Tag Archives: right

Makeshift

Break the parts of my skin

That don’t seem to be bleeding out

A schizophrenic memory

No one could fully understand

.

A word in revolution

No lies, no truth, just sighs

Bruises on icy emotion

.

They make it out to be madness

Ad nauseum, I paint the plastic with flesh

.

Windowpanes screech against

Moonlight, flooding me with false lavender

Tones, but only in eventide

My bones blush under time spent

.

The stars scream. The stars flee.

.

Impressionistic? Or plain sadistic?

The apparitions pass away again

Smitten with the notion, the concept,

Of wrongfulness, of change, of nothing

Of monsters and messy closets

.

I hide, as I always do. I hide.

And I bide my time like it’s downcast silver

Like a broken harpsichord, I play the night—

.

If only that would prove that nothing else I feel is right.

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(lost and) found

why do

i hide you

why do

i even try,

to convince

myself that

what i’m doing

is alright?

.

why did

i lose you

when you’re

just a lie,

and why do

i continue

when i know that

it’s not right?

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Colourblind Memory

And when I see you
I really see you upside-down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around
If you feel discouraged
That there’s a lack of color here…

~*~

It was an easy kind of self-destruction; the one I never had to beg for.

After a few nights of staying awake and listening to cheaply-constructed songs on the static radio, I was already haunted. Copper chain links that stabbed at the fictional horizon and left unstitched scars on the exposed wind. Shy vespertine flowers that bloomed in the most coruscant spectrums, but only when no weeping eye was there to witness their exquisite grandeur and compose concerto symphonies about it. An infinite, arrogant, wakeless kind of blue that rivaled every transatlantic and pacific direction that I chased; but, unlike the oceans of this planet so drenched and cold and jaded to the bone, no one is ever able to cross it, and no one ever will.

And violet. A damnable shade, akin to roses-not-reds and forget-me-nots, that violet. A bleeding, dirty kind of violet that left filthy, undecipherable Roschach stains everywhere. Splattering the bruises of my halted tongue, shading the asphyxiation of my untouched lips, violently overtaking the rock-steady sorry secret that was divulged and diluted all too late. It painted a tragedy that only the most damaged and paranoid artists could understand, and rending shreds of the purest agony down my colliding ribs that not even the most genius maestros and starving dilettantes could begin to dissect; for it was a foreign anatomy. A different unknown. A beyond the beyond. It was brutally twisted inside my veins and gauchely discarded somewhere in between sense and sanctuary, photographed and arrested in another postcard vintage lie. I could write graphite letters at the back all I want, but I’ll never swim away from the indigo waves in front. It was our holiday memory, drowning me again and again and again.

Absolutely useless. It couldn’t aid my breathing. It couldn’t save my sleeping. It was a disease that was highly susceptible only to my atrophied words and comatosed syllogisms—the same unfortunate ones that are now leaving my chafed fingers but never my wornout mind, like you, like you, like you.

Unrelenting. Unsuspending. Unending.

All my colours were inverted. And no one can turn it back the right way.

If there even was one.

~*~

Please don’t worry, lover
It’s really bursting at the seams
For absorbing everything
The spectrum’s A to Z
This is fact, not fiction
For the first time in years…

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Oh, Ain’t That Clever? (The Hundred Dollar Profanity)

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who’s the ugliest of them all?
Severed, crawling like spiders
Injecting poison, now kill the bile spewing
The walking selfish living dead
I turn to rust and you play
In all the filth that you’ve created…

~*~

Sweet milk will still taste spoiled

If the mouth is too putrid and rotten

And barbaric words just don’t define

Someone’s being a “good” person

.

Underhanded plagues dyed the rain

With condescension and redder stains

With a wish that the cleave cuts deep

And that leather flesh will never heal

.

As judging eyes feel the need to gloat

Like skies on fire, the ashy vanity floats

Prison’s good but the abuse feels numb

All hands on them until they succumb

.

It’s fine to feel fine, the need to feel needy

And pride has never been so carelessly greedy

But freedom will still taste like putrid decay

When the body’s too bitter to feel the right way.

~*~

And when your dreams have come to end
How will you buy your happiness?
And when your self is all you have left
With what will you fill your emptiness?
You are the cause of man’s dissolving evolution
Is my heart completely useless?

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No thanks, I’m not hungry.

There’s no one left lying on the second story floorboards
And I’m sure they heard next door, but the bottles are hollow now
And there’s room at the bottom and I would
Take it all back if I could, but I won’t!

~*~

There are rumours at the bottom of my bottle

And the windows are filled with hazy complaints

I’ve got a dollar and a nosebleed left in my pocket

Take a rocketship to the right and a bullet to left

Surrogate phantoms take their place in my head

Because the original ghosts left a long, long time ago

I don’t want to find it, so I lock it all up in my chest

My hands tied to the anchor, but they don’t need to know

There are starving liars at the bottom of the ocean

And the metal submarine has a growing hole on the floor

I’ve got a stick of gum and a bruise left in my pocket

Take the low blows when I go and the gunshot wounds to go.

~*~

Sit back, get my palette wet
Getting mentally prepared
For the consequences
And you know why
Because the neighbors
Have complained damn near every night…

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decisions, decisions

let me decide

what’s right

and what’s wrong

you do it so easily

but i won’t take long.

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How Heartless

I don’t know how to love

Without looking superficial

I feel in the wrong places

And no one’s ever too special

I don’t know how to love

In the way that they call “real”

I set my soul in right times

And no one would ever be mine.

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six days of a kingdom’s downfall; excluding the sabbatical

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing
Roman Calvary choirs are singing
Be my mirror, my sword and shield
My missionaries in a foreign field
For some reason I can’t explain
I know Saint Peter won’t call my name
Never an honest word
But that was when I ruled the world…

~*~

i.

a carnation affectation

a wilted dahlia efflorescent

in the temple about to fall—

ii.

redemption in the fray

a sovereign right surrendered

a prayer lost to the demons.

iii.

who would i be if i failed

these chevalier discrepancies

and gave to defeat my all?

iv.

‘tis nothing but a feint allusion

a fiery sleight of hand with which

even archangels cannot summon…

v.

night cries; a knight is interred,

remains scattered to eventide mourn

and ashes buried under dungeons.

vi.

baleful messengers cease to return

as the crown is abandoned in rusted thrones

towers and castles—and a legacy long gone.

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iv.) intersections.

aesthetic-forest-road-trees-Favim.com-2544080 (2)

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Speed Limit

Offered her a pill and now she yelling
Took her from the hills, now we rolling
Probably get her killed by the morning
Pedal to the motherfucking floor, man
Full acceleration, hear me roaring…

~*~

Driving fast, breaking traffic lights, think I’m going insane

Changing gears endlessly but never changing to the right lane

Right hand on the left end, strap yourself and swallow your tongue

The wrong turn makes my eyes spin like oxy, are you having fun?

Worrying slow, think I’m crashing on windshields and pedestrians

Changing my mind again but it’s too late, and everything’s gone

Right now I’m left behind, seatbelt off and choked on my uncertainty

The wrong way makes my car spin like xans, but who’s up for doing ninety?

~*~

Pop another, now it’s hurting
Sip and driving got me swerving
Book a table, I’m reserving
Now it’s feeling like a circus…

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