Tag Archives: roses

Asylum Fiction

Walk away, in a field of soft roses

Taint of blame and corrupted blood

Pointed fingers pricked on thorns

Carving out olden scars of liquid gold

.

Bloated bodies twisted like vineyard green

Of jealousy, of crushed lies, of purest arrogance

I’m a mere suture away from a finished letter

So cut my chest wide open and read all my sins

.

Surely, these careful feet won’t shatter on glass

That broke beneath the creaking floorboards

Ending the same—trickling droplets of roseate

Infatuated with bliss and miasma, vials of life

.

Almost unattainable, phantom cold to the touch

Picturesque memories sparsely hanging onto the

Dusty hallways crawling with naphthalene ghosts

Roaming, distorting portraits and jagged mirrors

.

And outside the garden terrace, in a field of soft roses

Porcelain bones are buried underneath, blooming with whispered prayers

From a catatonic past, long faded and frayed at the edges

Will you walk away now, or dwell until your soul withers with the seasons?

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a fathomless void

a weight that can only be felt

by breathing in the wrong kind of ozone

in a desolate universe, unraveling into

rust and dirt and long-ago bleached bones

a single pair of footsteps walk

the path, beaten down by phantoms

and mysteries hanging on an unused crucifix

the rearview mirror beckons minds on

but….onto where? onto the myriad lies that

stumble and fall back into rubbles

bruising careless feet and leaving contrived

wishes of contrition and softer mumbles

and alone—alone the blackened eyes atone,

alone the bastard hair sheds like broken roses,

alone the body dances until imminent decomposition,

alone. the man seeks, but finds no symphony amid the empty chorus.

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Mad Mary Lennox

I still remember the world
From the eyes of a child
Slowly those feelings
Were clouded by what I know now—
I still remember the sun
Always warm on my back
Somehow it seems colder now…

~*~

You were the tears I could never release.

I am imprisoned for centuries in an impenetrable ribcage, feeling the lemongrass harshly piercing my calloused feet but never allowing my deprived senses to take in their ethereal fragrance, holding blossoms by their fragile throats and quietly wishing for their efflorescent scarlet to return and splash colour on my filthy grey dress again, and forevermore shackled and watching the suspended horizon; but a mere intangible memory playing tricks on my open lips.

It was beautifully haunting. My demented secret garden.

You alone held the key to the concealed gates. That particular key was crudely carved from roses and bones, finely forged of romance and blood, chiseled from my consumed heart and threaded with my vulnerable veins, but akin to the overflowing ocean of the tears trapped within my tired, pondering eyes, you released me not.

But will I despair? Never. I shall merely smile at your vicious cruelty and wait for patience with all the grace and forgiveness the pallid moon has adorned me with. I’ll peacefully sleep on my bed of fallen feathers and butterfly ashes, and I shall awake again the next day, my marred body still glimmering in a breathtaking fairy tale iridescence, to tend to my own share of bruised paradise and to sing my laments to the ardent stars in the missing sky once more.

Because this exquisite garden shares my every pain, my solitary desire, my one secret, and not simply the very secrecy itself. This sanctuary is mine to hold in eternal memoriam, and in an infinite someday, these silver chains will rust off and unfetter, as the reckless revolution of this damned planet will halt and reverse, away from the sun. And when that happens, you will find yourself starving for sweet freedom and clawing at the iron bars haplessly, forever banished in my grotesque heaven, where all the scathing thorns bear your broken name and all the flowers wilt at the very despicable thought of your nonexistent soul.

And you shall weep. And I, finally, along with you.

~*~

Where has my heart gone?
Trapped in the eyes of a stranger
Oh, I, I want to go back to
Believing in everything
I still remember.

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Filed under Prose

i.) roses & bones.

flowers-grunge-pale-photography-Favim.com-3578013

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The Callalily’s Song

You make me twist in my dreams

Diamonds fall from my eyes as I seem

Like a happy wave of melancholy

With heavy doses of sharp-taste irony

.

I can catch the gaze but not the embrace

I’ll hear the words but I won’t waste

Another second with such distal aches

Shivering in my spine as I break

.

A million emotions that jump in my blood

Are better than vessels drained of god

And my cheeks bruise again from the thought

Of dead roses in bloom and lungs in knots

.

What was bridged in that fateful midsummer

Shall last, interstitial, a transient forever

For perhaps the hazardous sins I’ll commit

In contusions are arrested in vignettes to omit

.

It’s the golden state glow of your undertow

Bringing me under and letting me go

Hidden in virulent sonatas I shall dare to chase

For a chance at hope to see your divine face

.

It may be the perpetual hurt that keeps me awake

And I may reach for sunshine blue but I won’t see it stay

But I won’t ever get tired, no, I’ll let my heart do all the talking

And listen to the rain for lost passion that keeps on singing.

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The Horticulturist

One by one the days fall beside us like yellow leaves
We have no conscience, oh, what we’re becoming
Month by month the rings on our tree trunks
Like old wise eyes grow wider
And winter lends them a dead disguise…

~*~

all the times

that my pretence

falls away to reveal

a dissecting evil

crashing against the

enamouring dopamine

of your crystal eyes

and whenever the bats

residing in my belfry

bite in rabid shreds

as i told you the reasons

why i don’t need the sun

to watch over my lies…

i didn’t know it hurt.

and even when your mouth

moved to speak of the

florid diamonds leaving your

bones with every suspended

breath i took, still i ignored

it, and culled the butterfly wings

you were only beginning to grow

crushing them for my own fool’s

grey stained glass interpretation.

i see my sorry mistake now

what an envious tongue i was

to impede and torture change

and wring them dry in deception

shivving the lunacy fringe deep

in my virulent, violent strain

perhaps the sense was never mine

to keep in mine caustic waste.

you merely wanted roses to

bloom in your pulsating thorax,

but my scissors never gave

you the chance to do so

and a different shade of scarlet

touched your skin that day.

but despite the endless famine

that haunts my soul, there’s

still thistles to be removed,

fertile soil to be revived, and

you handed me the trowel even

when i already lost sourly to you.

it’s another chance to repair all

the misfortune, to mitigate all the

repercussions, and to plant a

thornless blossom in this stygian

garden of choked weeds and demolition.

i won’t count my stars before

they paint the sky with yellow fire

but i can always count on the

misbegotten heart, sparing

another courtesy for the misguided.

no more plucking petals from

shivering deoxygenated lungs,

no matter how temptingly pretty

they may be to my twitchy fingers;

may the poisonous chemicals

no longer adhere to sprouting foliage

and murder them in cold blood,

may the flora in ingenue poetry not

be mendacious and remain untainted,

and pray let this withering, barren

desert of a garden be resplendently

efflorescent and verdant with life once more.

~*~

Now time, like an ocean, knows tide, like a notion
To toss about the house and lose inside the couch
Piles of our thoughts run miles in the dark
Just trying to get home, age by age
We rime with our seasons’ rehearsed routines
Still turning and returning…

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floral notebook

i pluck each petal off

the roses in your faltering

and floral notebook

.

chancing upon every

word, every smudge, every

catchy beat and hook

.

for the girls you kissed

your stars to, for the boys

you laughed with drinks

.

when the days are rife

and navy blue, and when the

midnight’s pastel pink

.

when the songs feel like

a thousand butterflies

chasing rainbows past your feet

.

and the screams endow

glass shards under your skin

and between your teeth

.

i pluck the roses off

your efflorescent notebook

listening to the echoes resonate

.

across the universe and in

a million miles, the scarlet petals

make another heart detonate.

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Dancing with Roses and Resisting Temptation

Bleed me out, I know you’re the first to listen
When I scream aloud
I’m coming clean again, and I will do my best to
Show you who, who I was and who I am
Don’t write me off, please hear me out
My skin is so much thicker now…

~*~

But I must tell you, sweetheart

Blood is rarely so romanticised

These scarlet kisses on my skin

Are veined vanity, lesioned lies

.

Pain must be such a sorry thrill

By risqué reality in rancid roses

A glamour of the red that spills

Like liquid lipsticks and dresses

.

I love the way the slits do smile

I hate myself for being charmed

I love I loathe I lied I lust for lost

As rubious tears keep me warm

.

But each night, it ends the same

More of hurting for less the gain

I get sick of what keeps me sane

Then I forget, do it all over again

.

It might seem decadently pretty

Almost enough to vie for a taste

But those glass shoes won’t hold

When you’re waltzing on blades.

~*~

I feel it in my bones
Not feeling anymore
The writings on the wall
My scars are at the door…

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A Celebration of an Ending

Just look into my eyes

Baptise me with roses

Under the sinful moon

Veil of gossamer laces

.

This ending was ours to take,
Let the sun wail for our sake…

.

All there is to do is pray

Another wayward stray

The path of spider webs

Stringing stars with ebb

.

This ending was ours to take,
Let them sing elegies for our wake…

.

Sleeping silhouettes shifted and awaken

Bones, teeth and wings eloquent broken

So look into my coalescing eyes, darling

Our demons are the only things bleeding.

.

This is the celebration of an ending, immortalise me…
In a farewell toast to the ending of our lost eternity.

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Dornröschen

Your direction two steps I take quietly, you lay motionless; you were asleep
Paralysed, realised, I’m so cowardly, I despise myself for being so weak
Lights appear like the wind they’ve escaped my grasp; illusion, or the real thing?
Though this silence is impossible to surpass…my song for you, I’m singing!

~*~

Mute song soundwaves under the glass

Winds of illusion and desert sands pass

Your encased tears washes over a wave

Crashing consequences, a smile I crave

.

Despite regrets, I leapt past like a wren

Both hands are numb from flying again

My fallen ideals paralysed the unspoken

I’ll burn my throat and drown in chlorine

.

Breaths of briar thorns, awake under moonlight

Silver crown impaled on frail skin and midnight

Angel blonde and devil red, cursed of needle kiss

In a castle of clandestine shadows, deserted bliss

.

Can you hear me sing under the hazy ocean currents?

Pulled away into the depths of an unescapable dream

Graceful curtains dancing, flimsy like a lullaby meant

I know you’re still there, calling out my name, listening

.

Northern lights colliding against silence underground

As you lie past the fray, where you can never be found

Faint and asleep, as time ebbs and crystallises in snow

My heart ceases to find a garden where roses never grow.

~*~

Your voice whispers my name
My silent call, falls so faint
The still past, it will not change
Time just won’t slow down…

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