Tag Archives: stare

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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first act, insanity; next stop, recovery

“I never meant to hurt nobody
I never meant to hurt you, no, no…”

~*~

acrid laughter is ringing in my ears

good-natured, perhaps, to them

but the sound pierces like twisted barbed wires

straight through the caliginous corners

of my teeth, bared like a regurgitated heart

and almost—if not just as—crimson

as the fucked-over severity in my demented head

but sometimes it feels good to simply pretend

that the banter is a little less than risque

and i let my agitation be fooled…what an idiot.

as i’m sorry plays like a stenographic record

etching deeper grooves in the back of their stares

but never playing the right kind of music

am i screaming a typhoon in your clear day parade?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i want to cut it out

i want to cut my fingers open to point it out

and take all the sharp-edged blame all for myself.

but my testy temper rides on the flexible bullet

severely mutilating this nascent entertainment

that masqueraders and pantomimists have played

for the melancholic, esoteric, plastic actor

and you insisted on applause and receptivity

despite my initial protests against it all

for i am not your contagious chemistry audience

but i surrender my scab blood to you anyway

and keep clapping on and on until my hands fall apart

like a marionette’s lamenting swan song;

like this borrowed skin that sheds itself as we speak.

their laughter is mutating into vicious sneers

stabbing like blunt edges of a mangled fountain pen

and making me grit my shattered teeth—

your fogged-over eyes interpreting it as a smile

amused, but i’m simply bemused by my endurance.

i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m so fucking tired.

of the teasing testing taking terrors tampering

with my dysfunctional mood, its revolution ever retrograde…

it’s not your fault. did i ruin your sunshine again?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.

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The Other

They’ll never try, they’ll never see
What it’s like to fight, it’s like to be
The other, I am the other
We’ll never hide, we’ll never fear
What it’s like to fight, it’s like to be
The other, we are the other…

~*~

The first dare, the grey stare

You can take me down but I don’t care

The last act, the take-back

I’m more than what you will always lack

.

Because I’m flying until the stars give up

The sky might close in on me but I will never stop

Testing my chemical faith, it may not be in my nature

But I’ll inject it until it feels right, until I feel sure

.

The consume, the in-bloom

You can cut me up but I’ll write my own stitches

The red flag, the white gag

I won’t be constrained by mere gasoline and matches

.

It may hurt me like hell, but my temple stays strong

And I will stay alive even if just to prove them all wrong

They think I’ve lost control, slipped my grasp out of what’s real

But my dreams are more than what they seem, it’s all that I feel

.

The submerge, the great urge

You can tempt me but I don’t need blood to purge

The high-rise, the old lies

I won’t let myself be fooled by those who play nice

.

(The first dare, the last act, the consume, the red flag, the submerge, the high-rise)

Because everything’s just a game, and I was meant to break the rules

And I will play it right, entangled and twisted until I unravel the spool

(The grey stare, the take-back, the in-bloom the white gag, the great urge, the old lies)

I won’t let any of them take me anymore, and I won’t die just to keep score

Because I’m not just a someone, I’m not just anyone, and I will be the other.

~*~

I feel it all, the rise of the fall, pulling me under
With the last breath I breathe
I swear I’ll scream until my lungs burn
I am the other…

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fill in the blanks.

“And it’s four in the morning
I’m just trying to fix myself
What the hell did I do?”

~*~

blankness.

a constant void

washed-out

into a bleached white

still dirty, yet everything

has been scrubbed out

fastidiously, like

the writings on a blackboard

and the chalk dust

lingers in your fingertips,

the kind that you can’t blow away

and you’re stuck with

that unpleasant texture on your

hands for the rest of the day.

you’re zeroed-out;

multiplied, divided, and subtracted

until even the calculator

doesn’t know how to answer

except for a shameful

syntax error…

you don’t know where you

went wrong in your calculations.

now you’re staring dully

at the beige ceiling

listening to the rhythms

of a nameless music attempt vainly to

make your heart bleed, but it’s

all fucking static to you,

just another distraction to

keep you grounded

as gravity drags

you down in your grave

without even so much as a

respectful funeral or a dated tombstone.

your thoughts are as

senseless as every nerve in

your once-hurting flesh

your body got used to the pain,

one might dare guess

but the truth is you can’t feel it anymore

because it’s no longer your own—

to control, to use, to move around in to

your free will and accord

and you’re just pretending to perform,

waiting for the fateful day that the

puppeteer snaps your marionette strings, and

you drop lifelessly on the

shabbily-decorated stage of your existence.

you don’t even know where these

nonsensical thoughts are originating from;

all you know is the constant empty

sensation, a flatlined perception,

draining every bone in your borrowed body

physically, emotionally, and mentally

until you’re nothing more than

an amorphous bag of viscera

dripping numbly on that plastic chair

still gawping insensibly at the

rorschach beige ceiling, all the way to pure

b l a n k n e s s———

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Stares on the Staircase

It’s more the same, a silly old shame
A dimly lit road, it will wither and go
I climb the light post, illuminate the road
For miles away, so safely on your way…

~*~

Counting all the steps on the spiraling staircase

Falling down and breaking my neck with grace

Didn’t know how much the water meant a thing

Until I quickly slipped away and lost my footing

I’ve counted all the steps on the spiraling staircase

Treads in the dark, but guess I counted it all wrong

It never meant a thing to you, it’s just a creaky place

‘Til my broken body’s lying motionless at the bottom.

~*~

Sleep and awaking to life, for a hell of a ride
Sleep and awaking to life
With your hands at your side, paralyzed…

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eye. see. you.

and your eyes

are toxic

i close my own

and see

glimpses of that

wary glint

digging daggers in

my sockets

hurting me badly

the longer

i stare, the longer

you glare

shade of the pupils

snap fibres

blinding me again—

and i miss it…

i miss dying in your

violent gaze.

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navy blue

calm as a lost

shoreline, quiet

like cold winds

of navy blue

with stares that

can disenchant me

fingers on paper

thumbmark clue

sail navy blue

call the abyss that

drowned all the

captain’s crew

spinning daisies

of cobalt white

autumn oranges

medieval new

harrowing me

navy blue songs

notes on the

scale of nixed rue

navy blue boy

watching sundown

the faint stars are

yours to pursue.

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metal & skin (xv.)

hands trembling as i’m

standing silently in the

locked bathroom stall

fists clenched and slam

bruised, with tiles loose

my eyes never waver as

i have a staring contest

with the grinning razor

but i have a bad feeling

that i’m about to lose.

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☆ you freeze ★

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

ceasing the motions

of fluid tarantella

as if caught in headlights

of a mass deliria

shame since i loved the

movements of silk

and your flaxen tresses

that bounce in a wink

you were bold, brazen

you danced swan lake

caught them frozen

like an ice cream headache

the ballroom hitched

breaths at your gloria

as if you were the

intruder cinderella

but you ain’t got glass

shoes, only a glass heart

and when they glowered

it broke you apart

and you fled from the halls

of the midnight ball

they resumed laughing

and ignoring your fall

with no prince to chase

with a shoe size fantasy

the clock didn’t have to

strike twelve to end

your dream revelry.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

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Viridian Gaze

You have the warmest eyes of glittering jade

And scintillating sparkles of asterism emeralds

But, more precious than any gemstone made

Because it holds motley stories yet to be said…

.

It’s like the chartreuse grass by my ankles

Tickling my every giggling whimsical fancy

Sluggish summer, in the bright farm fields

On a soft valley of lush growth and verdancy

.

It’s like a fractal ray of the mellowest sunlight

Passing through a crystal glass of absinthe

Little green fairy floating ever so daintily

Flowing into your liquid fragile pair of iris

.

It’s like that little hint and sharp tang of lime

That rests ever nicely on my pink tongue

Or a lone dark olive that’s left at the bottom

Of an empty martini glass at an after-hours run

.

It’s like hot tea served on a bleak rainy day

Relaxing your frazzled brittle gloomy nerves

Or a refreshing sweet mint to cool the mouth

And to soothe your twitchy broken words

.

It’s like a bright shamrock-splashed parade

On Saint Patrick’s Day, filled with sheer fun

And as lucky as a picked four-leaf clover

And as happy as a dancing ginger leprechaun

.

It’s like frothy waves of seafoam splashed

By the shores of a desolate sunset beach

And the message in a bottle that it washes up

Just a quaint mysterious unopened treat

.

A beautiful colour of balance, growth, a colour showing creativity and creation

Green shades clashing, entwining, dotting flecks of brown, grey, and hazel

No wonder I lose myself in depths of new worlds, lost in limerent emotion

When I catch myself in your viridian gaze and into your prismatic green eyes I stare.

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