent, but all I have are these hundred meretricious words to tell you what you don’t know. What you won’t know. And what you never will.

Stay lost, blue boy. Or you’ll end up like me.

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Post-its for the Past

Now you’re here and you don’t know why
But under skinned knees and the skid marks
Past the places where you used to learn
You howl and listen, listen and wait for the
Echoes of angels who won’t return…

~*~

MAYBE LOST

I have my back on the sun, facing forward

So long and goodnight to the mornings I will discard

In the highway I constructed, shadows shift

I think I’ll be walking on this life they call a road trip.

~*~

CASTCADE

Conflagration flying past oceans, murmuring tacit prayers

Counting fallen feathers for the losing sky-drowned hours

Causeries bartering hanging lights and silver dollar moons

Crashing in collisions of star showers, orbit heaven at noon.

~*~

ANGER DANGER

Leave me to beat out the bad news with a belt

But I never leave scars, only angry marks and welts

Soon they’ll come back for another box round

Perhaps this time I can bury them all into the ground.

~*~

MIRRORED OFFING

The distorted horizons appear to be a looking glass

In which vacant visages can peer out flummox past

Unblinking funicular eyes oscillate betwixt the edge

Again it sinks into cosmic cisterns, glazing the ledge.

~*~

RECEIVED

The letter I sent to the past never arrived for the message

The return address was blurred, I lacked a ten pence postage

So I’ll send another envelope to the future me, it’s enough

This time, I’m changing the postmark and licking the stamps.

~*~

But you’ll just sit tight and watch it unwind
It’s only what you’re asking for
And you’ll be just fine with all of your time
It’s only what you’re waiting for…

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A Letter For Future Youngbloods

As little moments fade, they come forth at night
Demanding all I think about, maybe it’s how we roll
Well, I can’t get better of stone, I won’t be letting her
Out and I can’t keep drowning this down…

~*~

Don’t let my arrival stutter this departure

Hostile eyes for bankrupt hearts endured

A balance between cosmos and dopamine

Atrium burns irascible, drunk on kerosene

.

High time to return my inimical courtesies

Retaliate and sophisticate, lavished parody

Atrophy my sanity, perversity on the floors

Convalesce as I lock up the revolving doors

.

Moments of sunshine, share words of harm

Briefcases brimmed blue, serpentine charm

Girls in the courtyard as boys make amends

Falling dollars, promises and lies to be spent

.

Cutting corners, raised stakes, paint, repent

Gamble equivocal disgrace, true half-meant

Situation at its vertex, but it never escalates

The venturers and inveterates said retaliate

.

But the end’s always the same as all the rage

Lying all alone and sleeping on spare change

Waiting for the world to reveal its only hand

Children of men, don’t pretend to understand

.

Glowing eyes extinguished by the fading moon

Kings of contagious plagues, stonewall’s gloom

Force of habit take society’s fashionable design

What is yours is mine and what is mine is mine

.

If I gave you all of my decency, showing up my only face

Ostentate, create, but don’t spend all of that in one place

Dear unfortunate youngblood, where did your youth go?

Your future’s squandered away, there’s nowhere to be so.

~*~

Oh, your eyes they glow
So pretty, they’ve lost their word
They king me the love
And I know I’m dead inside
I’m reminded every night
So girl, just know it won’t be me…

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An Affair with an Angel

You know that, I’m a nightmare and I’m going crazy
You’re going nowhere so
I’m taking you with me (out of line)
This is what you get when you fuck with a classic roundabout
But it just might be me out of line…

~*~

Paying for intense fire that presents itself in metaphor

This is what you deserve for putting it out

Screaming fucking hell into a payphone call to heaven

Until the plastic receiver melts your mouth

Conflagrating under pyres that consent your affliction

That’s what you get for falling in addiction

Sending letters to dear agony signed in your own blood

Hoping for a reply, but it never reaches God.

~*~

I’m relentless
I’m relentless
I’m relentless!

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from a writer who can’t write, to a friend who doesn’t care

Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading
So sick and tired of all the needless beating
But baby when they knock you down
And out is where you ought to stay…

~*~

i’m never enough.

every time i build

my invincible walls

back up, you shatter

it with a crashing

sledgehammer

and a glint of your

candy fucking teeth

you’re so goddamn eloquent

an angel with a seraphim

choir voice, heavenly

and i’m just a shitty

raconteur, a useless dry

quill pretending to be

a writer, a croaking bullfrog,

a clean cut nothing

vying to be the something

you would notice and

admire back, and maybe

even e n v y . . .

but no, don’t read

the lines in the wrong

perspective, oh no

i adore you so much

darling, that it turns

my heart into chiseled

stone and devours my

lusted guts like acid

in my abandoned brain

for your creative spell

is my personal dante’s hell.

but this jealousy

hurts so fucking good

that i find ways to

compare, contrast

and inflict pain on myself

emotionally, mentally

p h y s i c a l l y

desiring the day you

finally notice my scars

and compliment them

and i’ll feel fucking

revered and glorified

by a cheap side remark

by a person who couldn’t care

to a thing with ugly taint.

am i really so insecure

as to resort to low blows

and pathetic attention whoring

to feel a little better

about my blithe existence?

F U C K. Y E S.

because no matter how

many beautiful words

i bleed in silver and gold

from my pen and

into the blank canvas,

prose, poetry, stories, lies—

i’m just never enough

to make myself worthy

for myself…

no, i’m never fucking enough

for you.

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Mama, didn’t mean to make you cry

Mama, we’re all gonna die
Stop asking me questions
I’d hate to see you cry!
Mama, we’re all gonna die…

~*~

Mama,

The baby boy that you cared for just didn’t want to be your son

He wanted his dad to look up to, he wanted to be a better man

He tied his shoes the way you taught him, lace over under one

He packed his bags to chase the sky, and away your baby boy ran

.

Mama,

The baby girl that you loved just didn’t want any of your compassion

She wasted her life and bled her thoughts with rusty gears and a knife

She tied her hair the way you taught her, plaited neat with a pink ribbon

Clicked her heels and stole some wheels, now your baby girl’s a wife

.

Mama,

The little child that you raised just simply didn’t want to let you down

For you worked your backbones broken and you sold your golden crown

You just wanted a better future for us, and to live to see our tomorrow

Oh mama, how would you have known that it would all end in sorrow?

.

Mama,

I don’t know how you always have stark hope, forever keeping our strayed faith

Pray some more, sweat every pore, and cross your fingers hard until it breaks

But mama, you never asked anyone anything, no, you never begged Him why

I’m sorry mama, I promise we will be okay someday, so don’t cry, please don’t cry

~*~

And if you would call me a sweetheart
I’d maybe then sing you a song
But the shit that I’ve done with this fuck of a gun
You would cry out your eyes all night long!

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