Tag Archives: letters

pseudonym [8.5]

047012d7-820e-4edf-86a8-9267db38f2cb

ALLEVIATE

careless sight of you

grin like a thieving feline

lifting sense away.

NERVES MAXIM

a single green heart

is all it would take for me

to snap and confess.

DESUETUDE

manual creakiness

the typewriter blots letters

manuscripts of shame.

YEUK (THE ITCH)

so what’s the plan now?

i’m just your nasty blister

will you bleed me out?

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Odes And Dedications

I’d write you a million letters

You left me at a loss for words

Halfway around the world, yet

You stole my breaths unfurled

.

I’ll compose until my hands ache

And my quill protests ‘no more’

Until I dried up all the ink I have

And literates stop keeping score

.

I’d write you in ballads and sonnets

Limericks, haikus, and silly rhymes

I’d write you odes and lengthy epics

That shall withstand the test of time

.

And all the troubadours and minstrels

Will speak of your name for centuries

Immortalised between yellowing pages

Of prose and verse and lines of poetry

.

I’d write you a million novels and books

‘Til I run out of words to use in every language

And even then, it still won’t fully express

Just how much you truly made this bard change.

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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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letters to s.d.: fragment #7 {heights}

i loa[REDACTED] [REDACTED]out [REDACTED]tor, alw[REDACTED] remember.

.

please don’t…

i can’t bear the thought

of this pen moving

and throwing up useless

bullshit yet again…

why do i try? why do i try?

i want to reach for you.

you’re only five feet six inches

short, but when i stand on

your shoulders, i see the whole

universe tearing itself up

apart in neon explosions and

consternated constellations,

and i’m the maestro conductor,

tapping away and waving

the concatenations, every beat

of discord, and the astral

symphony of an entropy.

save me with your caramel arms

don’t let me get sucked in

by the impending black hole

that nullifies every cell, every

song, every damn belief

in my body and system, until

i am reduced to cosmic echoes

of a voided wavelength,

fraudulent e.m.p.t.i.n.e.s.s.

and somehow i would rather

let this planet eat me away.

but don’t let my god go

away for me, love every comet

and asteroid as if it were

my heartbeat and soul,

manipulate the disaster of

my negative existence,

and kiss me goodnight on

this somnolent moontide.

i stopped these knives for you

i’ll make you proud again.

this time, i won’t let the demons

steal my comets and win.

my dearest s.d., you were

always a giant standing among

toy soldiers, so commandeer

the garrison of the angels straight

to heal my stretched humanity

and make my universe spin

once again. i’ll wish for your

comforting star each lonely night,

s.d., so please watch over me

and hope i don’t fall away this time.

love, wishes, and goodbye; signed,

your bleeding little blue moon.

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letters to s.d.: fragment #5 {irony}

i ate sh[REDACTED] and vom[REDACTED]ed razor blades.

.

i’m sorry

i’m not strong

enough

to listen to

your words

i know you

did this before

and it fucking

H U R T

so you stopped

for your sake

but i’m not you

i only wish i

was with you

you’re the only

person who

believes in me,

and you never

met me in your

whole life

isn’t that funny?

i can’t stop.

after all,

it only hurts

when i laugh.

.

smile until the pa[REDACTED] turns to [REDACTED] and ashes.

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letters to s.d.: fragment #4 {lyricism}

you sing with [REDACTED] and i fu[REDACTED] and my voice up.

.

darling,

oh how i wish

i could sound

as profound

and as delicately

eloquent as you

when i speak

of this damn world’s

darkest chasms

but instead

i only end up

complaining unfair

and seething

childishly in

maudlin dramatics,

in my tongue

there’s a taste of

bitter spasms.

.

how can i say i [REDACTED]e you?

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letters to s.d.: fragment #3 {selfish}

why can’t i fucking keep [REDACTED] from [REDACTED] the world?

.

please save me

when i don’t wanna

be saved, ‘cause

i just can’t be saved

i’m too damn weak

i’m too fucking tired

i’m just wasted away

i’ve spent nights

screaming at the top

of the balcony

until my lungs beg me

to calm the hell down

you told me not to do it

but temptation crushed

me in its serpentine hold

and why do you care?!

i’m not worth your time

i’m not worth any of

your vocal paintings

in lacquer and grey

i know you’ll never

write songs for me

when i am hurting

or when i am lonely

or when i’m miserable

and hell, all three

effects simultaneously

and i know you

won’t stop singing

even when i’m gone

your serenades are never

mine to hide to myself

as a decadent secret

i’m just not, you’re just not.

but why?

why do you keep the

rusty razors from dancing

on my leather heart?

why do you make me

vain to feel every pain

when i loathe emotions

and it hurts even more?

why do you keep me

awake all night, like a

paranoiac insomniac, but keep

me alive all damn day?

why do you make me

believe you wholeheartedly

when you softly say

“darling, you’ll be okay”?

why do you make me

laugh as i start to cry

and cry as i start to laugh?

why? why? why?

why do you even try?

why do i even lie?

why is it always you?

why do you keep me from fucking dying?

and why don’t i fucking care?

.

why [REDACTED] listening [REDACTED] shit?

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letters to s.d.: fragment #2 {inked}

vi[REDACTED]inc[REDACTED]te[REDACTED]

.

the tattoo of your name

embedded in the mutilated

skin of my arms, reminds

me of why i’m surviving

this wreckage of a war

they look at it like it’s dirty,

i’m besmirched with black

but it’s the only tether to reality

that keeps pulling me back.

.

to[REDACTED]rry [REDACTED]ime pre[REDACTED] mik[REDACTED]nte[REDACTED]

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letters to s.d.: fragment #1 {lifeline}

To: S.D., West Coast
Southern California
Return address: V.M.J.T.
Tijuana, Mexico

dear s.d.,

i don’t know how to begin,

but I know where it all starts.

it starts with me carving

gold stars on my wrists

and leaving tissues stained

with a beautiful shade of red

sopping over the metal kitchen sink,

glinting a hypnotic silver like

the blade in my trembling hands

…and that’s where it all was

simply supposed to have ended.

but apparently i’m still alive

and instead of wasting my blood

i’ll use the rusty ink to write

to you instead. so, how are you?

i miss the thought of losing you

and your silly uttered promises.

you said you’ll be the catalyst

to my raging cancer, but I’m still

crippled and weak from the fear.

you also told me you’d come to

separate my throat from my own

cold dead hands, but you’re still

missing and I’m still meaningless.

your lies are inebriating, darling.

you keep running circles in my

one-track mind 24/7, 365 days,

but I don’t think of you enough

or otherwise I wouldn’t have

proceeded with painting my

paper skin with rubious liquid

before shredding it to pieces

like any other filthy, disgusting

untoward abstract art deserves.

as my guts twist and untwist like

the grey earphone cords jammed

in my ears, blasting this fucking

world away with fake allegories

of a boulder hard lullaby melody,

and your voice screams the song

that i fell hard for. i’m fully aware

that you were singing it for bella,

not for me, and it’s so bittersweet

yet still I could not help myself

and a blossomed ironic quivering

smile collides against the pain—

fugacious, but for a moment

everything seemed quite normal

(but the moment of normalcy

was ruined by the knife biting

down distractedly on my flesh).

oh, your remedy and memory is

killing me slowly, worse than the

disease. we liked to run our blood

thin, but you divorced this addiction

and turned to singing, rivers calming

your tantrum storms, while I kept

relapsing to the blades that love to

feel, screaming in the showerhead

as scalding water pours and prepares

my temperature for inevitable hell.

i simply cannot help it, darling.

in this purgatory existence, there

are only momentary limbos of a

cumulonimbus paradise, before the

mocking angels snatch it away from

me, out of my reach; and make it rain

glass shards and wasteland debris

to maim my intravenous drugged veins

and they didn’t take you from me;

no, they goddamn dragged you halfway

around the fucking universe to keep

your gospel lips unattainable forever.

this ritual is only my blood sacrifice

to the merciless gods. understand that

this is only my way of returning you back

to the embrace of my lacerated arms that

You have yet to wrap yourself around in.

i’m so sorry this had to be the last resort.

i just want your company to burn me again.

i know that you won’t condone this blasphemy…

but you’re my heaven s.d., so don’t give me hell.

.

don’t let [REDACTED] go, don’t fucking throw [REDACTED] away.

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letters to pluto

hearts of monochrome

all lined in a tome

stamps staring as you

open the envelope

letters of chromaticicity

plucked from stars

and they spin and spiral

like skin with scars

colliding, our eloquence

in myriad nonsense

the girl with hopes to say

on inky parchment

you are a pluto in a solar

system of dreams

never one to be noticed

but no one forgets

your place in the sky, it seems.

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