Tag Archives: sentiment

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?

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Filed under Poetry

Will The Real Author Please Stand Up?

Do you ever get envious of other people’s words?

The way they’re so intricately, elegantly, genuinely made. The way that the sentimental fervour and tortured passion rings out plangently from beyond the curled pages of the book and strikes sharp aches and twinges in even the most desensitised heart. The way you could read them for days at an end and never get tired of the intangible shapes they form, the sophisticated literary art they create, the breathtaking stories they tell. The way that you can never really understand what that individual meant, what they truly felt, and you aren’t quite sure if you could even place yourself in their perception and situation, but despite all that, they’re still your emotions. They’re confusing. Messy. A foreign tongue that no soul, living or deceased, can ever know how to speak again. But you can feel them latching in your hair, your skin, your eyes, your lips, speaking your mind, all the words you don’t know how to say, all the senses you never knew existed in the first place, all the thoughts you don’t know how to feel.

And so you feel inspired. And so you attempt to write.

But your words, on the other hand, are rather insipid and unamusing. They’re the proverbial rain that never gets written about. The damp, stuffy, erratic kind of drizzle that relents to the point of irritation and drips down cracked ceilings and forgotten open windows. The kind that’s well-meant by the dear weather, but never makes its humble way in poets’ thoughts and poetry books, except occasionally to emphasise a depressing thought. You could stand outside that downpour for days at an end and get not a single drop of water on your skin. Your words feel cheap and secondhand, sharp edges worn-down to cliches and dull torpor, no wit to be found anywhere. Your words are no one else’s and you aren’t quite sure if they’re even yours, or just by the ghost that resides behind your empty ribs. It’s confusing. Messy. A foreign tongue that not a soul, living or deceased, knows how to speak. They’re all the words you can’t say, all the thoughts you don’t know how to feel, but you try to make sense of them anyway.

Do you ever wish…that you couldn’t write?

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Filed under Prose

Illusion Elision

Paint my floral lips with mimicked authenticity

As my silver dollar eyes revolve like a penny

My underwater heart makes me feel rather charmed

And my blood is a reservoir of stardust so warm

So when I ardently drip off the golden canvas

Count me on the year-old calendars of never was

When the magic dare denies my convoluted attraction

Bury me in lilac sentiment—a wishless notion.

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love must be such a strange thing

Believe that I’m in heaven
And that you’ll go there as well
When our bodies touch the earth again
When the people cry
‘Cause they’ll believe that we have left
Oh, our souls will touch the sky again
And they will glow, they will glow
‘Cause they’ll be home…

~*~

and darling, i love

your bruised wings and celestial voice

stirring up the empty wind

with soft static noise

.

and darling, i love

your fading chocolate eyes

melting into sun’s golden horizons

in stars of sugar and spice

.

and darling, i love

your imperfect revelations

more immaculate than a stippled saint’s

breathtaking at every revolution

.

and darling, i love

your sentimental mind’s muse

gossamer creeds and caustic exhilaration

that i wouldn’t ever dare to refuse

.

and darling, i love

your unique ability to make me feel

beating my solipsistic heart back

into a lukewarm pulse tangible and real

.

and darling, i love

the clemency of your pensive soul

and how it never even hurts me

when into its beckoning embrace i fall

.

and darling, i love

even though it’s a steadfast ache

until the night my eidetic serenity withers

i’ll dream of you when i’m awake

.

and darling, i love

you.

~*~

If I can’t have you
That’s okay with me
Just as long as I know
That you’re living free…

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Filed under Poetry

Monomania

The chemicals in my brain

Are spilling over into tidal waves

And ricocheting delusions

But I don’t mind what they make

I’m being disgusting, banal

My apathetic towers are crashing

Yes, I’m sick from sentiment

But is that really such a bad thing?

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Filed under Poetry

lungs burned in liquor

Like a rush shot through you
Everyone is watching you…
Told you why I see no need for the sun
(I’ve found a reason to say)
A love you light is a love soon gone…

~*~

a rush of blood

under falling skin

serenade confessions

kissing chlorine

gift shop grenades

vertigo weaving clarity

mirror wounds

bleed out my vanity

so tell me again

my heartless lover

lips of rose and needles

an ornamented endeavour

feathers stir past the sea

cloudy sulphur halos

candle-lit reveries

drowned in pools shallow

perhaps this world is

better off without

a trace of vertical stripes

incarcerating doubts

flags of pure surrender

scarlet against satin

i’m dissecting dead stars

a lost name set in latin

my platinum eyes

scratched the vinyl record

sentimental titanium

wrapped in unravelled cords

a rush of oxygen

under decaying lungs

a promenade desperation

touching gasoline.

~*~

If this is it
Don’t bother ’cause this love is a lie
I’m a chemical kid
You’re a mechanical bride…

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Filed under Poetry

The Violence and the Infarction

Was I the coruscant antebellum kindred

To your predilection of extraneous vagary?

Aeon past the tachyon of obsequious depredations

Within thralls of specular painstaking coterie

My reprieve was but an aspersion of its faux edifice

Construed and cogitating in a stringent sepulchre

The drivel of platitudes and pugnacious respite

The pinnacle of obstinate, sulphur tongue abjured

The tomes writ under tantalus, narrating its temerity

A paragon of predicament, deleterious I may be

So scourge me in pugilistic nostrum and brash facsimile

Audacity and recidivism alike, burning constabulary

How succinct you are, garmented in laburnum clamour

As gregarious plaintive impertinence vehemently quavers

The verboten of pretentious and erroneous miscreants

Tidal waves of synchronous aesthete, pale arrogance defiant

Was I the exculpated alla breve you defended quite magnanimously

Your aspiring coltish sphene of the sacrilegious cognoscenti?

If only these coronary provocations were veritable, not desultory

The emolument for infatuation are naught but languorous presentiments.

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Filed under Poetry

symptomatic sentiments

what makes

people tick

isn’t the

complicated

tricks,

it’s the simple

emotions

of a heart so

s i c k.

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Filed under Poetry

Conciliating the Innocuous Evil

Don’t stop drinking, the water will hold

I’ve got a tap on the oceans, seven-fold

Did I bruise your two lips efficaciously?

You’re an adenoidal suicidal blue baby

Sterile words are asthenic sanitisation

Are you embarrassed by that attention?

A cavalcade of tragedy and menagerie

Demarcated flirtation in grave robbery

My wink scheming pertinent adulation

Vindication is not the equivocal potion

Presentiment is a faux rubbish tumbril

If you wish to execute me, I’ll fire at will.

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Leidenschaft

On my soul, its destructive havoc is wreaking

Putting my heart through pillars of hellfire

Why does the sordid pain feel so amazing

And sheer part of emptiness my only desire?

Living deadlocked in a poisonous addiction

Sanity no longer under my personal jurisdiction

The anathemic power of human emotions

Making me lust for the acidic taste of perdition.

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Filed under Poetry