Tag Archives: sin

anatomical dissection: torso

test the threshold

don’t limit the pain

your empty stomach

is a clean canvas for

your latest experiments

.

starve the soul

and feed the sin

drown in iodine kisses

no one will ever love you

for the way you’ve been.

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Erbsünde

Facile strokes and dismembered veneration

Severed applause for a predicated generation

Amid disparate provenance lay foreboding whim

Of dissonance and elegance—prays original sin

.

Wandering aspirations brought upon the knell

Ornate devilry waltzing on a dormant clandestine hell

Banished to fields precarious as forbidden valleys

Austere as poor man’s blood smeared upon rich tapestries

.

From the agitated archangels that dare to implore

Comes resentment refracted and arrogance adored

And heartbeats resonating within a derelict mortuary

Sinners and serpents alike singing for a purgatory

.

And when raging disquiet permeates the idyllic tempest

Of naphthalene rivers and lunary souls brought in behest

Cries the sanctuary of heaven—weeping for paradise lost

For Eden is the tempting muse and vestal morality the cost

.

Intransigence weeps the treachery, torn with abated melancholy

A disheartening performance acted out in entablateured cemeteries

When masqueraded stagnation blooms from impassioned stones

Original sin reposes triumphant, perennial solitude on a devastated throne.

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if there’s a god, he doesn’t have time for my bullshit

Take the pain
Make it billboard big and swallow it for me
Time capsule for the future
Trust me, that’s what I will be
Oh, the things that you do in the name
Of what you love

You are doomed but just enough…

~*~

i’m just so sick of faith

being forced down my throat

like it’s a mandatory responsibility

i may as well be tasting tax bills

but even then, at least i know

that the former is concrete, instead

of blindly fumbling for my hands as

i clasp the scapular and mumble

memorised prayers that i grew tired of

in another dead lifetime ago

because if i have to starve for days

and cut myself open just to enter heaven,

then why do they tell me it’s the devil’s fault?

isn’t that what i’m doing, anyway?

and what’s the fucking point of paradise?

Yes, the norms and dictations were all fun and

amusing when i was a wide-eyed child

so malleable, curious, and foolish enough to believe in

santa claus and the tooth fairy and tall tales

and believing whatever people told me was true

because i couldn’t construct my own reality back then

but now i’m older (one may contradict that

i’m not *that* old, but if my family says i’m old

enough to have to go through this bullshit, then that’s

adequately old enough for me, thanks very much)

and i’m wornout and jaded and tired and have

gone through not a lot, but just enough to lose the beliefs

that have done nothing good or beneficial for me

because all the saints and the promises of salvation

couldn’t make my eyes fall shut every night

and keep them wide open every morning,

day in and day out, over and over and over again.

i may as well be wishing quiet little whims every 11:11

or plucking lucky four-leaf clovers from grass

for whatever faith that’s worth anchoring myself onto.

Now, i know to keep my mouth shut and respect their faiths

but just don’t fucking cram all of it down my throat

like it’s my responsibility to be a good child,

to feel sorry for my sins and stay away from hell…

because if i live in a world like this, just how bad can that be?

~*~

And it’s getting hard to know what’s real
And if death is the last appointment
Then we’re all just sitting in the waiting room
I am just a human trying to avoid my certain doom…

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the familiar taste of poison

Drink the wine, my darling, you said
Take your time and consume all of it
But the roses were only to drain my inspiration
The promises were spoiled before they left your lips and…

~*~

treacherous poison

that’s all you have in your blood

and you infected me

you infected me

yet you blamed me solely for the taint

saying it was my filthy tongue

and its harsh truth words

saying that it was all my fault

it was all my fault

i attempted to get rid of the dirty blood

purging and expelling until i nearly bled out

and still, i can’t get rid of it all

i can’t get rid of it all

you called my ritual a crime

an unforgivable transgression that should

be shunned and immediately cured

as if the sickness wasn’t in the blood

the sickness wasn’t in the blood

so pray tell, was it my sin

to vain uselessly to dissociate from you

and from your corrupted veins

coursing through every offspring you have

toxic brainwashing every single one

and further spreading it to the crashing tree

transmitting and scattering rapidly until it promptly rots

until it promptly rots

now you threaten to disown me

but it’s the kindest thing you could ever do to me

because i’m tired of having to live through

all your sanctimonious ideals

and profane vitriol brewing in your decayed heart

but even then, it wouldn’t completely get rid

of the poison you passed on to me

you passed on to me

and i will concoct more spite in my mind

and spit out evil blood

in the pure eyes of the innocent

damaging others as you have damaged me

you have damaged me

i wish i was someone else whose

hatred isn’t malignant and contagious

but hell, what else can i do? it runs in the family

it runs in the family.

~*~

I could fight this ’til the end
But maybe I don’t want to win
I breathe you in again just to feel you
Underneath my skin, holding on to
The sweet escape is always laced
With a familiar taste of poison…

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amor infirmum

is it my sin

to possess the

only inconvenience

that reveres within

the acrid chambers

of my uncloying heart

creating devastation

with each sacrificed

detonating beat?

.

and is it my sin

to have basked in

the tantamount pains

and pure fulfillment from

which it absconds in

trite outbursts, yet when

all one can observe is

a dilettante vindication?

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Polaris

When my eyes’ve grown tired
Cause no night can’t survive with just a flashlight of hope
When all I said was bitter
And words won’t bring her back for more…

~*~

The stains on my fingertips are subtly disorienting

As I stumble on my throat, refusing to breathe in

You’re moving too fast for me to ever catch up

And all we can do is laugh quietly before we sin

I tell every aching bone to whisper about sad news

The shadows and the mist bring me closer to you

They say that the blood you expelled is recluse

But I’m terrified that my evergreen will turn to blue

And it wasn’t my fault that all the skeletons in my closet

Came bursting out, when I could no longer contain it

Understand that my veranda is always welcome and open

When the decisions overwhelm, and I’ll wait until then

Strumming the starrified strings on my ten-string cello

Until my fingers pluck constellations of the final crescendo

And when you find your way to that everlasting enigma

Look up and listen close to the sound of my north star fantasia.

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An Omitted Verse In The Hallowed Scripture

Standing in the shade of altruism, answering the call
Came a modern messiah to save us all
Something far beyond a work of fiction, positronic brain
A world that’s void of all the anguish and suffering, pain
Better tame your convictions before you go and open the cage…

~*~

They implore and beg, don’t sabotage

The remains of another obsolete adage

Waiting solemn for the raptured corpses

To be assembled, attempted, reattached

But the nightmare deceived in penance

Praying covet as pharisees emblazoned

Gods in faux gold, built another temple

Forfeiting all the impure jezebels stoned

And their towers and citadels crumbled

Under a quelled weight of Samson’s sins

Killing a million innocent for the penalty

Of what one iniquitous man wrongly did

The holy writ mutated and twisted again

As a biblical rain unrelentingly poured in

Leprosy-sore mouths of those calling for

A prophetical saviour which never arrived

The testaments old and new burned in ashes

Back to dust, where man belongs and returns

And as the serpent’s fruit was once again bitten

Divine paradise opened up to show promised horror all along.

~*~

We’re creating God, master of our designs
We’re creating God, unsure of what we’ll find
We’re creating God, in search of the divine
We’re creating God, committing suicide…

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Liplock Torture; Suffering Greys

And I can’t tell if this is all a dream or if I’m really here
But as long as I can feel you, I don’t really care, I don’t really care
Can we pretend like it’s just you and me?
I wanna act like I can feel something
And you don’t have to give it back to me…

~*~

do you feel me

breathing in your sins

and suffocating in third degree as

you mercilessly watch me die?

.

i wouldn’t care but

a single rejection would be nice

.

any reaction, even if

you laugh at my suffering

it doesn’t have to be an outcry of protest

because i know it never works like

that, you’re not a dreamer

.

i’m losing the feeling

in my fingers, but still, you won’t

hold them and pull me back

.

i’m dangling like

the burning cigarette between your lips

and sooner or later i will be

falling like the ashes

.

i could swallow

a million razors right now, and

still, you’d act as if it was simply sweet

.

i didn’t know what to expect

i can’t fathom why i even expected anything

you’ll always get the best of my worst

blue oceans pulling me into pacific

shooting my veins under a loaded gun

leaving my eyes with a vacancy

.

i could hope for a million years until it kills me

and even then, you wouldn’t cry.

~*~

‘Cause I can’t promise much of anything
I see in shades of grey, I’m going blind again
But when it comes to you, my world is red
I see in shades of grey, losing my mind again
‘Cause when it comes to you my world is deep red…

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How To Say “Sorry”

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count five stars blinking out on the palm of my hand

Whispering that this illusion’s grand, and I’m too infinitesimal to understand

How the world works and spins in its torque

How the skies are blue and why there’s rain in June

Why everyone lies and why people die

Why memories are memories, why angels don’t fly

Why chaos reigns in anarchy, and why you refused to say sorry

Even though I was bleeding out in front of you

And how the bruises are evidence for my allegations being true

But even without the vivid purple tattooed on my skin

I could still count every single sin

That you carved with a knife on the back of my heart

Saying you won’t end my life when you killed me with an art

Pressing down, feeling rife, tearing my veins apart

Will you still say this was simply for a restart?

For an iota of the darkest eyes you still call human

Face away from the tragedy and turn your soul to the sun

If those lips are crushed under the pressure of the truth

Fucking scream about everything, they won’t refuse if they knew

About the spinning planet, how they won’t understand it

About the blue skies and rainy day day lies

About death and regrets and how angels can fly

About memories being memories, and chaos made to create

And about how you refused to say sorry while you stood at hell’s gate

I’m at a loss for words, and everything escapes—

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count one mouth moving soundlessly at the palm of my hands

Saying that my delusion’s grand, and I’m too foolish to understand

Against the stubbornness and the haze, that you were never one of the ways.

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The Soldier In The Desert

Well, after all the blood that you still owe
Another dollar’s just another blow
So fix your eyes and get up
Better get up while you can…

~*~

so tell me, what have i done

to deserve these icy shivers

you dripped down my spine

and halted my temperature?

.

i only wished to take respites

and thaw this spastic relation

i never thought you’re weary

fathomed into a sunken inure

.

but grudges develop into gall

and interpretations turn awry

communications break down

and scars leave defaced marks

.

though was this my sin or yours

praying to the deities of hearsay

and believe gossip from tongues

refusing thus to light the sparks?

.

so tell me, just what have i done

to deserve your crashing bullets?

dismayed gunpowder sending me

straight down into an early grave

.

i only wished to defuse the placid hate

and cease this ineffectual, aeonian war

but perhaps both of the perpetrators are

enjoying such pain too much to be saved.

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