Tag Archives: scars

One Of Them (Cass & Effect)

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?

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

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

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?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Delilah and the Philistines

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

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.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

scar tissues

Baby, pour over, tell me, are we concrete?
What would you do without
My perfect company to your undressed spine?
And I can hear you drag behind my car by your broken legs
(Swallowing stitches in her sleep as she)
Stole my only view, may I never blink…

~*~

i am your bare bones

and the words that can fracture it

a faked death, disappearance

in the lonely asphalt ash

so undress my bad memories

take off that pretty, pretty, pink dress

and show me the lacerations

the lingering bruises on my spine

of your decayed entertainment

modern anxiety at its brutality finest

and tell me again how bad

all of my imminent injuries were

until i can feel enough

until i am enough

don’t hesitate on backburners

simply make me believe

that the chemicals in my open veins

serotonin, endorphins, tryptophan—

are not just a lie you made up…

like the raised welts on

my broken, praying wrists

nor the unrecoverable night i came to you,

sobbing and begging for gravity

to come drag me under

underwater, underground,

because i was desperate for it to be over

but we crashed in abstract strokes

only one pair of lungs breathed again;

a sordid altercation.

you’re a lucid dreamer, love

and i have an eidetic memory

and this damn world has selective hearing

over gasoline and sunshine

and the difference that it makes

when you light the aphotic city on fire

like a paradox under my skin.

this is my mass hysteria

although i’m calm at the altar veneer

and absent blank, my mind is an

apocalyptic wasteland

and i’m the sole survivor.

so surround my lavender hands

and black out the soft sodium streetlights

and patch up these obscene bones

and simply say the words

to make me forget.

~*~

Listen, I’m the one who made you
I’ll be the one who brings you down
But this will be the last time…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

anatomical dissection: brain

what hurts more,

remembering to forget

or forgetting to remember?

.

you count all the wins

and all the pyrrhic losses

that take your victories under

.

what hurts more,

the scars on your shoulders

or the scars inside your mind?

.

invisible to the naked eye

but a succumbing force that

makes you lose what you’ll find

.

what hurts more,

staying for the sake of leaving

or living for the sake of staying?

.

lock the pain up in your room

and hope this house burns down

with you still trapped inside, crying

.

what hurts more,

all the words that they said

or the words you never spoke?

.

sticks and stones don’t break bones

but splints and cement puts them back

quietly mending what you always broke

.

what hurts more,

knowing too much of everything

or drowning in your own ignorance?

.

scourge for knowledge, miss for bliss

drain the oceans and fill up the abyss

self-hatred fighting your self-defiance

.

what hurts more,

this cold logical ideology

or the lying sentimental truth?

.

it’s a constant push and pull

of devastating dreams and riled reality

inspiring like the rabbit inspires the wolf

.

what hurts more,

overthinking things again

or not thinking about it at all?

6 Comments

Filed under Poetry

anatomical dissection: legs

frustrated red nails

dragged down soft thighs

leaving redder marks

overlapping with older lines

.

red tresses torn apart

like the skin that once flays

leave red-shame faces

murdering a less-violent display.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Failing Light (One Hundred Sleepless Nights)

Do you still love me? I am dying to know
Or did you forget what we shared?
Out of sight, out of mind, I was never even there…

~*~

Above anything else, I would let you bury me tonight.

The stars do not weep in the presence of the moon. Hearts wish not to rend themselves apart and souls no longer magically turn to gold simply because of your silver lining. Oceans remain a mystery, and space remains a final frontier, only left for your lips to discover, and for mine to wonder. I’m fully aware that I wouldn’t chase shadows. You know very well that you wouldn’t hurt the darkness. Nothing else makes sense anymore, but irrationality itself.

Do I mind? Would you care? There is no mercy left to be scavenged in these cold, lifeless hands of ours; hanging by a diaphanous thread, desperately raring to furtively unravel. But I won’t leave. I won’t let you down again. I won’t let this skin be filled with scars that tell no tales, occupied with hurt that leads to blind dead ends, embraced with an eloquent love that never existed. These are but synesthetic bouquets of eternity, laid in an empty grave for the unborn, wilting, wilting, wilted. Only you are the darling evergreen; fragrant, flourishing, faded.

Your voice is the exquisite cadence with which my pulse chooses to hum. My blood dances elegantly at the incipient sound of your hello, and it dwindles into a soft lamenting waltz when that final goodbye echoes, an ethereal lullaby that no deity nor universe can fathom, but it keeps me up from midnight diminuendo until the morning crescendo, wretched by my own asthenic humanity. You are lissome and restless by your personal cozen design. I am revered synthetically in my own chemical lassitude. We are clashing and colliding in the reckless throes of a gossamer accident, writing a halcyon tragedy.

But dear, keep your summery thoughts free of winter miasma. Worry not the deceptive haze of your alabaster reveries, don’t mind the labyrinthine obscurance of my obsidian nightmares, and never fear their contemptuous amalgamation, for I’ll take all of them far away from you, beyond the reach of birthed supernovae and black holes, so you may carry on saving astral symphonies with your lungs, and I can take my last fated exhale with a mellifluent memory. Your bed may be worn-out, but I’ll keep myself warm on the traced outlines you left. And I’ll keep on sleeping. And I’ll keep on dreaming. And I’ll keep on waiting for you to wake me up.

Until then, immortal repose is mine. And yours is immortal repose.

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

blood red, snow white

Wake up in a dream, frozen fear
All your hands on me
I can’t scream, I can’t scream, I can’t escape
The twisted way you think of me
I feel you in my dreams, and I don’t sleep…

~*~

vivid red, the camellias were

in full bloom today,

lush petals on a pillowed heart

.

i was finding my way

to return from tepid tides

breaking away from venus light.

.

are you hiding your needles?

From which i used to attract the

sovereign flies with, fettered

.

among suspicious hostile twitches

and pulled-off moth wings

decaying with secrets in the kitchen cabinet

.

i do not deserve absolution.

I deserve punishment and jealousy

patched upon each humilified aphorism

.

i am no longer concerned if i have

already bled out, or breathed in,

or both. or perhaps none.

.

but i am fairly certain of the

fingernail scars, tracing louvre patterns and

loveless artwork all over my arms

.

restrained; concealed amid furious

ensconcement and violent bruises

almost as pure and as fresh as

.

vivid red, the camellias were

in full bloom yesterday,

lush petals covering a beaten heart.

~*~

I can’t save your life, though nothing
I bleed for is more tormenting
I’m losing my mind and you just stand there
And stare as my world divides
You belong to me, my snow white queen
There’s nowhere to run, so let’s just get it over
Soon I know you’ll see you’re just like me
Don’t scream anymore my love, ’cause all I want is you…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Hold On, Fall Away

Do you know
I count your heartbeats before you sleep?
I bite my fingernails to bone
And then I crawl back under the stairwell
To a place I call my home…

~*~

Hold on, she says, and her suspended voice feels like a serpentine blossom, mutinous choking thorns wrapped gracelessly around the wall of my deflated lungs’ chambers, puncturing them effectively and leaving me gasping for the air that never enters my mouth.

But I can’t breathe anymore, I implore.

Hold on, that simple phrase again, manipulative and senseless, gently caressing the convoluted scars on my wet face like quietly-raining feathers from a fallen divine being’s cast wings, the burning touch barely grazing past decrepit flesh, ethereal and gossamer.

I didn’t want to miss anything, but the wind is chafing my dehydrated eyes. So I blink. I suddenly feel dizzy and nearly fall flat on my back, reveries resting as I attempt to steady myself. Sleep would be so merciful right now.

Hold on, another rousing round to jolt back the drowsy senses of my rapidly-decaying nerves. Each uttered word is like the sweetest taste of corrupted fruit in an exegesis dream, and I can’t allow myself to swallow it anymore, even if I took the first bite of sin.

Don’t make me do this. A foreign voice breaks the muffled barrier, and I flinch in static shock before shamefully realising that the unfamiliar sound was my own. Who…who was I now?

Hold on, the conversation hits like a loaded shotgun with a chipped bayonet, bullet penetrating the back of my head and cracking my skull once, before the sharpened blade cleanly slices through my wandering brain, a merciless double kill for certainty. Bang. Crash. Slash. Crack. Death.

I’m forgetting the colour of your hair now, the dainty lavender scent that follows you around everywhere you flutter, the way your plush lips mouthed serenades that collided and lit up fireworks in my reflection; I’m forgetting the sensation of seeing you, of wanting to see you again.

Hold on, the promenading whisper has amalgamated into an earsplitting scream now, dangerous hedonism dancing in demons and demigods around my shattered ears, past my constricting throat, relentlessly waltzing in wearied circles over and under what used to be the armistice memory of you.

No—My deteriorating vision blurs and falters, cascading and collapsing in iridescent shades of gold and silver, coalescing in glistening hues of diamonds and rubies, fluctuating in pastel blossoms of jasmines and forget-me-nots, all before shutting down into that damning void of sempiternal blackness. The last thing I saw with my weakening sight was her colourless ashen eyes tear up once, twice.

Hold on…was the last thing I ever heard.

~*~

Murder the moment!
My god, I’m the serpent
I’m sorry, I can’t see
That you truly love me…

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose