Tag Archives: manipulation

Andromeda

Can anyone reveal the bloodstains

Hiding underneath my torn lips…

Would anyone kiss it all away?

.

My thoughts are arrested at gunpoint

As if they were guilty of something—

.

But the crimes hanging my crown

Heavy on one side are nothing new

I’ve already paid for them time and time again

But why am I still being punished?

.

I can’t escape the incarceration from

What everyone else calls their brain

Try as I may to scrape off the slivers of light,

A jailbreak only makes for broken bones

And a rather crueler atonement…

.

I’m crossing thin lines inside my head

And all over my skin, precarious and fatal

Until humility becomes my illness

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And manipulation my only chapel of truth

.

For I am no longer human; rather

I am simply a galaxy of constellated scars

.

But not a single one coruscates any longer

And my flesh becomes just another dead star

Extinguished quietly in the infinite darkness.

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Delilah and the Philistines

My mental image impaired
Undid the braids in my hair
I rain destruction in the fight of my inner feels
Remove the tricks of the trade
You’re just alone on the stage
There’s no witness fly your soul
Through the windshield…

~*~

She breaks all your fingers and she calls it love

She’s got the eyes of a demon with the hands of a god

A delicate masquerade, dress lined of backbones

Sentencing the innocent to hang by her good intentions

.

She sleeps in a bed of casualties, a murder house designed

To lure in the chains and incarcerate her psychosomatic desires

Picturesque saint with a stolen halo falling off asphodel hair

Lips of asbestos and reflections of disaster on her morning wear

.

“It’s all for your good,” a sultry lie, “have faith in no one but me.”

Keep the strings attached on your neck, deflecting her own failed sun

“You’re never going to be satisfied, why do you even try, sweetie?”

The automatic letter for the clockwork machinery she calls her lungs

.

She breaks you down and breaks you apart and she calls it love

She’s a philosopher without the sagacity, she’s a surgeon without the blood

A desperate manipulation, exposed body lined with cheating scars

Sentencing the world to hang by her bad intentions just because she lost the war.

~*~

Damaged pride and vulnerable
All my fears are open now
Never thought I could hurt you so hard
Staring at my hollow phone
Wondering if you’ve found your home
Feel like I deserve to die alone again…

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The Bulls Are In Broadway

Some people have it and other people don’t
You’ve been making some threats, got my name and address
I’m breaking habits you don’t want to know
Though I’m wearing my clothes feeling cold and exposed, yeah
Don’t say you miss me, you probably don’t
Well, I’ve been crossing some lines that most folks won’t…

~*~

This is the academy of wasting second chances

And the maggots in my eyes are drying up my tears

My intuition knocked itself out on cheap champagne

As the discourse turned to an allegory dance severe

.

It’s a sociogenic alacrity, and my dress is on too tight

But I’m far too smitten by repertoire to call it a night

So remind me again, what’s my capacity for secrets?

Tell me with a gun to my head and I swear I’ll keep it

.

My lips are shivering from these hemlock-laced canapes

So admonish me for all my bad manners and mistakes

I’ll just downplay the lust for another fractured spine

The consequence for saving the best for the worst lines

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Mismatched manipulation, but they will take it in anyway

Blink back the altercations and accusations that ricochet

With a sympathetic sigh overstepping the plague’s carnage

Like finest red wine, tragedy gets better when it’s aged

.

This transition was intransigent, an accolade for incoherence

Bent backs turned upon lacquered lies and marble-carved doors

You don’t get to die on me, not after my life has taken the perfect end

So won’t you let write the last chapter on my unresponsive monitor?

~*~

Oh, don’t say you’re more than this or above all this
With your blah blah blah and all your friends
Don’t say you think you know, when you know you don’t
Because tonight the Bulls are in Brooklyn and you’re still at home!

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Thanatopsis Erebus

Soft wrists and sharp edges

A dark breath in decline

The disconcerting interplay

Performance of the sign

Moon-blanched vulgarities

Pale innocence on death

Wistful dreams for coroners

Torment thy cozen health

Sedation after manipulations

Lies of century-old adage

Contradictions the affectation

Of this cadenced sabotage

Soft minds and sharp hindsight

Provoke suffocating times

Of this disenchanting execution

Leaving only wordless lines.

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Makeout Sessions Gone Wrong in Las Vegas Stripclubs

Now I’m of consenting age
To be forgetting you in a cabaret
Somewhere downtown where a
Burlesque queen may even ask my name
As she sheds her skin on stage
I’m seated and sweating to a
Dance song on the club’s P.A…

~*~

If you can go any cheaper

I’ll find you a stumbling vomit drunk in blind alleys

Askin’ for a round of drinks

In exchange for tying stems of maraschino cherries

With your manipulating tongue

And your unwilling flesh that’s just cigarette smoke

I can trespass through over again

But I can never touch, ’cause my heart will only choke

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And if I was any more hopeless

You’ll find me hanging off the stools in backdoor bars

Holding another shivering bottle

Lusting to catch my tenth falling wornout rusted star

Hooking up in insalubrious stands

When all I care about is satisfying imminent attention

No jezebel can be too in demand

Let’s get wasted tonight, regret simplifying the caution

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And if both of us were to crash together

Oh what a shame it couldn’t be when we’re both sober

Let’s just fuck ’til we damage our brains

And tomorrow we’ll be nothing but sidewalk remains

For everything is exciting with no chance

The pain and malicious intentions intensifies romance

Somehow this love affair feels much better

When we’re scratching the backs and sense off each other.

~*~

Well, I’m afraid that I—
Well, that’s right, well I may have faked it
And I wouldn’t be caught dead in this place!
And isn’t this exactly where you’d like me?
I’m exactly where you’d like me, you know
Praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety…

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A Moral Travesty in the Local Cabaret

Girls love girls and boys
(Sophisticated, manipulated)
And never did I think that I
Would be caught in the way
You got me…

~*~

A most arrogant sophistication

Chins tilted to the moonlight gleam

A simpleminded denomination

Surrender control and nitroglycerine

Their fugitives dance and drown

Blue as the cold bodies on rivers red

Heaven catches your nightgown

Assembling philosophies you’ll wed

Harlequin boys applaud cavalier

Ordaining their Divine Interventions

Picasso girls wipe off their tears

On the cathedral altar manipulation

Burlesque drag queens on Maine

Tiptoe under blacklight streetlamps

Wipe your collar of lipstick stains

To a last full show, one night stands

Dignified heroes caress starlings

For you, I’ll shed skin on spotlight sets

This cabaret act is proving tiring

So darling, pray for passionate naïveté.

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The Best Kind Of Mess

Talk to me now while I’m sober
The way that you look
I know it’s almost over
The fighting has stopped
But I’m still so lost
Will you bring me in…

~*~

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend transform into a snivelling mess

Well go ahead—laugh! It’s a total riot when she confesses

That her failing life is fractured into tiny irreparable pieces

The smarmy sceptics jeer, the constructive critics excoriate

She’s an aperture starling, media darling everyone loves to hate

.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend falling apart into fragments very fast

Well go ahead—watch! It’s a riveting soap opera, if you must

When she gets caught up in the viscid webs of predatorial lust

This is her idiosyncratic truman show delusion, she’s so paranoid

She’s spinning circles in the rusty train tracks you laid and avoid

.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend holding on, hanging by a hairline thread

Well go ahead—contribute! Let your personal two cents be said

Tell her that she’s simply beautiful when she’s just left for dead

She’s spiralling into decadence deep and morbid madness divine

Each libel released a sharp paralysing injection in her numb spine

.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend turn into a news story, a penny paid scandal

Well go ahead—ignore! But follow her face on every tabloid rehearsal

She dégringolades further into abyssal chasms of odious withdrawals

She’s sunken, ragged, washed out, enervated, worn out, she’s all alone

Why the hell’s that spindly girl still breathing? She’s a walking skeleton!

.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend’s physique metamorphose into the best kind of mess

Well go ahead—feel sorry now! When it’s all too late to backtrack and reassess

A friend…why do you still even call her that? Pity, you’re so thoroughly shameless

Get her away from the cameras and glamour, away from your cruel bloodied hands

You’ve all throttled, bruised, strangled her noose, you killed her, don’t you understand?

She’s taken the toll now, she’s taken the fall somehow, the least you can do is bury her splintered bones

Let your best friend taste a sliver of peace once more as Death arrives to take her lacerated soul home.

~*~

I’m another lush
I’m another liar
How will I stop
When will I start learning…

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Mister Märchen’s Travelling Cozen Carnival

You think you’re gonna hurt me
Get ready to get dirty
You created this beast inside
Pull the noose tighter
And lift a little higher
‘Cause you’re killing me slow
I ain’t ready to die…

~*~

Mister, cut me a break, what is this strange event that I see?

Must it be what I ought think? Has my wish come true to me?

A sign donning your name flutters, sobriquet painted proudly

A carnival has just arrived in our town? Oh, wow! Oh, goodie!

.

Mister, cut me a thicker slice of your sweetest apple pie

As you tip your bowler hat politely to welcome me inside

To the colourful carnival, yelling out of fun and adventure

Smells of candy floss mingle with sounds of accordion overture

.

Mister, cut me off with elated screams on the rollercoaster

Lay hoops after hoops perfectly on the basketball shooters

Relinquishing my childhood dreams in the spinning carousel

A romantic atmosphere and stunning view atop the Ferris wheel

.

Mister, cut my palms open and read their miasmatic fortune

Raise your psychics up to the Gods and conjure me a Jotun

Sense my aura, read tea leaves, predict my stormy emotions

Promise to cure my limerence with a lavender placebo potion

.

Mister, cut me a great deal and trade my pennies for an airgun

Let me aim at paper targets in simple enjoyment and hopeful fun

The stuffed prized monkeys you keep, I can taste with my fingers

Yet this rigged booth game clearly offers quick profits and no winners

.

Mister, cut me in half with sharpened steel as you claim this as no scam

Make a dove and a bunny appear in smoke, I’ll pick a card, dear magician

Fool me silly and astound me dumb with your clever sleight of hands

Tremendous tricks my gullibility enjoys yet fails thusly to understand

.

Mister, cut my figure down as my body undergoes a horrid distortion

Wavy forms, plump physiques, stick-thin limbs, different depictions

Making funny faces and laughter echoing in the vast hall of mirrors

And I never had to know that they were actually just normal reflections

.

Mister, cut my mind open with your final flourished impressive performance

Rings of fire, ringmasters and lions, amazing acrobats in a gravity defiance

Dancing elephants and bicycle bears, trapeze and tightrope, clowns and ballet

When I applaud for that final curtain and leave, I’m still in an entranced state

.

Mister, cut me off from the tangible world, entrap me in this amazing place

I’m wandering past striped red tents badly lost, like it’s a labyrinthine maze

Like a rat stuck and scuttling harriedly, my scattered thoughts begin to unravel

And you swoop down with a gust of wind, shaking all my respect and marvel

.

Mister, cut my strings and make me dance, call me your ever-faithful marionette

Make me beg for your sole control desperately until you stop playing and accept

Hold the blade against my tongue, crimson and silver clashing in purest sedition

As my balljoint limbs fall apart in a graceless waltz of decadence and perdition

.

Mister, cut me apart, sew me back together, and throw me inside a cell with barred windows

Let the audience pay a dollar to laugh and make fun of this snivelling miserable freakshow

Gander at my deformities, my rejected rarities, my broken traits and finest failures asunder

Proclaim me inhuman, spit in my filthy face, throw peanuts and popcorn, declare me a monster

.

Mister, cut my soul and sanity out, mould them and mix them in a menagerie and throw them carelessly away

For this is what my foolish curiosity has come and garnered, and this is the ultimate price that I will have to pay

This cozen carnival, a deathly deluge of employed slaves and varying circus acts of your victims, doomed forever to stay

Master, you must close up for tonight, for we wish to indulge in our nightmares, and after all, tomorrow’s another fruitful day.

~*~

Tonight, get ready for a fight
So now you know it’s time to ride
My circus for a psycho
Round and round we go,
Look out below
‘Cause I want off this…

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Will Graham

Once peaceful in isolation

Will, are you sure you’re okay?

You don’t seem at all fine

When Jack told you to go play

.

Did Jack push you over too far

And made you stumble over?

Did Alana take your choked heart

And pluck it like a four-leaf clover?

.

Are you still dreaming noises?

What has happened to your head?

Did you listen to the mad voices?

Did you follow what they said?

.

Has your time run out for you?

Grains of sand off the hourglass

But the devil didn’t want you to know

Psychiatrist peppered in stardust

.

Are you over with this mad game?

Cat and mouse with Mr. Lecter

Checkmate sets the King aflame

But he moves both sides of the picture

.

Why did you let Jack control you?

Why did you let Mr. Lecter fool you?

Will, now what seems to be the matter?

Is your sanity crumbling like Graham crackers?

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Filed under Fandom Poetry, Poetry