Tag Archives: pen

red as the day she lost her sunset

my pen ceased to move

involuntarily to your soul,

but darling my thoughts have

since never stopped dancing

ever since that fateful summer

when you collided it into motion.

my faith may be a reckless phantom

but my eyes are your scarlet letter

and i’ll always see the world for how

you built it according to your word

of eloquence, of madness, of every sigh;

and i’ll never forget the melodies

that embraced all the darkest parts

Of my liquid nightmares, and pulled

them back slowly into the sunlight

until the nights felt warm with hope again.

i’d call you an angel, if it isn’t overused

and i think you already know that anyway—

but always know this to be the truth:

you may not always be the last thing on my mind,

but darling, you will always be the first.

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Pantomime

Borderline drowning in these messy thoughts
I’ll come down once I get some more
This substance got a hold on me, I’m insecure
I’m hearing voices, what the fuck’s that sound?
I’m going through problems I shouldn’t talk about…

~*~

I put myself in someone else’s heart

And it didn’t beat, no, it didn’t beat at all

My soul’s uncomfortable from twisting

And turning, trying to fit in the desperate crawl

The insecurities taste as heavy as substances

Making my open veins cough up less blood

I just don’t believe in myself as much as I should

And doubts weigh me down when I’ve had

A step away from my eyes and into empty shoes

Which squeaked when I wore them, the laces loose

And the soles were worn down from these miles of walking

I may have gone the distance but I didn’t do the talking

I’m no longer genuine, just as diamonds are always fake

Covering up for my mortalities with graver mistakes

And pretending I wasn’t me, for once I don’t know

What the parts of my anatomy were, how everything goes

The self-hatred whispers things I don’t want to have thought

And my mama tells me I’ve always been what I’m not

Head a mess, anxiety regaled in fanfare intuition

They say life’s not fair without a taste of contradiction

But I’m just trying to regain what I once lost with my pen

Discover all the stories I missed making amends again

I put myself in someone else’s heart, and it didn’t beat at all

But mine only started to breathe when I let myself answer the call.

~*~

I’m not comfortable
No, I just can’t seem to feel at all
I’m not comfortable
So, I’ll take another pharmaceutical
‘Cause I’m uncomfortable…

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writer’s block

i’m up against

a pen that

thinks too much

and an imagination

that refuses to

function.

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summer stasis

Well, I guess I could
Sell some nice things
Or write about how good
My life’s been…

~*~

empty pages

being held hostage

by the sweltering wind

of six years spent

without any due journey

or any further recourse

.

i want to change

to arrest new adventures

with the tip of my pen

but, it seems, another year will go

with me complaining about

nothing but being bored.

~*~

Maybe I should drop it
Pick a different subject
Maybe it’s deliberate
If it’s lacking substance…

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insignificance

You’re losing your light
Everything that was yours
Just does not exist

So don’t even try to say
Sorry for the things in life that
You might have missed…

~*~

i quietly wonder

if i had done anything

wrong to reclaim

another faultful star

.

as i stare outside the window

cascading past endless stretches

of worn paved-roads

and vast fertile landscapes

.

and everything looks transiently gargantuan

.

but i momentarily glance

at the empty bus seat next to me

and i feel rather small again

.

flimsy music in my ears

speaking of infinite sentiments

and i’m disenchanted again

these mellisonant voices are enough

they have to be enough

.

to keep my wandering mind

company against the ephemeral madness

.

i flick my red lighter open

and hold it close—but not too close

to my dying pen; wondering, for

a moment, if the same trick could revive

my spirits like the stuttering ink,

tempted to burn my flesh back to life

.

but i merely stare into the flame—

flickering unsteady still—and blow it out

so it doesn’t have to be lonely

as my heart is right now

.

as i travel from small city

to smaller town, i wonder where

all my friends are right now

how they are all doing

what they are doing

.

and if they’re all having fun

without me.

~*~

Sometimes they say this should
Feel something like fire
‘Til it burns you and you can’t
No, you can’t remain the same
Stay the same, although you know
They say this should feel something like fire
No, I can’t change…

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U n d r e s s e d · S p i n e

Rest, pour into the concrete outlines of my concrete bed

And write me another song about narcoleptic nightmares

We’ll wash away the wasted world with chlorine screams

With the rose you left embedded in your chest, and there

We’ll crash all our pendulum promises into the pavement

Lingering shards on your lips, and lodged deep in my pen

I won’t stay in California and burn the palm trees with you

But I’ll bite down on the truth and listen to your halo again.

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Sleep (is but a dream)

and the words in

my head whispered

(sleep, my dear

you’ll feel better)

but i couldn’t close

my eyes (no matter how

heavy they are)

falling into tonus as

quiet and abyssal

(as the thoughts that

weigh me down)

until my pen no longer

makes sense, fading

and smudging (into an

undecipherable madman’s

meandering laments)

and i wish, and so i wish

for a taste of the stars

(i wish on the sun for some

light to carry home) and

the soft words in my head

whisper (sleep, my dear

after all, there’s nothing better.)

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The Boy with a Cold Star and a Dry Pen

Vices which I taste with every splinter of your desire

I may be dramatic but you’re responsible for my fire

Cold I feel, you’re out of kerosene and I want a jacket

Flair of selfishness as we collide and forget our regret

Underwater as we sing, romantic sirens under the sky

Eternity can wait, our severed hearts ain’t ready to die

Never did I find tempting so fucking sweet and alluring

The misadventures we have, I stow away in reminiscing

Every flaw, scar, and piercing, your criminal soul I adore

Save me darling, how I wish the stars will bring you more.

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happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

i also want

to write about

positive things

and happy thoughts

and dainty memories

full of floral words

and eloquent hearts

dripping like pastel

raindrops off my mouth,

but how can one do so

if all he has is a black pen

piercing the chambers of

his black-bled heart?

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[th]ink spill

the concept

of you

consumes

my pen

i bite the nib

and the

ink throws up

again.

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