Tag Archives: skin

It’s not like I want bad dreams, but anything that’s a breakaway from the pure hellish darkness I see every night would be quite nice for a change.

In an ocean of noise, I first heard your voice
Ringing like a bell as if I had a choice, oh well
Left in the morning while you were fast asleep
Into an ocean of violence, a world of empty streets…

~*~

I don’t sleep anymore.

I forgot what it feels like

To slow my heavy breaths,

To dream, and be paralysed,

And be afraid that I’ll never

Wake up from the nightmare.

.

I don’t even remember the

Goriest of dreams, even if I

Swore to myself that I would

But as soon as my bleary eyes

Open up beyond the reality, it’s

Like nothing ever happened at all.

.

I don’t know how it happened

But now all I do every night is

Stare up at the dripping ceiling

And think about everything and

Nothing, and imagine that I was

Levitating lucidly, and I’ll wonder

.

What it was like to breathe and to feel,

To resemble a human, and I look back

On the days when I still pretended, and

I did it very well, but now my skin is just

Beginning to peel and melt off like petals…

And then it’s morning, and I don’t wake up.

~*~

You’ve got your reasons
And me I’ve got mine
But all the reasons I gave
Were just lies to buy myself some time
I’m gonna work it out
‘Cause time won’t work it out…

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The Taste Of Bad Medicine

Drag my hand behind you
Like a chain behind a truck
Sparks over your carpet while
I chase you through the darkness
Somebody’s supposed to fall in love
But nobody even calls; somebody’s supposed to…

~*~

If I held the gun that made your insides feel worse

Tell me, is it still a blessing or have I become your curse?

Your marionette body makes me fall apart again

After I’ve taken my prescriptions and adjusted my skin

.

I’m too selfish to taste all these abrasive chemicals

Forming newer lies at the tip of my pale purple tongue

So won’t you take them away and shatter up these brick walls

That’s keeping my sanity in, just another emergency man

.

In the bedroom floor where our breaths feel like the new testament

My tell-tale heart is still writhing and clawing desperately at the cement

You buried me in black and white, but all I could see is an endless blue

Starving for some modesty like it’s some unheard modern-day virtue

.

So break me away, I’m responsible for this reckless self-medication

Just to sleep and dream a little longer, just to find something to hold on

Because all I hear is anguished screaming from the other side of that door

And I could only listen so much to this overdose before I could take no more

.

If I held all the pills that made your insides feel worse

Tell me, am I your blessing or do I have to call up a hearse?

Your puppeted agony makes me fall apart, and then

I’ll take two and pass out just so I could call you in the morning.

~*~

Tear this place apart
Until you find me hiding, silently I wait
You’ll be excited just to see me someday
Everything’s okay…

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Today I Saw (The Whole World)

I never thought my sabotaged lungs would last me another year

But just to sing to you, I’d breathe for a hundred more centuries

I know I don’t mean much to you but I know you’re always here

I promise nothing’s changed except for myself and what I will be

No matter how many falling stars may shatter on my bleeding skin

I’ll follow you straight into the darkness to find the end of my dream

Because this I can understand, each cinematic memory is my safest haven

Just to find you and to find myself, all I have to do is close my eyes and listen.

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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.

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anatomical dissection: hands

hold their trembling fingers

hold their nerveless tips

hold their calloused palms

.

that pointed to the blame

that touched the wrong skin

that crashed to the ground again

.

hold all their transgressions

hold all the consequences and

hold me tight when you amputate it.

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Monsoon Wish

Just two days after the first of June
A pine with arms brushing off the dew
Unlike a sky copious with death
Precipitation of heart and head
Should wash the rest of her youth away…

~*~

Hey rain, ain’t you simply so sweet?

I’ve got a dollar on my heart and a nickel on my teeth

You’re unpredictable, I’m unreliable

Weave me a liquid chandelier from northern downfalls

I’ve got an amethyst dream memory

Such limitations are for not my pseudonymous reveries

And I watch them on my windowsill

Rewinding June’s finesse, as my lukewarm coffee spills

.

Hey rain, ain’t you simply so sweet?

I’ve got a song on my heart and ten albums on my teeth

Dedicated to you, an ode for evergreen

As each quavering soul begins to feel your sapphire skin

My bedroom is cold, a frostbite cinema

Forte crescendo of wooden floorboards, a classic wisteria

My breaths are cadenced, silence unsung

Hey rain, won’t you spare me a little sugar for my tongue?

~*~

Our days spent crossed out of Sunday school
July has always been shy of June
Some monsoon, monsoon, monsoon
Come heavy of a golden hue
My monsoon monsoon, monsoon…

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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.

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left in stitches

my father sat beside me

and his eyes were in stitches.

i fidgeted, and touched the linoleum floor

with my cold bare feet;

my father didn’t say a word.

he merely stared at me with needle looks

threading unspoken thoughts over and

under my skin in tight crisscrosses.

i flinched, once again, and my feet instinctively

twitched to graze the floor, but i only

felt frigid air and a million miles of

nothingness beneath my cold bare feet.

i was starting to bleed profusely

and my numb fingers were convulsing

from the relentless tingling that was

overtaking every inch of my

breaking-down body

and still, i didn’t have a clue on

what was happening to me.

i tried to call out for help

but, it seemed that my crying mouth

was already sewn shut, and

my father was embroidering his

guilt and blame on my face,

cast fault and lost sins forming eternal

patterns of this knitted contrition,

writing down personal confessions

that were not even mine to begin with

and will never be mine to keep.

my eyes were slowly shutting now.

and with the last strength that i could

muster up within me, i pleaded silently with

my father, screaming “what have i done to you?”

but my father, with his eyes in stitches

and his love for me trapped in a needlepoint,

he finally looked away and murmured

“what have you done to yourself?”

i think i may have shed a tear (or lint?)

before the last of my vision was tied off

and i was nothing but endless unraveling threads—

i woke up quietly crying and suffocated

by my blanket, feeling soft prickles on the

numb arm i accidentally slept on.

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The Vale

From beneath the vale where ghouls adore

What lay beyond euphonious sounds of terror

The skins that writhe, the pestilence feeds

Yet a place so mythic, souls dare not bleed

.

Might thine fearful mind be born and torn?

Might these hands exist only to pray?

Might thine fearful mind be born and shorn?

Might this heart pulsate only today?

.

From beneath the vale where sinners sleep

What lay beyond such calm rather deep

The skins that writhe, the persistence needs

In a place so mythic, souls dare not bleed

.

Might thine fearful eyes seek only the truth?

And yet the blindness be overcome?

Might thine fearful lips speak only the truth?

And yet bitter falsehood be undergone?

.

From beneath the vale where I may scale

What lay beyond deathly silence pale

The skins that writhe, my persephone heeds

Thee to that place so mythic, souls dare not bleed.

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western trees

The silhouettes, they play the part
Their east coast digs are works of art
But the sickness sleeps inside our bones
With solipsistic overtones…

~*~

oh, how quiet the songs

of the western trees impede

amid soft tantrum of the breeze

and falling taffeta leaves

dislimn the topaz rays that glaze

when the sun adores its haze

and transforms honeysuckle brie

drops that reach your eyes so sweet

as pastel flora invites neon grass

and twines of hurtful weeds that pass

for an interlude on clement grudges

and a chance to altogether flourish

the kismet that kisses skins and knees

bruised blackcurrants and peonies oblique

tasting just like lemonade lunette

as the campanile rings out for sunset

oh how lulling, these summer songs

of the western trees’ symphonies

amid hums and chirps of solstice cicadas

and falling hearts resting at ease.

~*~

From the burbs’ to the streets now, it’s a revival
The spirit is found in the idealistically idle
The age of excess, I just love it…

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