Tag Archives: scream

ritualistic envy

20200213_020139_969

sinking feeling

settling

spirals rise to

the cold surface like

sweet seltzer in a

glass, then tipped over

make it last

stomach acids

feeling placid

feeling rancid

left aghast

.

sinking feeling

screaming

stipples reek of

rare senescence, faint

scented like for the

mass, bold incenses

yet won’t last

sickened silence

feeling spastic

feeling plastic

left aghast

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In Moratorium


[ ∅ . ]

“ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ sᴛᴀʀғᴀʟʟ
ʙʀᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇᴀʀs ᴀɢᴀɪɴ
ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʜᴜʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏʟᴅ
ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ
ғʀᴏᴍ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ
ᴀɴᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛᴀɪɴ
ᴡᴇʟʟ, ɪ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜᴏʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ…”


[ I . ]

You are arcane desire, and influential mania, and the sweetly vulgar taste of expired novocaine hanging above my quivering tongue like eden’s forbidden fruit. You are the contagious, infected swelling beneath the base of my throat that I madly vain to scratch away with both trembling hands, that I constantly want to carve out with a blunt scalpel in a resolute fit of psychosis. You are the deliberate misspelling of a foreign name that sounds frustratingly familiar, but only ever-so vaguely. Not close to a centimetre, teasingly grazing tiptoed silver slippers and half-buried memories. But not quite there yet.

ARE YOU LISTENING?


[ I I . ]

The resonating scream beneath my temples is starting to taper off into a sound akin to the mewling of a crippled fox; gunpowder and bullet hole smouldering in one leg, a rather patient hunter quietly praying by its burrow, steady fingers clasped tightly to the trigger as it sets up the final triumph with a whispered amen. It might just be from the severe blood loss, but my darling hunter, your gentle trilling call sounds almost alluringly enticing to me now. Me, a clever, cunning fox. You, a foolish, bumbling hunter. And yet you always seem to victoriously capture your kill in the end. Am I your final trophy head to be displayed in your cabin with the grandest fanfare, or shall my carcass simply be ferociously gutted and the scrapped remains fed to your rabid, starving dogs?

WHICH ONE SHALL IT BE?


[ I I I . ]

You are convoluted ecstasy and LSD and heroin in its rawest form, a most potent kind of prescription drug that instantly presses through my arm like hot steel and directly flows into my veins—though the hypodermic needle is missing and the vigil candle has completely melted away into stained tears hours, perhaps even weeks ago. But it is incredibly easy to lose track time with you, is it not? Every inch of the rampant hallucinogens traces highways back and forth on my scarred flesh and all over the wrinkles and grey matter of my deliquescent brain, smoothening out track marks and neurons alike as it gradually transforms me into an obedient porcelain mannequin. Just for you, I’ll forget to exhale, so let your guilt swirl through my charred lungs for all it’s worth, and I won’t suffocate. I promise.

DO YOU?


[ I V . ]

There is a new emotion blustering within me as you speak; something that feels like crudely sewing obscure adjectives on the underside of my clavicle, something that I don’t think anyone else with four chambers in their heart is supposed to ever feel; lest one of it inevitably clogs up and withers into paralysis. It renders every paranoid afterthought blindly unresponsive to the rest of my starving body, and sleeps right next to the nerve that could send me straight to comatose if pressed the wrong way. It takes the tiny spots from below your right cheek and collides it together into an explosive myriad constellation, an overwhelming universe that barely begins to abstract the way your unfathomable soul works. It is you: ad infinitum, deathless, enraptured. And me stumblingly trapped in the middle of it all, mere insensible creature hysterically perplexed by your stark impossibility. Dare I ask…dare I ask you why…why this is and should never be? And if I do—god help me if I do—

WOULD IT EVEN MATTER TO HAVE EXISTED AT ALL?


[ Π. ]

“ᴡʜᴀᴛ’s ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀsᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ sᴀʏ?
ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴀʀᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ɪғ ɪ sᴛᴀʏ
sᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏᴏᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ
sᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏᴏᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ
ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ? ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ?
ᴄᴀɴ ᴡᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ
ᴡᴇ’ʟʟ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʀs ᴄᴏʟʟɪᴅᴇ…”


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Filed under Prose

Diesis

i revere you

with clenched jaws

grinding bones

scream, scream

.

ulysses defeated

a sisyphean darling

crushed by mere pebble

and then over again

.

arcana uncovered

red eyes and whitecaps

cigarettes after dark

hypanthium reborn

.

or apoplectic laughter

in a shockwave cadenza

and a swindled affair

wet milk and ballet

.

luxuries losing out to

sensationalism and

tabloid embolism, finding

adverts for martyrdom

.

black flies swarming

on the gloom of my

eyelids, lithium to fend

off the vulgar answer

.

saving the worst for last

submerge all the colours

to confess before the lie

here comes the hurricane

.

yes, i revere you with a

ruthless antagonism

but to love you, mon cherie?

i wouldn’t ever dare.

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pseudonym [7]

aspirate, my mouth pleads

nodes choking as i scream

decompose before release

yesterday resonating again

cry for help, cry for the light

i fight to appear like i’m alive

zombie mind, escaping fate

ectoplasmic blood i irrigate

killed by myself, for my sake.

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Filed under Poetry

Locked-In

Tell me, did your throat close up

When fingers wrapped around it like

Marionette strings, spindly and ready

To be pulled and consumed, or did

You get a final chance to scream?

.

Did your dear friends pick up your call

Or did your neighbours come a-knocking

When you showed up with purple bruises

On the underside of your crooked blank stare

Or your the therapist dismiss it as insomnia?

.

When the comatose finally began, and your

Rigid flesh contracted as if doused with ice

Water, as you didn’t even take a hot second

To shiver and whimper, dreaded rigor mortis

Taking over, did you try to wake yourself up?

.

Tell me, were your glassy eyes still open

When they stuffed you in that metal box

And the starving flames licked at your body

God’s merciful wrath your only sanctity, or

Were you lucky enough to blink just one last time?

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Filed under Poetry

treachery, and then some

i’m the disconnect

the reset in the corner

of a lacerated brain

a troublemaker with a

causeless cause, if

only to destroy, if only

to wreck and rectify

if only to be the liability

that leaves beggars

and bastards cursing in

the end, cursive cry

hide myself with gaslight

to burn another home

and thrill all the stars with

these glinting claws

and fever dreams, allowing

me to pluck them out

and crush the last remains

beneath my own sins

so disconnect me—before

i scream once again

before their clocks retreat

after i’ve caused the

shame which left my own

bruised head in ruins.

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Filed under Poetry

The Victim of the Hour

Take the empty bullet hanging from my neck, why don’t you?

Why don’t you? Just take and lodge the last remaining pieces

Of the picture on the wall (where you used to pound your fists)

Into the judged severity of my severed jugular, maybe that

Will mend it medicine man, maybe you will find me again

(Barely breathing) Barely breathing just after that horrid sound rang

Through the night? Yes, through the night! The neighbours’ screams

Were not much louder than mine—pity—but it isn’t an awful contest

Just injustice in motion (you see) and you killed the only person

That was trying to set you free. Free the trigger, why don’t you?

Why don’t you? Are you scared they’ll come after you, after me?

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The Cadaver’s Requiem

the abyss is your wornout teeth

creaking and gnashing at four in

the morning—deathly eves whisper

in alluringly sweeter nevermores

as your mind draws a point blank

chalky and arid, the rewind is set to

fit the blame and delirium quite sure...

lights dragging the diabolical taste

of cancer and firelight away to hell

as it burns for the hearts of infidels

though carry not the cursed hurt nor

wretched inferno that only means to

submerge its sharp, bleeding claws

deep down into your tender sternum

to slowly pick your entrails apart as it

would a grand and delectable banquet;

cerise mucilage trickles in between the

crook of your damned eternal frown,

moulding your seething madness into

a scream of inscrutable evisceration.

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Filed under Poetry

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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I’ve Got All This Blood On My Hands (And None In My Body)

Stay out of the light or the photograph that I gave you
You can say a prayer if you need to
Or just get in line and I’ll grieve you
Can I meet you, alone, another night and I’ll see you
Another night and I’ll be you
Some other way to continue, to hide my face…

~*~

I wanna turn your insides to white (say it ain’t so)

So it looks good on my bedroom walls (black, blonde, red)

My heart’s been bleached by the tidal waves (so wash me out)

I wonder if it had any colour at all (maybe not)

.

(So they say that the switchblade is better than the sense)

Well then, let’s see how you look in basketcase drag

(So they say that all this praying won’t make you a saint)

Well then, let’s see how you look when it goes bad

.

It’s not profound or romantic (it’s a mechanical interlude)

And I’m tired of (waiting for) all the infinite eulogies

(And they all put words in my mouth that) make me feel sick

Babe, I just wanted to sever a vein (but you made it plural)

.

(The incineration of another night, the gunshots rang clear

The townspeople screamed as a body fell out of a windowsill

Sirens wailed and ambulances crashed to the beat of my heart

Screaming “fucking save me!”, but it was all a nightmare thrill)

.

‘Cause Magdalene’s desecrated (and her scripture womb) now ain’t sacred

‘Cause all your best friends will only get together when somebody starts to die

‘Cause you can have your fucking funeral but still end up running late for it

(‘Cause you might) say grace all you want and still throw up (pure lies)

.

(Say it ain’t so) I wanna turn your insides inside out

(Black, blonde, red) And end up drunk on your bedroom walls

(So wash me out) My heart’s been drowned off by the tidal waves

(Maybe not) I wonder if it meant anything to you at all.

~*~

And we’ll all dance alone to the tune of your death
We’ll love again, we’ll laugh again
And it’s better off this way
And never again, and never again
They gave us two shots to the back of the head
And we’re all dead now…

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