Tag Archives: plastic

nocturnes, numbers, nyctophilia

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness—and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark. ~Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

~*~

i.) the jealous penmanship

clever words left tears forming in my brain

ones that i have to open up my healing bruises

just so i could let them out somewhere

somewhere my veins wouldn’t be affected severely

(it was late at night, and my stars called out from nowhere)

sensations poured out from every letter and departure,

as it entangled itself with my nerves and wore them down,

and wore them like a dirty dress, and wore them out to town

until they were worn-out; nothing but a few stray threads.

i burned half of my journals when i turned 16 and stopped trying

to imitate being an author, because writing for me isn’t an expectation–

it’s nothing but another puzzling lock without a skeleton key

and because the most delicate daydream wasn’t mine

because selfishness, to me, is not just another bland adjective

because my bones screamed with the weight of a black hole

because your reveries were enchanting. and mine were f a d e d

n o , i ‘ l l  n e v e r  b e  a s  g o o d  a s  y o u

~*~

ii.) softness, like his heart in the shape of a newborn galaxy

i faded into an ugly shade of something that’s neither monochrome nor coloured;

on the verge of collapsing onto the other side of the fence, threatening madly

but never quite having the contemplation to choose a losing side

as i fell down into the blue of a stranger’s wanderlust eyes.

someone else had taken most of that vibrant shade already, but i managed

to steal away just a sliver, a glimpse, an infinitesimal shiver

and it was the kind of lasting cold that froze summer hurricanes

and kept my breaths visibly foggy and crisply sharp with every inhale

(you never warned me. you don’t know me, but you knew me too well. and i never listen.)

i’ll always be an insignificant detail in the cyan tapestry you painted for yourself

and i’ve accepted that long ago when i said i loved you in my nightmares,

tossing and turning on the bed covered in plastic arrogance because

no other blanket felt warm and comfortable enough for my body to sleep on

until then, i could only sink deeper into the fathomless wish that this universe would end s o o n

i t  w a s  a  k i n d  o f  l o v e  t h a t  m a d e  s u i c i d e  s o u n d  l i k e  m u s i c

~*~

iii.) an abrupt goodbye/the guilty party often disappears first

i was mad at something. i didn’t know what it was, but it was foolish enough

for me to take it out onto the embracing autumn sky, on the taciturn smiles that

were supposed to hold me when tempestuous desolation grabbed at my twisted throat…

and on you. you never meant anything. you just wanted to talk, and so did i,

but my tongue was a spilling box of blades, and every time i opened my

wounded mouth to make you laugh, i always ended up cutting you by accident instead.

(friend, even if i said i’m sorry, can you ever forgive me for what i’ve done to you?)

it was an unreasonable apology, and i erased myself because of my own self-hatred,

but not before leaving footprints of a migraine in your head, which you will inadvertently step on,

slip at, and hurt yourself…fuck. i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why i have

to push and pull apart the only semblance of logic in my life, the only anchor

that keeps me from towing away from the tides, the last person that still feels real to me

when everything else has blurred into an amalgamated indistinct static background;

i don’t know why i feel so smothered, when you’re the only attention i’ll ever have and need.

at this point, the only thing we have is each other’s problems, and the way we both

jeered at it, taunted it, and blocked it out with our own shared playlists until we felt better—

but now that summer was just a distant memory, and so was the scarlet artwork we made of it.

you also needed comfort. but did even try? no. i ran away from the colliding wreckage

as if it wasn’t my fault, and i numbed myself out because i couldn’t do the same for y o u

i ‘ m  s o r r y  i  m a d e  y o u  s a y  s o r r y  s o  m u c h . . .

i  d i d n ‘ t  m e a n  t o  d e s t r o y  e v e r y t h i n g

~*~

iv.) the midnight closes. the violent curtain falls.

the cold glow of my computer screen was rude and restless

and it made my fingers promise, crossed and uncrossed, that i would

stay with it until it slips into comatose. i have rinsed my mouth with lukewarm water

a hundred times to try to wash out the taste of stale coffee, but it never came out and now

i’m stuck with it until morning, until another astrological moon cycle, until i lose

myself in the chemical moments of something that’s so artificially natural.

i’m constantly starving myself, stuck between confidence and relapsing withdrawals of

my past life that i thought i discarded when i finally held on to my shooting star,

but it was always tethered tightly to me by a crimson string. and it always probably will be.

i’m alone. i’m friends with people that talk shit to me in the mirror, and when i bite

my chapped lips and draw blood by accident, it almost feels like atonement. almost.

(i got what i came for and i can’t try again. this is what i want…..isn’t it?)

i know that there are people out there making fun of me and rolling their eyes

petulantly as they bask in the trite, whimsical “perfection” of their storybook existence

but not everything has a happy ending, and not every sad story has to end badly.

i don’t know. i’ll never know. i’m tired and i have responsibilities that i’m not

built for, and every crack turns into a break, and a break into shattered p i e c e s

t o m o r r o w  i ‘ l l  d o  t h i s  o v e r  a g a i n  .  u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  t o m o r r o w s .

~*~

v.) nocturnes.

( a n d  i ‘ l l  s t a y  h e r e )

u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  n u m b e r s  t o  c o u n t ,

a n d  t h o u g h t s  t o  f e e l ,

a n d  n i g h t s  t o  s t a y  a w a k e .

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Plastic Brains

The feigned humanity

That plastic lips fabricate

Speaking of sincerity

As the scarlet inside fades

.

How can mechanical eyes

Speak of soul, speak of pain?

How can a monochrome vein

Bleed out in sunshine and rain?

.

Perhaps hands have to be clever

Perhaps they just fool themselves

But just how could a plastic mind

Speak about the truth of oneself?

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first act, insanity; next stop, recovery

“I never meant to hurt nobody
I never meant to hurt you, no, no…”

~*~

acrid laughter is ringing in my ears

good-natured, perhaps, to them

but the sound pierces like twisted barbed wires

straight through the caliginous corners

of my teeth, bared like a regurgitated heart

and almost—if not just as—crimson

as the fucked-over severity in my demented head

but sometimes it feels good to simply pretend

that the banter is a little less than risque

and i let my agitation be fooled…what an idiot.

as i’m sorry plays like a stenographic record

etching deeper grooves in the back of their stares

but never playing the right kind of music

am i screaming a typhoon in your clear day parade?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i want to cut it out

i want to cut my fingers open to point it out

and take all the sharp-edged blame all for myself.

but my testy temper rides on the flexible bullet

severely mutilating this nascent entertainment

that masqueraders and pantomimists have played

for the melancholic, esoteric, plastic actor

and you insisted on applause and receptivity

despite my initial protests against it all

for i am not your contagious chemistry audience

but i surrender my scab blood to you anyway

and keep clapping on and on until my hands fall apart

like a marionette’s lamenting swan song;

like this borrowed skin that sheds itself as we speak.

their laughter is mutating into vicious sneers

stabbing like blunt edges of a mangled fountain pen

and making me grit my shattered teeth—

your fogged-over eyes interpreting it as a smile

amused, but i’m simply bemused by my endurance.

i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m so fucking tired.

of the teasing testing taking terrors tampering

with my dysfunctional mood, its revolution ever retrograde…

it’s not your fault. did i ruin your sunshine again?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.

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D i s g u i s e d · A s · M e

Set free all of the limitations, and suppress the discreet dalliance

Conceal the killer that resides in wait behind this dead end home

Photographs and signatures won’t atone for such plastic romance

And with every beat of your thundering pulse is a right in its own

Enamoured as you stepped on the glass they kindly laid out for you

Heaven may be a whole mess, but hell is still open for you to accrue

With the only retreat in a barren wasteland that paralyses each whim

So drop the honour and storm the weather, it’s right there in your skin.

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All Hail The King

Your cruelty clings to my broken wings
You wrote this in your scarlet letter
You’re a whore for feelings
A touch-me junkie scraping by the skin
Of someone who’s better…

~*~

It’s the way he carries himself

As if the world should bow to him

Each step a dramatic flair

With much regard and self-esteem

.

The way he looks down on people

Like he’s such a special case

With a practiced condescending sneer

Etched on his fist-worthy face

.

The way he degrades and consumes

Getting bites big enough to chew

When he has used and spat you out

He’s completely through with you

.

The way he thinks he’s all there is

And the universe on their shoulders is his

He’s got his friends, got his enemies

He’s got his plastic talent and camaraderie

.

And it’s the way he carries himself

As if he is the king of this whole damn thing

But he’s just a power-tripping man charged with treason

Prepped and ready for his final execution.

~*~

You’ve got it wrong, weakness is the body leaving pain
You like the way it hurts, the scar, the stain
You’re in the gutter, the kind of filth that makes me shutter
What you can’t change will remain the same…

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Plastic Puppy

i toss a toy

quite randomly

to mollify you

amusement spreads

like wildfire

on your chubby face

“dog”, you utter

quite unsurely,

face crinkled in confusion

i smile and say “yes,

dog goes ruff!”

emitting a growl

and the best bark i can do

at the last part

you laugh;

cheery sound breaking

my internal bedlam

repeat “dog!”

and hold the toy

closer to my face

where i could kiss it

in the same way you did

and so i do;

and then i clamp it

in between my mouth

and attack you with tickles

barking and laughing

as you squeal in delight

and the plastic toy

falls away

as we both fall over

in silliness and happiness

on that pastel pink

adorable owl-spangled bed

giggling widely…

this is a nonsensical tale

no one wants to bite

but we are truly barking mad,

aren’t we, child?

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[s]oil

the changes

are drastic

and my writing

feels plastic

off it melts

scalding me

acrid smells

of past reverie

what used to

be a perfect toil

now is reduced

to wasted oil.

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Débutantes & Surgery

Next is a trip to the, the ladies’ room in vain
And I bet you just can’t keep up with
With fashionistas
And tonight, tonight, you are, you are
A whispering campaign
I bet to them your name is cheap
I bet to them you look like sh—

~*~

Bleeding blackest dirt from my severed red veins

Bruises and burst capillaries, tainted bodily stains

Cold cuts butchered from me, trace my anatomy

Contusion and confusion, broken lines in Sharpie

Slice open my skin, expose the deformities within

Serrated scalpels, sewn stitches, so I’d look prim

Gory for glory, inhaling gasses of coldest ember

God’s own image is imperfect, return to sender

Impetuous, callous, welcome to indestructible humanity

Illicit expenditures, the surgical anaesthetic of society

Layered patchwork, labour procedure of natural beauty

Lustrous shade of formaldehyde and botulinum toxicity

Reconstructing, repairing, reinserting rose-tinted lenses

Ramshackle Frankenstein, short repose for all expenses

Plastic barbie heads swathed thick with poison makeup

Plinths of muscle and excess fat filled up to the very cup

Emergency room is losing fast all of its opened vacancies

Exalting for the wicked egos and more expensive vagaries

Manufactured miracles of their moonlighted personalities

Malocclusion of smiles, mad misanthropes for the masses

A sad reality where faux immaculateness is sold by the millions

Abnormal normalcy, appearances incite riots in formal pavilions

Doctors no longer to heal, yet to defy design of decent humanity

Degrade further, a round of applause for our superficial insipidity.

~*~

I’m the new cancer, never looked better
You can’t stand it, because you say so
Under your breath, you’re reading lips
“When did he get so confident?”
Haven’t you heard that I’m the new cancer
Never looked better and, you can’t stand it…

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