Tag Archives: name

Into the Depths of Tartarus

Exhaustion burns madly beneath my temple, at your ever-cunning sacrifice

Of an artificial religion, set the final scene and throw dead blackbirds and rice

To appease the ancient gods thundering malicious incantations inside my skull

Kneeling before your hide, my coldest blood at the altar; do not be appalled

I shall pray in our devotion, mute out the shrieks of steel against ivory bone

And carve out your grecian name in monuments, of a wanderer set in stone

To dispel the seas and calm their fury, to capture lost angels within my grasp

Crush their wings as I assemble your own, and let the underworld be my only judge.

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weltschmerz

the wary thought

of october graves

in autumn sunrise

her name and yours

on an open letter for

the future young, as

old boats unfurl their

paper sails and the

breeze flows north

so often they whisper

.

“oh, i wish you had

never said a word”

their lacklustre ire

lesions seeping into

bandages and coffee

grounds and the very

last time you saw her

alive that day, of the

very last time you ever

felt alive, that fateful day

.

what more is left now?

statues still into monuments

and the gentlest reminder

of a violent decision that

carved another number

into your mausoleum, and

hers—it’s a strange way to

love, to unravel with her skin;

to twist, and to fade, and to

be the breath she always saves.

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initials

dear middle name,

don’t leave me with goodbye

you know i don’t care

much for music for tired eyes

but will they cut me up

into all the tiniest smithereens?

and leave geraniums in

my hair like it’s my sweet sixteen?

.

dear middle name,

i’ll give mine up just for yours

and it’s a funny spelling

one too many c’s and z’s, true

but if we cut it all up and

paste it into something stranger

i’ll leave geraniums in your

lips like we’re still giddy teenagers.

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Interstellar Lovely

Interstellar lovely, with the plaited halo down your back

You make me kinda crazy, you beat my flaxen heart to black

With the way your bow lips move to make a spinning retort

Colliding with my asteroids, tonight’s forecast screams abort

.

Interstellar lovely, won’t you give this girl another chance?

I may not be too pretty, but I’ve still got a fighting stance

Crooked glasses and stray sweater sleeve driving me insane

But she’ll shoot past the stratosphere before I could say her name.

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Shades of You

Grey, that’s all there is now.

I used to be the brightest iteration of alizarin crimson, and I wore my lustrous colours proudly on my chest to disguise the bloody cancer secretly tearing irreparable holes inside my slowly-withering system. So bold and reckless I was, that soon I found myself losing full control and suddenly careening headfirst onto your blue brick wall, and well…the collision was more violent, more radiant, more spectacular than you and I and anyone else could ever begin to imagine. No freshest shade of unhealing bruise nor deepest sour of aged wine could ever compare to the stunning explosion of blinding indigo we left on the scene of the accident, that day. The perfect way your incandescent glows and mine contrasted together and exquisitely showered the atmosphere, it was rather exhilarating.

But like everything that’s been left out under the sun just a little too long, the vibrant hues we initially adored and reverently shared started to quietly fade; akin to a rampant disease viciously working its way past our frail bodies, fingertips first. We could do naught but weep dull stardust as we held ourselves together in the tightest embrace, in the desperate yet ultimately futile hopes that we could still preserve our deteriorating youth—that if we hid away well enough, we could keep even just a sliver, even just a sleepless teardrop, of the resplendent spectrum we once thought we would carry along with the siren songs of this universe forever.

But in the end, it was all for nothing.

Soon enough, you had strangely turned into a serpentine shade of lucid green, and my hazy eyes began to see nothing else but charcoal wastelands and bleeding ash. Oh, how we’ve both drastically changed. And maybe not quite for the better. Still, I don’t wish to stain your newfound emerald gleam with my obscene tenebrescence, so as much as it caused a solemn ache to my soulful bones, I decided to completely detach myself and stay away from you for the time being. Instead, I’ll simply attempt to completely capture your eternal likeness onto pure cotton canvas—resolutely translating all of those clashing galaxies and kaleidoscopic tones into softer stencils and lifeless monochrome.

Perhaps someday, if I blink the awaiting future away and press on my eyelids hard enough, it might conjure back even a stray phantom of the forgotten iridescence that your dull, graphite-sketched countenance used to boast; gentle pastels warmly seeping in and bringing back the dusky ochre in your hair, the cloudless afternoon horizons back in your irises, perhaps even reviving the blushing cosmos of your clever lips, boyish and lazily smug as it twists into an elegant sunflower smile. The worst kind. The kind I somehow find myself missing the most these days.

But for now, grey is the only undertone I unfortunately possess. And it’s the only way I could captivate your ephemeral memory to return home within my gossamer dreams night after night after night, until my tiring lungs finally let go of my last saved breath and I inevitably coalesce into a sepulchral heaven—a bleak, distorted paradise where I’ll be doomed to roam with fellow spirits of black and white, for deathless infinities to come.

And after then, after then…who will be left to remember your name?

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Filed under Prose

pseudonym

all i made was you

not another myth to spare

don’t fake the truth

you’re not designed to care

.

claustrophobic now

intertwined like spiderwebs

zealous—just jealous

elysiums, but not your name

keeping me barely sane.

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Ornate Messes

Don’t react when I tell you
That bright lights mean
Nothing to you
Because no one would know
The sound of a ghost
And I might be something to you
Beyond beautiful…

~*~

aching fingers

and lavender sunsets

a collection of

scrambled letters

disguised as your name

.

dusty lines scribbled

on the back of a

twice-used post-it note

in this long stretch of

afternoon torpor—

.

creaky guitar strings

played out of tune

exhausted calluses

a step in the right key

still proudly smiling,

.

two hours of strange

dreams, and excitement

before awakening;

a walk into stunning

darkness, mere glimpses

.

of moonlit epistles,

coffee after midnight

existential wishes

shooting stars dragging

out hope and lost love,

.

rekindled aspirations

blooming into memory

a song finally taken

to heart, after years of

waiting for the right time.

~*~

My darling, never rest
Until the darker gets
The best of all we had
Can the cold carry on?

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are you holding up just fine?

acceptance

a lead aftertaste

lies upon lies

on the tip of a

spoiling tongue,

rancid promise

vulnerable—

a lobotomy

in third degree

words worn down

devoid of sense

of meaning

of your name

poisonous retrieval

heaving and

screaming; as

vulgar infatuation

takes ahold of

me once more.

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butterscotch

you were in my dreams last night.

it was barely for five minutes, and yet

you still made my insides twist into

a quiet, nervous, childish smile—

when i woke up, i found i had a flurry

of butterfly dust dazing my thoughts

and bitter nectar on my tongue where

your dulcet nickname used to be.

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Filed under Poetry

Pretty Little Thing

Right before you fly you fix the broken wings of
Everything that carries you forward now
Patching up the holes remaining in your word now
I start to question what is real or not, pick apart my every thought
Dig in to a dark place, bury the thought of your face…

~*~

A wish to avoid a blatant lie

To a spine with broken bones

Waiting for retaliation in the

Shape of a forsaken home

.

As mirrors began to whisper

About the drama that unfolded

It all tasted like high tension

Keeping her weak wings faded

.

Fingers forward, burying blame

Twitching petals, her lavish name

Draped in linen, maiden serenity

Masquerading a sorrowful calamity

.

Of an oil painting melting away

In the warmth of this winter fire

Lost palettes ebbing and arching

An abandoned masterpiece dire

.

Grim faces arrested in quiet disgust

As snow fell and tainted mordant black

Onto the pallbearers dressed in drab

Carrying away an eternal chill in her heart.

~*~
Pretty little thing, you know the way to make me weak
But I’ll stand on my own feet
Shame on you for hitting where it most hurts
Shame on me for listening
Pretty little thing, I think you better turn away
My attention is ending…

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