Tag Archives: notice

Nightlight

This headache could be ended right now

And not a naive soul would even notice it

Besides the bedroom walls that whispered

About the blunt blades and sharp knuckles

That passed by them when every midnight

Grew dim and solitary and far too mindless,

And the innocent child that held violence as

Their only form of staying awake to stay alive

Caused them pain over and over and over again.

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Neurotic

Sadness is sadness

Until it’s reversed

Frowns turn to madness

And smiles perverse

.

Writing is writing

Until a mind notices

Words turn to endings

And stories to sense.

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going, going, gone

Why does it feel like home when I’m lonely?
I always found on the solid ground
I was tripping away from space and time
I don’t really mind that I’m slipping…

~*~

would they notice

if my eyes faded away

and i lost my way

to the beckoning light?

the constructed highways

and hanging bridges

i still have to traverse are

too treacherous for my feet

and i can’t drag it out

watch me fight back

my shoulders straining to

remove the weight of the world

from its teetering blades

and yet i fell off the balance

waiting for the end of hell

in the beginning of the creation

closing my open heart

in this faceless underwater

i’ll feel anxiety again if i resurface

so i’ll embrace the cold and let

myself sink peacefully

all the way to the bottom

soothing the burns in my tongue

and the wait that manifests

saying i’ll jump off if i’m far too lost

and no one could come with me

to the deepest end of nowhere

where no one could reach my hand

and pull me back again

into the chaos they call home

who knows if i could still return

maybe i’ll just disappear for a while

after all, no one would notice.

~*~

We could disappear for a while
We could disappear if we’re going far away
It’s not running away, we were never meant to stay
In the first place, we could disappear for a while…

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tectonic platonic

a subtle shift

has occurred…

barely noticeable,

but enough to

crash continents

and set our islands

out on a slow drift,

sending us far away

from each other.

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Amaurosis Fugax

Another place I find to escape the pain inside
You don’t know the chances, what if I should die?
A place inside my brain, another kind of pain
You don’t know the chances, I’m so blind!

~*~

there it goes again

the smile that never

means a damn thing

a laugh that holds a

flickering candle to

hopeless clamouring

cry for help embedded

at the patched bones

i call my fucking skin

the desire to be noticed

burns like the alimony

of another divorced sin

now i daresay apologies

because i will never have

a chance to fall and beget

the densities of bellicose

minds fracture skulls of

bereavement and regrets

as my tongue is relapsing

against scimitars again

don’t any of you even see?

i’m breaking and falling

like strands of deluded ice

spare me a fool’s fantasy

please look for me and peer

further and see the cryptic

cyanide, leave it unlocked

please look into my eyes and

sense my anguish before my

vision turns permanently black.

~*~

How deep can I go in the ground that I lay?
If I don’t find a way to see through the gray
That clouds my mind, this time I look to see
What’s between the lines!
I can’t see, I can’t see, I’m going blind…

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Invisible Hands

When all you’ve got is these four walls
It’s not that hard to feel so small
Or even exist at all…

~*~

Senses desensitised, screaming silently, chained to my own body

Blindfolds and folded gags and covered hands stifling me

There’s a trap in my soul, shadows eclipse my heart

Within the midnight of my mind lies a sky, starless and dark

.

For the words I can’t speak drips like cyanide off my mouth

And it tastes more bitter and deadlier than poison when I’m unable to shout

Lips stained scarlet, eyes tear-stained, as suffering festers in doses of pain

Manacles fettered to my sanity, I can’t set free, here I’ll remain

.

The unsaid ferments in my tongue, and drowns the abyss and pierces the glass under my skin

Every nerve, every vein, every shiver, every twitch, every beat of my pulse is rebelling

For the taciturn glance that tells of a million rampaging emotions, I can only hope you understand

That I’m not at fault for this cruel affliction, I’m simply being held back by invisible hands.

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The Tale of Vega and Lyra

“Quand on a pas ce que l’on aime, il faut aimer ce que l’on a.”

“When one doesn’t have the things that one loves, one must love what one has.”

~*~

I am, most inarguably, the brightest star among our constellated cluster

My incandescence and radiance rendering those beside me quite lacklustre

But all my kerfuffled pride seemed to fall and my skill seemed to diminish

As I peered further than I ought to and found you, surging me with a zealous finish

.

I attempted to elevate myself, to glow brighter than several masses of exploding stars

Perhaps I was jubilant of your thoughts, or perhaps I wish to have been noticed

But despite my gradient brightness, you’ve never picked me up under your radar

As I tired of this game and my lucent forms gradually simmered to a conserved niche

.

Yes; though my recalescent rays have never succeeded to pierce your distant, algid core

I’ll still keep on burning, I’ll keep conflagrating ardently with the splendour of a million suns

Though the unborn future will surely come where I’m surpassed by a star brighter more

Fait accompli, there’ll always be a resonating echo in space when I was the most candescent one.

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from a writer who can’t write, to a friend who doesn’t care

Sometimes I cry so hard from pleading
So sick and tired of all the needless beating
But baby when they knock you down
And out is where you ought to stay…

~*~

i’m never enough.

every time i build

my invincible walls

back up, you shatter

it with a crashing

sledgehammer

and a glint of your

candy fucking teeth

you’re so goddamn eloquent

an angel with a seraphim

choir voice, heavenly

and i’m just a shitty

raconteur, a useless dry

quill pretending to be

a writer, a croaking bullfrog,

a clean cut nothing

vying to be the something

you would notice and

admire back, and maybe

even e n v y . . .

but no, don’t read

the lines in the wrong

perspective, oh no

i adore you so much

darling, that it turns

my heart into chiseled

stone and devours my

lusted guts like acid

in my abandoned brain

for your creative spell

is my personal dante’s hell.

but this jealousy

hurts so fucking good

that i find ways to

compare, contrast

and inflict pain on myself

emotionally, mentally

p h y s i c a l l y

desiring the day you

finally notice my scars

and compliment them

and i’ll feel fucking

revered and glorified

by a cheap side remark

by a person who couldn’t care

to a thing with ugly taint.

am i really so insecure

as to resort to low blows

and pathetic attention whoring

to feel a little better

about my blithe existence?

F U C K. Y E S.

because no matter how

many beautiful words

i bleed in silver and gold

from my pen and

into the blank canvas,

prose, poetry, stories, lies—

i’m just never enough

to make myself worthy

for myself…

no, i’m never fucking enough

for you.

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A Box of Sharp Things

Please do not

Notice the fresh

Scars on my skin

It’s nothing—

My clumsy hands

Just slipped on a

Box of sharp things

Yet again…

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friction

a shoulder grazed

untouching friction

a backward glance

a wordless communication

silent discourses gone

it never meant so much

more to a simple stranger

who needed some complication.

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