Tag Archives: seriously

metal & skin (xxvi.)

i’m not

relapsing

i just need

to vent

there’s too

much to be

gone, and

nothing spent.

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Filed under Poetry

Ubiquitous

It hurts like a twist of a blunt scalpel wedged deeply within my broken ribs, this. The bitterest sensation of not having it all to myself. Not keeping it as my decadent secret locked away. Not being able to catch my own fairy in a glass jar. But then again, I suppose it cannot be called a fair game if I don’t collide with the oncoming moon and leave a gaping hollow crater on the playing board, in order to get severely damaged. I can only pray for redemption silently, as I find myself rousing once again under the maelstrom of dust devils that even the most tantrumed nonexistent winds from the atmosphereless astral body cannot disperse of. The remorse that comes with the dice roll comes so naturally, it’s almost selfish. Almost conscientiously demeaning. Almost guilt-inducing. Almost.

Because despite all the elsewhere tragedies that have gracelessly transpired, lacerating me with scars under my tongue and at the back of my hands, I simply won’t bleed diamonds from my wrist from foolish emotional distraught; rather, I shall forge an envious solidarity of the toughest steel element and hope within my frazzled nerves fervently that someday, God looks away. There is no reason to grieve, no reason to stain my pillowcase with rain, no reason to be asinine against the inevitable. I have the better set of cards in this shuffled deck. For they may weep for the dawn and admire the sunset, but I will always have the sun to myself, no matter the point of day and weather. That much, I can keep my faith on.

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Filed under Prose

Manie Di Grandezza

I aimed for simplicity

You chose grandiose delusions

Silk and velvet tapestry

Of a finest gasconade illusion

Whence I garner a cut

You have to bleed yourself dry

A drop’s never enough

Lest a laughingstock you defy

Your imperial desires

For a regal cinematic decorum

Every breath conspires

Such braggadocio, cockalorum

For there’s an audience

Of your loyal subjects watching

You can afford to be dense

For sakes to impress, captivating

Enthralling national idiots

With your claims of perspicacious

And to assure your own lot

Of self-manipulativeness edacious

Such pompous destitutions

Graces, bluster, and rodomontade

Gauche piquant ostentations

With a tatterdemalion promenade

Your stiff upper lip wavers

As parades of pomp and circumstance

Feels more presumptuous

Than your supercilious happenstance

Omnipotence and wealth

With such expansive superior qualities

Are not good for your health

So keep it to your arrogant psychosis

With severest egocentricity

And an overachiever’s self-applauses

Comes great responsibility

And medical attention for the clauses

Oh King Richard, vainglorious

Lend me your ears and heed my calls

Come hither from ivory tower

The greater you are, the harder you fall

You may be condescending

Reckon you’re an alpha, the orgulous omega

Fortunately, it’s a bad ending

For, I’m afraid, no one bows to megalomania.

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Filed under Poetry

Parasitosis

Worn out and faded
The weakness starts to show
They’ve created the generation
That we know
Washed up and hated…

~*~

The parasites;

Unnoticed at first

An itch, maybe red

That grows tainted

.

The parasites;

I’m a chosen victim

I can feel them move

Underneath my skin

.

The parasites;

They fester and grow

Writhing ever madly

Infecting me so slow

.

The parasites;

Damages and injures

Abrasions and lesions

Clear detriment ensues

.

The parasites;

Contaminate and corrupt

Polluting my clean mind

Weakening and disrupts

.

The parasites;

They wrench and leech

Bloodsucking exploits

I fall sick and beseech

.

The parasites;

Invade the environment

Peace left in sediments

A revolting impediment

.

The parasites;

Ravaged and rampaged

Infesting and infecting

Assail, overrun, pillaged

.

The parasites;

Stealing what isn’t theirs

Feeding on fallen ideals

Gorging in sickening curs

.

The parasites;

Ugly creations they may be

Yet for the very life of me

I can’t get them to go leave

.

The parasites;

Feast in surfeit and decay

Seep into me and infiltrate

Bound forever within to stay

.

The parasites;

Infecting quite relentlessly

Multiplying exponentially

Spreading all over my body

.

The parasites;

They overtake and override

Surpass, alter my humanity

Every inch of my skin’s hide

.

The parasites;

Is what my system’s now composed of

A parasitoid being, entangled till bloat

But how could I complain? I’d let them

Enter—this ail seems to be all my fault.

~*~

You made it
You played it
Your shit is overrated
(Go away, go away, go away)…

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Filed under Poetry