Tag Archives: night

Don’t Slam The Door When You Go Away (You’re Starting To Bore Me)

Somewhere darker, talking the same shite
I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?
It’s harder and harder to get you to listen
More I get through the gears, incapable of
Making alright decisions and having bad ideas…

~*~

pointless reciprocation, calling up our meaningless demise

you watch over me like a beguiling raven in disguise

crooning, you know I’d kill for those blackberry-bruised eyes

.

don’t need to count off three, two, one—i know what you mean

i’m already there darling, set the fucking mirror on fire again

and decide if you want all the scars pulled off of your skin

.

in the closet, seven minutes, but i don’t need your tongue

to tell the inside of my mouth that we’re both having fun

i swear i’m already out of it, trying to reach for your sun

.

is it under your dirty shirt? behind that crooked smirk you wear?

is it in an open bottle of jäger and a late-night truth or dare?

go ahead and spin it faster and faster, you know i won’t be scared

.

of the monster in the midst, under your bed, against your lips

i never wanted a body, i only wanted to hold my breath before i sink

you wished to be clever, here’s your chance to win me overthink

.

were you trying to lie? handed me a smug smoke to hide it?

my phonebook’s full of strangers, something you won’t admit

but i’ll suffocate on your cancer, still addicted to that bullshit

.

so what do you say, next morning’s only one car crash away

and i won’t ask for coffee or minty words on the pillowcase

i only ask that you keep your secrets well-groomed and safe

.

from their mindless impersonations, falling out of our defenceless paper skies

i watch over you like a commuter in your passenger seat, trying to play nice

go ahead, you know i’d die all over again just to be the only one that you despise.

~*~

Now it’s three in the morning
And I’m trying to change your mind
Left you multiple missed calls
And to my message you reply
“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?
Hi, why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

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somewhere in balington drive

you’re every

city street

i picked tender

flowers out from

the ones that

bloomed from

the footsteps

you left behind

on rough pavement

as sodium lights

slept and doors

closed to the rhythm

of a hypnogogic

reverie—hush

but not quite still

silhouettes shifted

bodies left imprints

some alleyways

left a window open

for latecomers

and lost stragglers

and outsiders

i being one of them

but there are no

open anythings for me

only the bitter taste

of neon grey and

a last-minute wave

as you held your breath

and the flowers fell

from my shaky grasp

but there was no one

else around to pick

them back up

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Hangover

The dawn is rose-coloured

Deceptively pretty

Telling nothing of the stories

Of two empty bodies

.

Last night was lavender-bruised

A sighing aftermath

Telling of everything all at once

And losing out to wrath.

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Fending Off the Barflies

Hard to breathe when you lose control
Hard to live with the words unspoken
I walk away ’cause I got no home
Empty hole and my body’s shaking…

~*~

My brain

Is an uninhabited

Island, dizzy

As a fog

Eclipses over it

And makes me

Amused

Like laughing gas

Raining down

And dancing

At the tip

Of my reckless

Tongue

Fuzzy images

And the thought

Of not ever thinking

About tonight

Or tomorrow

Or anything

At all

Just me

And my drink

And the stranger

Hazy in front

Of me

Stepping out

To stumble

Outside for a bit

In search of

A greener face

Just another day

To erase

Everything else

Impulsive and

Derisive

Spinning around

And not just

The bottles

In front of me

But my

Own foolish vision

As well, I know

It’s going

To turn out

Really bad after

This high

And the fumes

Will blow

Over soon to

Reveal a mess, but

Morning regret

Just kinda

Feels so

Damn nice…

~*~

I’m in too deep, I sold my soul
I’m out of reach and I can’t let go
I’m in trouble, I’m in trouble
I made my way, a dead end road
I can’t turn back so I walk alone
I’m in trouble, I’m in trouble…

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hexanol

i really miss all those lonely nights with you. you wore the moon as a funny mask, and i always laughed at how absurd it was. your perfume reminded me of freshly-cut grass and stardust mixed together, and i was always intoxicated by it. we had nothing else to our names but the purely daydreamed life we couldn’t have together, and the uncertainty of never knowing what the other one is thinking about. all i know is that you’re thinking about someone who’s not me, and all you know is that maybe you’ll never really know who i am and you’ll be fine all the same. it’s arduously painful to miss something so trite and pointless, but i still let it get inside my head every night just to keep me from sleeping, because i don’t even remember what i once thought about before all of this happened anymore. i used to be so cynically clever, both steps stuck to the ground with my bruised hands trapped between my knees. now i’m just another annoying cliche, just another forgotten epilogue in a hopelessly terrible book no one would stop to pick up and read. and only for you. god, only ever for you. because i don’t think my battered mind could still afford to miss anything more than this subtle madness. especially not the plasticine future i’m fully aware i could never truly have for myself.

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Asteroseismology

I see no stars in the sky anymore, darling

That’s because they’ve all fallen to the ground now

And lodged their nebulous shards in between

Those tiny beating hearts and empty restless souls

And names and cities and sidewalks no one will ever know

And these stars are long damaged with love

But they look just as exquisitely pretty as when they

Were once strung up in that infinite tapestry

We call the universe—the same universe where

I wonder why I’m still so caught up in you and I

When we’re only stripped-down parts of a woeful quintillion

An unknown number with hydrogen in our breaths

And I want enough pieces for a constellation, darling

Just like you and them and us and the rest of this galaxy

Will you have slowly mended everything together for me

Or are you just another faded light I will soon have to bury?

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Hanging Gardens of Babylon

It’s the dead of the morning, and I just wish you would come out of

The woodwork, where you’ve been pushing pinecones and daisies

From under my skin. I let the seeds blossom into suffocating weeds,

When you once fervently promised me beautiful flowers and verdant

Foliage like no other kind—but only weak envy thrived within this

Nature, and we both craved the dirt like simpleminded earthworms

Crawling by the railroads just to get trampled on and ran over by

Speeding trains. Perhaps we could finally separate and grovel away

In different directions; maybe I can search for my greener pastures, as

You make your way back to the cemetery fields where you belong,

Wilting and decaying with your apologies in the dead of the night.

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a cup of warm tea; and the aftertaste of trauma

Sometimes I feel cold, even paralyzed
My interior world needs to sanitize
I’ve got to step through or I’ll dissipate…

~*~

the bitter of tea, the tang of lemon—and that subtle hint of summertime sweetness, melting into my tongue in one drowsy haze.

paint-stained hands clutch at the warm mug for dear life, and i take tentative sips and let the aromatic seasons dance around my mouth a bit, as if this very dark liquid itself was my final tether to this plane of existence.

perhaps, in some ways, it quite is.

the effect of sleepiness arrives to swoop me back in sluggishly, allowing me to momentarily lean back and stare blankly at the faces on the wall, all eager teeth and pastel craft paper, curling and fading all the way to wandering oblivion; but only a single smile really captured my absent mind’s attention. i wryly picture how it would look against later impressions of dirty blonde and crystalline azure, peeking rather shyly behind deep laugh lines and a few animated freckles peppered across pale skin, endearingly elusive.

sinking in; and sinking still. the effervescent mania that violently grabs me by the shoulders and dares to push its reckless fingers right in the middle of my tender ribcage, refusing to cease digging around until it finally hits something vital. lung, artery—the unfortunate heart itself, perhaps?

but—as i am melancholically assuaged—i am sure it will find only a hollow cavity where a beating organ used to rest. disappointed? not really. i’m painfully aware that already long ago have i been deemed one of the young naivetes who willingly sold it away, to someone who didn’t even know they were searching for damaged antiques. i practically gave it away for nothing.

and yet, where is it now?

is it gathering cracks and dents in someone’s mantlepiece, within a dusty old bungalow? is it buried lost under a child’s messy closet, along with broken toys and past innocence and all their other outgrown things? perhaps, has it already been traded away by its secondhand owner without a brief hesitant thought or a pause of chagrin, in exchange of a better, prettier, newer one?

ah, no matter…no matter. i no longer feel it anymore, anyhow.

cosmic snapshots. a feline grey and glimmering yellow eyes. lilting snatches of an unwritten song dedicated to the moon. murky rain dripping rhythmically from the plastered holes on the ceiling. a perfect pink photograph more potent than any flavour of tea or dosage of coffee, keeping me up well into the witching hours and then some. just another wordless poet. just another tired pen.

your bitter blue. my summertime sadness. the promise of morning, and nothing else.

~*~

And you know
You’re a terrible sight
But you’ll be just fine…

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The Cadaver’s Requiem

the abyss is your wornout teeth

creaking and gnashing at four in

the morning—deathly eves whisper

in alluringly sweeter nevermores

as your mind draws a point blank

chalky and arid, the rewind is set to

fit the blame and delirium quite sure...

lights dragging the diabolical taste

of cancer and firelight away to hell

as it burns for the hearts of infidels

though carry not the cursed hurt nor

wretched inferno that only means to

submerge its sharp, bleeding claws

deep down into your tender sternum

to slowly pick your entrails apart as it

would a grand and delectable banquet;

cerise mucilage trickles in between the

crook of your damned eternal frown,

moulding your seething madness into

a scream of inscrutable evisceration.

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blizzards

it’s 3 a.m.

why does it

still hurt

everywhere

nowhere

now here—

months don’t

fade like

you do,

like your

blue so vivid

sweet oh sweet

oh no…oh.

why do i

do this when

i know it’ll

only deprive

me of oxygen

bruised skin

lost in your

aether, cold

forever

and ever

and ever

and never.

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