Tag Archives: scars

Notes For Artorias

Stay strong, love.

You’re worth more than you care to know, though the world’s hellbent on letting you go. Don’t let them steal your present throes, for soon you’ll be the only glow; the firmament it seeks to find what’s on your heart, what’s on your mind. So dare to blunder, dare to dream, wash out the scars upon your skin. Stay strong, love, though you are spent—

Stay strong, love. I know you can.

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Filed under Prose

Last Answer

You see I’m wasted
I can’t quite get up yet
You see my head’s off resting
In this delusional stare
The room kept spinning and spinning
And spinning and spinning
And I’m a fucking mess…

~*~

this is the silent kind

of slow suicide—

the one that withers

you from the inside out,

the one that leaves

no tear nor bloodstain

on the canvas of your scars,

the purest kind where

there is no solace,

no escape, no more cry for help.

only a suffocating scream

welling up and banging

against your ribs,

begging to be felt, to

be heard, to be let out now…

but you are too empty,

and to let it out is to free

yourself completely

from all the numbness,

all the questions, and all of the

fucking weight you’ve been

carrying inside your mind;

dragging you down

fast into deep quicksand.

and if you allow that,

and you allow yourself to float,

and you allow nothing else

to keep you from holding on,

would you do it?

would you take the chance

and completely slip away, instead

of still suffering from the

slow kind of silent suicide?

~*~

So I closed my eyes
I shut them so tight
To witness explosions
Of pure colour and beauty
The room kept spinning and spinning
I start to think a little differently
At what we are
I watched the colour drain
From the world that day…

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phantom boy

don’t you go,

phantom boy

i’m still not done

painting your portrait

to hang in my walls

long after the house rots,

long after i’ve passed away.

they said to let you go

for you’ve already found

your bluest heaven

where you can sleep with

fleecy floral angels,

but i don’t think i could

let you go that easily.

i want to capture you,

your ethereal silhouettes,

your faded outlines,

your scars and scepticisms,

your details and blurs,

and your coalescing heart.

because i still have mine,

phantom boy

and it beats angrily—

refusing to let me rest

until every colour, linework,

and careful brushstroke

is immaculate and

tastes tangibly of you.

i know you wish to leave soon,

phantom boy…

but won’t you please stay

and spare me just

one last masterpiece?

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crooked stars

I braved treacherous streets
And kids strung out on homemade speed
And we shared a bed in which I could not sleep at all
‘Cause at night the sun in retreat
Made the skyline look like crooked teeth
In the mouth of a man who was devouring us both…

~*~

i defy you, stars.

i want to defy you.

but how could i do that

if i could barely defy

my own skin that i wear?

my own skin that i tear

until its appearance is

beyond any form of recognition

beyond any form of salvation

but i can’t go outside and

live a normal life without it;

i still have to wear it

despite how wornout, how

bleached, how damaged,

and tattered with moth holes it is.

so for a moment, i’m ashamed

for a moment, i feel sorry

that i lost control enough to

shred apart the thinnest veil of

a sanctuary that i have left,

and no amount of careful stitches

will return it to former beauty;

will return it back to the way it was.

you defy us, stars.

you need to defy us all—

despite how much pollution

there is in the sky to

render you lost and numb,

you cast the ethereal light of

your glowing skin upon

the pale atmosphere

and leave quaint scars

over our ugly, filthy ones.

don’t defy me, stars…

please don’t ever defy me.

everything’s left for dead now.

you’re the only one left.

~*~

I’m a war of head versus heart
And it’s always this way
My head is weak, my heart always speaks
Before I know what it will say
And you can’t find nothing at all
If there was nothing there all along…

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Andromeda

Can anyone reveal the bloodstains

Hiding underneath my torn lips…

Would anyone kiss it all away?

.

My thoughts are arrested at gunpoint

As if they were guilty of something—

.

But the crimes hanging my crown

Heavy on one side are nothing new

I’ve already paid for them time and time again

But why am I still being punished?

.

I can’t escape the incarceration from

What everyone else calls their brain

Try as I may to scrape off the slivers of light,

A jailbreak only makes for broken bones

And a rather crueler atonement…

.

I’m crossing thin lines inside my head

And all over my skin, precarious and fatal

Until humility becomes my illness

.

And manipulation my only chapel of truth

.

For I am no longer human; rather

I am simply a galaxy of constellated scars

.

But not a single one coruscates any longer

And my flesh becomes just another dead star

Extinguished quietly in the infinite darkness.

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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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One Of Them (Cass & Effect)

I see it in her eyes, that girl is lost
But Cassie if you stay with me, I’ll never stop
Cassie’s been waiting too long
The drug in her veins is too strong
She fell in love with the medicine she’s on
Yeah in a matter of minutes her mind’s gone…

~*~

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You don’t dance in your dress and do ballet twirls

You dye your hair green and wear orange shoes

You’ve got nothing to live for and everything to lose

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You don’t wish for princes or a dumb fairy tale world

You cut off dragon heads with your silver blade

And the blood is drank in a midnight pub promenade

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

They spill acid on their tongue until their vision curls

You only swallow tablets to avoid feeling dizzy

When your heart feels wrong and your brain feels frisky

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

They’ve got their life together, kiss and tell like bores

Picking out the sweetest bees and tasting the sweetest honey

Oh, aren’t you sick of that bitter mouthwash, honestly?

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You don’t need saving from another magical curse

They call you cynical, but being realistic’s not a crime

And those bedless boys don’t leave you tongue-tied

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You got a pistol for a lipstick and a deadshot hearse

You’re never available, you’re never there for the asking

You scare them all off ‘cause you’re “too interesting”

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

Your fingers are broken, but the last time makes the first

How normal, how nice, just a suburban heist in pink stunning

You’ll be the cat burglar melting down faux promise rings

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

While they sob about their stories, you scream at yours

Pluck at the metal strings ‘till your calloused fingers tear

You’ve got a pain in your voice that no one wants to hear

.

Cassie you’re not like the other girls

You don’t get yourself right, wear those scars for the worse

Your mouth’s twisted in a sneer, you’re a bitch in cold dressing

You fight without the bruises and being alone is kind of your thing

.

Cassie you’re not like, and you’ll never be like the other girls

Your mama raised you like that, but hell ‘cause it didn’t do you any good

You’re not stupid and lovely and crazy and flowery like those other girls

But Cassie, don’t you ever wish sometimes that you don’t feel so jealous?

~*~

She left a dent in my heart as she drove
With her car into my life, though
She tilt her head to the side, what a night, yeah
And Cassie, don’t you overdose.

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split-second thoughts in a night that never seems to end

I float there, transcend time, I wanna capture it accurately
I wanna know what the color of the blood was
Spilling out from the tarp onto the concrete
I wanna write it all down so I can always remember
If you could see it up close how could you ever forget?
How senseless death, how precious life
I wanna be there when the bullet hit…

~*~

the room seems to get colder. is it just me or am i dying?

fingers locked on empty biro, waiting for something bad to happen

“what are you so scared of?” the bones in my body scream

like i wasn’t simply bleeding, like it wasn’t just a dream

well, i’m scared that i’m useless and i’m fragile and i’m weak

and i can’t ever justify myself for everything that i feel

i’m scared that i don’t know what my brain is telling me

that i need some medication just to feel a little more sorry

and i don’t want to submerge and i don’t want to stay up

they tell me to cut it out but instead all i hear is cut

and i’ve had enough of scars and i’ve had enough of crying

but the windows are all dark and i’m still alone not trying

to change what i can conceal at the tip of my tongue

and the words that i’m struggling, still struggling to understand

and i create these bold distractions and pretend for a while

that hell isn’t a few steps over, ready to greet me with a smile

but when the truth comes crashing down, it’s all i can do not to crack

not to break myself overthinking and bend until it hurts my back

because there comes a point where enough is not enough

and the walls start closing in and the ceiling starts to laugh

so i step outside and wish for rain, but just like everything else

i ever wished for and wanted, it doesn’t come true to end this hell

and so i gaze at the stars to comfort me and simply calm me

and so i gaze at the stars to keep my mind off suicide

and remind me of the times when i didn’t have to wonder

why i look at the distant lights in those times when i remember

that the dark is nothing to be scared of except when i’m inside

waiting for the final answer that turns out to be a lie

as my coffee’s getting cold and my skin is getting tighter

i’m suffocating with each breath and each burn on the cigarette lighter

my twitches getting frantic and my pulse is a heart attack

beating to rhythms of “when will someone come to take me back?”

no, i can’t sing to save my life; i can’t even save my life

‘cause i’ve spent it all on daily lessons about wasting out the fight

and i’m still standing outside losing, when the sun overtakes the horizon

with the only force left in the world and the energy to go on

but i’ll wait for the end, even if that takes more than a million years

until i’ve turned into a monument and crumbled but the ending isn’t near

because i’ve contemplated and i’ve meditated and i’ve prayed to every god

but my eyes are a little blurrier and my palms impaled on metal rods

striking lightning, never raining, an automatic impulse sleeping in my bed

everything sounds a little too schizophrenic when they’re all talking in my head

so when i finally find the strength to step back into that empty room so cold

i found that the temperature was the same deadly dull, and i still do as i’m told

and i’m still tired of everything even if everything’s just a fictional retelling

in my head, in my sleep, as i dream, as i wake, as i live…is it just me or am i dying?

~*~

I felt the burden of murder
It shook the earth to the core
Felt like the world was collapsing
Then we heard him speak
“Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself?
Can I still get into heaven if I kill myself?”

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Delilah and the Philistines

My mental image impaired
Undid the braids in my hair
I rain destruction in the fight of my inner feels
Remove the tricks of the trade
You’re just alone on the stage
There’s no witness fly your soul
Through the windshield…

~*~

She breaks all your fingers and she calls it love

She’s got the eyes of a demon with the hands of a god

A delicate masquerade, dress lined of backbones

Sentencing the innocent to hang by her good intentions

.

She sleeps in a bed of casualties, a murder house designed

To lure in the chains and incarcerate her psychosomatic desires

Picturesque saint with a stolen halo falling off asphodel hair

Lips of asbestos and reflections of disaster on her morning wear

.

“It’s all for your good,” a sultry lie, “have faith in no one but me.”

Keep the strings attached on your neck, deflecting her own failed sun

“You’re never going to be satisfied, why do you even try, sweetie?”

The automatic letter for the clockwork machinery she calls her lungs

.

She breaks you down and breaks you apart and she calls it love

She’s a philosopher without the sagacity, she’s a surgeon without the blood

A desperate manipulation, exposed body lined with cheating scars

Sentencing the world to hang by her bad intentions just because she lost the war.

~*~

Damaged pride and vulnerable
All my fears are open now
Never thought I could hurt you so hard
Staring at my hollow phone
Wondering if you’ve found your home
Feel like I deserve to die alone again…

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insensitive

today i slammed

my thick dumb head

on the hard concrete wall

until it bled and bled

because i was just bored

because i felt dead

because i’m too impatient

and made of pure lead

but it wasn’t as cool

so i moved on to needles

stab sharp pricks on my hand

as i made up a riddle

and the red lighter, it did

such an amazing job

it was quite a burn—literally

and these blisters i’ll have

for the rest of my life

just like the scars i made

all from yesterday and today

with the edge of my blade

no, i don’t like the abuse

i just like the pent-up violence

and if i had to take it out

better me than anyone else

so fucking call me masochistic

it’s not like i’d feel insulted

or maybe i will—try me

if that works, good job, friend

‘cause i’m just too numb

and the pain is only fun

when you stop caring about everything

and start aching for the gun.

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Filed under Poetry