Tag Archives: static

oreo (for gabe cruz)

vanilla cat

in cream-tint purrs

afternoon naps

coffee left unstirred

.

fogged haze of blue

and thoughtful gloom

static enamel sounds

and a crybaby june

.

blacktop cat

on staccato dreams

lethargic skylines

and quiet evergreen.

~*~

img_20180920_161832_296829460714.jpg

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I Will Be Nothing (Without Your Love)

~*~

Breathing In My Words

Let me make your lungs burn

With the fire and the smoke

Feel the wrath of the temperature

Bring your heart back up to choke

Let me make your lungs burn

With the cigarettes and the dirt

Taste the wrath of this vindication

Bring your heart back up to hurt.

~*~

The Shadow Of Who I Was

It doesn’t make sense to haunt me

If all the ghosts are still sleeping

But I’ll be your rough concrete grave

Don’t close your eyes while I’m dreaming

Your disappearing act is getting subtle

Static song whispering to the radio

I don’t ever want to see your head ache

But I have to dissect it to see what you know.

~*~

Time, Like The Lines Are Red In Between

I’ll sink into the tangled web you weave

Find safety in the voice that sinks ships

Drowning’s a mercy than to watch you leave

And arrogance will make me cold and sick

I will be nothing without the skyless sea

But you’re next to nothing to ever envy me

And come this morning when I take the abyss

The tidal waves behind you won’t ever miss.

~*~

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Hold On, Fall Away

Do you know
I count your heartbeats before you sleep?
I bite my fingernails to bone
And then I crawl back under the stairwell
To a place I call my home…

~*~

Hold on, she says, and her suspended voice feels like a serpentine blossom, mutinous choking thorns wrapped gracelessly around the wall of my deflated lungs’ chambers, puncturing them effectively and leaving me gasping for the air that never enters my mouth.

But I can’t breathe anymore, I implore.

Hold on, that simple phrase again, manipulative and senseless, gently caressing the convoluted scars on my wet face like quietly-raining feathers from a fallen divine being’s cast wings, the burning touch barely grazing past decrepit flesh, ethereal and gossamer.

I didn’t want to miss anything, but the wind is chafing my dehydrated eyes. So I blink. I suddenly feel dizzy and nearly fall flat on my back, reveries resting as I attempt to steady myself. Sleep would be so merciful right now.

Hold on, another rousing round to jolt back the drowsy senses of my rapidly-decaying nerves. Each uttered word is like the sweetest taste of corrupted fruit in an exegesis dream, and I can’t allow myself to swallow it anymore, even if I took the first bite of sin.

Don’t make me do this. A foreign voice breaks the muffled barrier, and I flinch in static shock before shamefully realising that the unfamiliar sound was my own. Who…who was I now?

Hold on, the conversation hits like a loaded shotgun with a chipped bayonet, bullet penetrating the back of my head and cracking my skull once, before the sharpened blade cleanly slices through my wandering brain, a merciless double kill for certainty. Bang. Crash. Slash. Crack. Death.

I’m forgetting the colour of your hair now, the dainty lavender scent that follows you around everywhere you flutter, the way your plush lips mouthed serenades that collided and lit up fireworks in my reflection; I’m forgetting the sensation of seeing you, of wanting to see you again.

Hold on, the promenading whisper has amalgamated into an earsplitting scream now, dangerous hedonism dancing in demons and demigods around my shattered ears, past my constricting throat, relentlessly waltzing in wearied circles over and under what used to be the armistice memory of you.

No—My deteriorating vision blurs and falters, cascading and collapsing in iridescent shades of gold and silver, coalescing in glistening hues of diamonds and rubies, fluctuating in pastel blossoms of jasmines and forget-me-nots, all before shutting down into that damning void of sempiternal blackness. The last thing I saw with my weakening sight was her colourless ashen eyes tear up once, twice.

Hold on…was the last thing I ever heard.

~*~

Murder the moment!
My god, I’m the serpent
I’m sorry, I can’t see
That you truly love me…

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third time’s the charm (when you’re lying to yourself)

finished finished finished

did my unfulfilling day’s work

afternoon reduced to chains and shackles

dragged like fingernails into the dirt

sweating sweating sweating

baseball caps melting in diligence

and left to suffer insufferably

under the severe heat and silence

aching aching aching

temples snap like rubber bands

not in the mood for smiling

i wish my headache would understand

.

static static static

music reduced to scatters

dragging deluded spirits further

into abyssal underwater

pacing pacing pacing

the zebra crossing inch by inch

hoping that screeching tires

would run me over like roadkill

waiting waiting waiting

for the tears that never come

frustrated and sedated

feeling betrayed by the sun

.

tired tired tired

to the very frayed nerves

a day’s worth ticking down the clock

each hour a penitence served

flinching flinching flinching

at the blood that whispers taunts

set me free and let me be

let sharp edges be your miscreant

broken broken broken

by the stress that’s making out

with barbarous depression

and violent-red lies heading south

stop it stop it stop it

but i’m too numb to even protest

i’ll just fall back into a devoid oblivion

and let my weakness take care of the rest.

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Filed under Poetry

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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Static Sessions

And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive…

~*~

It’s rather strange and desensitisingly nerve-wracking, standing up there with shivering knees, under the judgment of glaring spotlights and hanging magenta lamps, and past the scrutinising pupils of a million watching stars. I do not feel like my own concrete entity, merely a disheveled apparition trapped in a foreign body. The amp screeches—jeeringly, it seems. I momentarily blanch. What the hell am I doing?

Perspiring profusely, trembling hands holding the gibberish lyrics to an unfamiliar forgotten song and an impatient crackling microphone, the beginning intro of the acoustic guitar sounds like a banshee’s scream that’s prompting my knotted larynx to begin making even an inkling of a noise. Quivering, quivering, quivering; dreadful hesitation and a near-death anxiety that wrings the delirious butterflies out of my stomach in an icy-cold freeze. An infinitesimal moment of silence. A skip of a heartbeat. A suffocating breath held until it coagulates. A spill of acherontic reluctance spilled down catatonic spines before one jolts and realises in shock that, surprise surprise, my parched mouth is actually producing sound!

Thus the song proceeds, with or without me. It’s up to me to chase after it’s vivacious footsteps. My voice is no longer my own, simply a phantom illusion; I barely feel it rising up and down, strumming the musical bars to the best of its abilities. Everything tastes like stereo static; clapping and cheering amid guitar and tambourine amid the anxious symphonies I relayed. The quaint scenario tangibly intensifies into a steady culmination, vertical horizons alighting into spontaneous combustion. Steadfast certainty underhandedly replaces the oscillating nervousness within me, pastel assurance slowly seeping in my ticking aegan-washed bones and strengthening every fibre of my abandoned sensibilities.

I find myself closing my eyes and loosening my grip, my driftwood soul getting pulled in the undertows of the euphoric moment. I can barely hear my own voice anymore, and I do not hear the crowd at all. Soprano, baritone, octaves, trebles, notes and rhythms and senselessness and song, they’re all that envelops me right now, my solitary company in this madness of a world. Raging fire burns in my emotions, thawing the glaciated blood in my veins, warming up the frostbitten angels barely holding my terse heartstrings together, bringing oxygen back to my perforating pulmonary flow; and nothing else matters anymore, only me and the music, the music and I.

The interlude swells into a deafening crescendo, and my frizzling neurons go off like fourth of July fireworks, showering the sky with brilliant sparks. It’s infinity on repeat, infinity in my teeth, infinity rushing low, infinity on an all-time high. This feels fucking amazing. What was there to be afraid of? Why had I been terrified all this time of such a ludicrous notion? Perhaps if I had steeled myself sooner, my brillo-pad songs would be less abrasive, and the ticking clock would’ve been on my side. But no matter, for I shall not dwell on the resentment of the past that keeps me embrangled within incarcerating doubt and merciless agony. Rather, I will focus on the now. This is me, doing what I never dared to do, doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m doing this for them, my beautiful divine motivations, though more importantly, I’m doing this for me, and for me alone.

The set comes to a slowing halt, the prospect tinging me with hints of sorrowful melancholy, and the audience bursts into polite applause, but the enraptured sensations linger still; and as I amble off the stage, I still find a soft lone melody humming whimsically at the back of my mellowing incandescent mind. It’s over, I sigh out to my palpitating lungs, to my shaky footing, to my disbelieving mind, attempting to calm my frantic pulse back into a metronome lullaby. But it will never be quite over, wouldn’t it? I ponder with a secret smile. I finally found my voice. I only hope I don’t lose it again. And I can only hope so hard it hurts that I don’t keep it to myself anymore.

~*~

And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am…

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Filed under Prose

a static thought

the briefest

dead air

at the end of

every song

and the

strange

feeling of

emptiness

that comes

with it.

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Filed under Poetry

Static Connection

All that hate is gonna burn you up
It keeps me warm at night, warmer than anyone
I think how many drinks I’ve had, no more in either hand
I’m slurring on purpose, and it’s certainly worth it…

~*~

These extricable knots are tied together in one graceless swift motion

And blurry photos jestingly taken for another harried flurried notion

Exchanging thrown dulled knives of raucous insalubrious remarks

And an injected almost-lethal dose of offhanded obnoxious snarks

.

Swinging and swimming against these painted, tainted mercurial waters

Holding onto the moon’s sparse gravity tighter as though it even mattered

The muddled ink dripping onyx blots will rearrange themselves for a story

Feather quills quaintly plucked from a silver dove to create your own reality

.

A candy taffy treat for my aching grinning jaws and falling teeth to chew on

Though I know I’m a terrible jinx, I’ve never been a sweetened potion

The knot that connects the headphones is all tangled up and horridly twisted

Loopy links that lose the music, like a sailor constrictor’s poor rendition misted

.

But even cave stones can wash away their stalagmites and stalactites

And dark scathing thorns can still hold up a blooming scarlet rose alike

And the song continues to play fast amidst the Wurlitzer’s slower tune

In the pages, the bookmarks still hold their place, waiting patiently for soon

.

Heaven and Earth will touch souls first before a prideful man says his sorry

Falls humble to his knees, weeps and thanks and tears apart his self glory

Though I trip on these wires and hear fuzzy connections, I must be absolutely crazy

Because despite every scar and war I’ve gained against, still, I don’t regret the conspiration; it ain’t so bad, really.

~*~

Everything I do is bittersweet
You could tell me secrets that I’ll probably repeat
I’m not trying to hurt you, I just love to speak
It feels like we’re pulling teeth, so bittersweet…

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Last Goodbyes

Although my thoughts are flooding up

In my mind and in my heart

They get instantly blocked out and get stopped

When I try to speak

And all the words I want to say

Simply turn to static

My tongue feels greatly weighed down by rocks

But my head is soaring up

So when I try to connect them both

I spit out gravel when I talk.

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