Tag Archives: look

lookback

i’m glad you

don’t miss me

i’m glad i

once cared

.

let stasis

take over

were we

ever there?

.

i’m glad you

don’t miss me

or else i

might care

.

the nightmares

are over

but why am i

still scared?

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beautiful creature [spoken word poetry]


(uhhh idfk but here’s an absolutely terrible first actual attempt at spoken word poetry bc my rationality is severely dysfunctional ooft. sorry if i sound very weird. and talk very bad. i’m not exactly radio voice material but i tried?? i sound so annoyingly manic here that’s because i am and no one’s probably gonna listen to this so what am i even making excuses up for. this is far from my usual content but 2020’s a year of trying dumb regrettable shit i guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)


beautiful creature

i am jealous of you,

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature.

beautiful, tiny, skinny, pretty

do you not know how it feels

to be so frustratingly jealous of you?

perhaps you do.

perhaps you wrap a ribbon around

your waist and your wrists and grab both ends and pull hard—

until your organs start to embrace each other

and the lack of blood makes your cheeks glow

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

so pretty, perhaps each freckle on

your perfectly angled nose is mirrored

from every constellation in the sky

and your smile never grows crooked

because you practice in front of the mirror everyday,

lifting each corner delicately until the wind fixes it

into that permanent, enchanting look

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

watch how they so adore you,

an undivided attention filled only with

wish-i-was and want-to-be’s and maybe-if-i…

but i will never be

you. beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

i pull at my ribbons until my veins start to show

but it snaps in half and flies back to my face; oh, my face,

whose spots reflect the craters in the dark side of the moon

and every time i try to smile, it’s a lunar eclipse

“witchcraft!” they call it

but which one am i?

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

beautiful, tiny, skinny, pretty

our monsters are the same,

but why do yours look so

god damn beautiful?

when you speak, it hurts

and when i listen, it hurts even more

you can’t talk to yourself like that,

beautiful, tiny, skinny creature

there is someone out there who will

willingly ask for all your monsters

i’ll make them behave, i’ll take care of them, i promise

and you’ll still be beautiful

and tiny, and skinny, and pretty

and i’ll have more monsters

but i will still be

me.

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Paternoster

I still look for you

In suffocating temples

Within the faith I lost

And in mindless rituals

.

Mumbled promises

The kind I couldn’t keep

Memories that grow

More distant as I sleep

.

I still look for you

When the pangs cut through

All the could-have-beens

Just a name they never knew

.

Maybe there’s an afterlife

And maybe I’ll turn out okay

Memories will stay with us

Even if you’re long gone away.

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voyeurism

conceal the past

wipe your filthy mouth

but your bridal dress

is quite sleeveless

and there’s too much

blood to staunch now—

now am i your perfect

silent witness?

.

the curtain protesting

against my hunched

body, you thought it was

just the midnight wind

billowing, but it was the

breaths i failed to hold

shallowly enraged and

almost fucking deranged

.

as the unspeakable acts are

fed to me live right before

my eyes, i want to throw up

i want to stain my melting mind

with a heavy dose of ammonia

and scream to god, and scream

to stop, let my oxygen burst into

flames from immense friction

.

disgusted beyond rationality

i can’t look away, my skin shudders

as i seem to hear yours being viciously

torn apart with a sickening rip and

a sickening crunch and a sickening

laugh—but why was it yours, shit

why the fuck was it yours?! eerie calm

ensues but i’m afraid to come out

.

from my flimsy hiding place—all before the lights

turn off and a shadow shifts in front of me…

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Zephyros

She looks at the rain

And she sees a hurt sky

Trying to tell her about

The woes it hides behind

Its silver-lined clouds.

.

She’s the only one

Who perceives beyond

The slate arctic weather

And feels the woes melting

Into reveries behind her eyelids.

.

She’s the only one

Who looks at the rain

And she’s the only one

Who listens.

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Wrong Weekend

03.10.18. Saturday, 3:02 AM. Manhattan, New York.


He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes
Started making his way past 2 in the morning
He hasn’t been sober for days
Leaning now into the breeze
Remembering Sunday, he falls to his knees…


It’s three in the morning when I lock my heart behind the closet doors

And then I take another drink so I could forget what it was fighting for

Everything is louder when the sounds of a life once held are long gone

I’m crashing and cresting like the tidal waves of this bathroom tantrum

I’m looking for someone that has disappeared from newspaper tragedies

Hey mister, have you seen this person in the photo that was never taken?

It’s another hazy day wasted, but I guess I’ll go home just to burn it down

Write a song on my six-stringed guitar, and I wonder where you are again.


Forgive me, I’m trying to find
My calling, I’m calling at night
I don’t mean to be a bother
But have you seen this girl?
She’s been running through my dreams
And it’s driving me crazy, it seems…



07.16.18. Saturday, 3:57 AM. Manchester, England.


I’m not coming back (forgive me)
I’ve done something so terrible
I’m terrified to speak (I’m not calling, I’m not calling)
But you’d expect that from me
I’m mixed up, I’ll be blunt, now the rain is just…


It’s three in the morning when I put on my coat and slipped past the doors

After an evening of drinks so I could forget that I’m even fighting anymore

Everything is louder when the sounds of a life once held begins to fall apart

I’m collapsing and colliding just trying to get you out of that bathroom stunt

I’m losing myself and slowly disappearing under a pile of newspaper eulogies

Hey miss, can we delete ourselves, to pretend that this photo was never taken?

It’s another hazy day spent, so I guess I’ll go home in a place where I don’t burn

Right by the six-windowed room, and I won’t ever wonder where you are again.


You’re driving me crazy, I’m—
Washing you out of my hair and out of my mind
Keeping an eye on the world, from so many thousands
Of feet off the ground, I’m over you now
I’m at home in the clouds, and towering over your head
Well I guess I’ll go home now. I guess I’ll go home…


 

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outside looking in

i am the

opposite

of empty

because

everything

is within me

and nothing

is going on

outside…

and i all i

want to do is

to turn myself

inside out.

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Of Feminine Odds And Endings

I swear you complete me
Pink and blue on the skyline
Don’t the demons take this time
So raise me up, never say you’ve had enough
And you know it’s love when it’s bottled up…

~*~

Spent ten days counting dandelions in a field

Like time was miserable and needed camera thrills

Painting a scene that wasn’t quite as wayward

As a night filled with stars in some cheap postcard

Distance is effervescent when I close my eyes

Lips pulled into an idyllic smile, trying to play nice

.

Waking up when the collapse is felt in earthquake faults

Visions stifled with thorazine, my art is charcoal cold

I’ll dance like it’s the apocalypse, I’ll sing loud like I mean it

Spin a tornado with the air I have left in my lungs sweet

I’m just a mess trapped in sunflower swirls and pastel dreams

Tinderbox between my teeth, aldehyde ignites my screams

.

I don’t mind that it’s mindless, I don’t make any sense

The windows show my only escape from pyrexia bleakness

I’ll cast a spell and make the golden in the sunshine die

Plucked violets intricately lacing, like delinquent butterflies

Traipse by coastlines ’til the shore is nowhere to be found

Staring at the hypnotic horizon until I cannot feel the ground

.

Heavy, heavy, heavy dahlias; transient mysteries I’ll never solve

The morning’s further past over, and the mourning’s getting old

I’m a melancholy melody, I’m a symptom of severing snowdrops

A feverish heart cured by faux rhinestones from a psychic’s shop

Contrary crazy, I only miss the rain when the weather’s at it’s best

Drown in myself, I’ll keep looking for an exit out of this baby’s breath.

~*~

I had a dream that
I drove my car off a mountain
I fell back into your baby’s breath
Wish I didn’t miss you
Kiss me like it’s the apocalypse
I fell back into your baby’s breath…

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left in stitches

my father sat beside me

and his eyes were in stitches.

i fidgeted, and touched the linoleum floor

with my cold bare feet;

my father didn’t say a word.

he merely stared at me with needle looks

threading unspoken thoughts over and

under my skin in tight crisscrosses.

i flinched, once again, and my feet instinctively

twitched to graze the floor, but i only

felt frigid air and a million miles of

nothingness beneath my cold bare feet.

i was starting to bleed profusely

and my numb fingers were convulsing

from the relentless tingling that was

overtaking every inch of my

breaking-down body

and still, i didn’t have a clue on

what was happening to me.

i tried to call out for help

but, it seemed that my crying mouth

was already sewn shut, and

my father was embroidering his

guilt and blame on my face,

cast fault and lost sins forming eternal

patterns of this knitted contrition,

writing down personal confessions

that were not even mine to begin with

and will never be mine to keep.

my eyes were slowly shutting now.

and with the last strength that i could

muster up within me, i pleaded silently with

my father, screaming “what have i done to you?”

but my father, with his eyes in stitches

and his love for me trapped in a needlepoint,

he finally looked away and murmured

“what have you done to yourself?”

i think i may have shed a tear (or lint?)

before the last of my vision was tied off

and i was nothing but endless unraveling threads—

i woke up quietly crying and suffocated

by my blanket, feeling soft prickles on the

numb arm i accidentally slept on.

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the story

don’t make me run

to the ends of the earth

looking for an ending

for i could chase it

my entire life and still

find myself at the beginning.

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