sometimes i exist i think

I can feel a change
I lie awake every night, scratching
At the back of my eyelids
Nothing good ever happens
In the midnight hour…

~*~

distance stemmed

from coveting and

plainness, an upside

down mixolydian

reverie, never enoughs

for nobody was—crave to

choose isolation from

an option of tenfolds

because it eases the

passageways and

makes for a placid tale

of another ghost haunting

their own apartment

simply because they

wanted to leave the door

without a key just ever

so slightly unlocked

~*~

Don’t look at the moon
While the light is draining
It’s slowly killing you
Don’t look at the moon…

Echopraxia

I am not as truthful with my words

As I am with the mirror of another person

Irritating, a mimicked eloquence in my every verve

A quiet death in between the lines of reason

.

Yet I yearn to be autobiographical

To move the hills with my own sorrow

Bleed ocean waves with the sound of my voice

Crashing, cresting—swollen abyss

.

No one will touch it with a paperweight

My skin itches with healed sores, my mouth

Itches with the desire to be heard,

My mind is severed from my body; regret, culminating

.

They hear my suffering but not my thumping heart

I think it to be nonexistent—am I the truth?

No one notices me. No one comes near. No one

Prays for the crying shadow in the corner of the room.

.

So I atone with my own subtle mess. The ink stains

They praise me for my joy—my lack of it, my lack

Of self-respect, my lack of nerves within the soul—as soon as

This chapter closes, my lies become no more than another neglected tale.

down by the fairy ring

oh, this wayward glow

i catch sleepy lightning bugs

and send them off to space

with one last quiet hug

they’ll light up the horizons

for you, when i failed to

do the very same, only you

melt me down like the

plastic jewelry you wear

the crude good luck charms

tarnished promise rings

and the ancient silver locket

with our very first picture inside

the one i always hated

because my hair stuck up

in such strange places, but you

thought it was funny and i

found myself laughing along

recklessly, almost afraid to

let my contracting insides show

pushing down the declaration

building castles in my head

though there’s no one in distress

inside to swoop in and rescue

only my monstrous self

just another forgotten tale

in a dead language no one speaks

but for a moment, i wondered

if you understood it—if you

understood me; the way your

delicate dimples danced to your

own melodies, a half-wit grin

dripping with sonatas and sonnets

and sweet sarcasm, somehow

endearing me like a lantern mystery

buy the paper sun is never mine

to keep, and so away it floats

up to that sky with its purple moon

and flaxen lightning bugs, and

you will nestle perfectly within the

crook of andromeda’s final embrace

for you belong in a place i lost

you belong in a place i don’t.

Out Of My Mind

“Nobody wants to hear you
Cry about your breakup, so drop it.”
Well, that’s fine too because
I’m fucking sick of talking about it
Let’s talk about shows and ghosts
And shows and clothes…

~*~

beat me green and blue

until my eyes have tunnel vision

nobody wants to hear me

shed bullets and load ammunition

as the screws in my head

are just twisted too tight to be right

and you can spin it around

and around, but you’ll lose the fight

utter an overplayed excuse

i know i look like a burst drained pipe

and i mix up cryptic words

so you can’t tell or tread on which side

and i’m the human definition

of infinite futility and endless frustration

acting upside down and under

over and over like a patience in remission

so beat me up in black and grey

until my porcelain skin turns deathly pale

i’ll send my wretched self home

at least one of us lived to tell the tragic tale.

~*~

See, I’m like you without good moods and
My cave’s my room where I’ll cave too
Yeah, I’m like you without good moods
And you’ll be sorry when you come to…

eau de cologne

swathes of perfume—

a familiar scent in the storm

bewildered by wonders

and shadows on the dictaphone

renegade tears; again

they surround charlatan hearts

in sounds of scissor envy

the wineglass is fermented sour…

time vanishes into aether.

the threadbare tale of old lovers

bloom on daybreak scorch

akin to an elaborate kaleidoscope

incinerating infinite galaxies.

your anarchy is no longer ghastly

and the oasis of the cityscape

blinks out in a mosaic, one by one

as i quell my febrile miasma

and twist sullen on my empty bed

your form outline is long gone—

but your lingering fragrance remains.

Carthago Delenda Est

“Save yourself, don’t ever look back…”

~*~

the mishaps they prophesised

is just another lost epoch for me

over my head, the neon glow

flickers with creed of premonition

.

madness, restored under faith

under penance and keeping such

congeniality running circles in a

genuflected vacation for hedonism

.

the sirens rehearsed another tale

unsatisfied with the heralded audition

drowning the ingenuity in between

applauses of deranged diaspora

.

disparaging exhilaration eliminating

the oxytocin behind my constantly evolving

flesh again, as the vicarious deception

makes me bow my head and continue the end.

Beware The Rattlebones

“It was perfectly dark, now, but the opening door disturbed the air, and I heard things rattle gently, like dry bones in thin bags, in the slight wind. Click. Clack. Click. Clack.” ~Trigger Warning; Neil Gaiman

~*~

Beware the rattlebones, my child

Who runs every hallow’s eve in the wild

Beware its sharp teeth and sharper smile

That charms like a flower and bites like a file

Beware the thin fingers and nails of green

The chants of red and whispers of mean

And trifle bones that rattle and shake

As if your own heart, it quivers and breaks

.

Beware the rattlebones, my child

For its soul is black and mind grimmer wild

When the fell night is sparse and serene

It goes click click click through the evergreen

As yonder ravens forebode a shrill cry

Still under ominous mist and past the starless sky

It thus waits, for a wandering victim to walk

Into its precarious winds so the poor one it could stalk

.

Beware the rattlebones, my child

Who treads the forest beyond the wild

As its glowing eyes of blinding white

Shall take you on with such a vicious sight

Beware the inky blood that steadfastly drips

From its mangled dry skin and stretched-out lips

Touch not the roughness of its crackled flesh

Hear not its bloodcurdling cackles, or else

.

Beware the rattlebones, my child

For it lives and breathes not only in the wild

It can sneak up to your bedroom window

And no nightlight nor blanket can make it go

But beware if it visits you as you peacefully repose

For you are chosen to be its supper close

If you do unfortunately meet the rattlebones, child, then

Run like hell, or you’ll become one of them.

A Phantom Earl’s Missing Shadow

Two halves of a heart, in a chamber conferred

A though lost in shadows, the coffin of a womb

Two souls rendered apart, deathwish conspired

The first went away, the second did as he desired

.

A past of flames and treachery, daggers blooming red

Family shattered to pieces, innocent boys left for dead

A sacrifice undertaken, and a contract written in blood

Twists and turnstiles turned, execution of the death gods

.

A play set in stone, of clones and four leaf clovers

Names merged together, cascade grey and lavender

A life taken for his own, for the person he thus lost

Never mind the consequences and dignity it has cost

.

The ruse would’ve been clandestine, but the other found out

And he returned to take back the key in the padlock of doubt

Their shock tangibly pulsating, as the reunited twins collided

Truth uncovered from a well of lies, leaving them confounded

.

A story of two rival fates, their inheritance set by a deliberation of wolves

The tale revolves in a case turned cold, and mysteries remained unsolved

Of a  boy and his uncanny copy, what their damned trails may both befell

Whether the end of the story hangs by a thread or a rope, only time will tell.

A Note To Send In The Sun

It’s hard to be living, you gotta play the cards you were given
You think it’s simple but it goddamn isn’t
It’s tougher now than breaking out of Shawshank prison
And as you’re hitting your prime
People say you been committing a crime
But I won’t quit till I’m home
I’ll chip the limestone a bit at a time…

~*~

I’m rigid and frigid, yet bespoke

Speaking of sharp tongues that limit

Themselves to asking “what is it?”

As the audience applauds the cynics

And sits in mentalities of finick

Spin it, another losing tale to uphold

The tongues of silver and hearts of gold

If my failed memory was distantly bold

Then why is the thought of you so cold?

Sold, the paintings I hid in the cellar

Buying my heart for a million dollars

Clashing in shades of blue and white collars

Eyes that could never appreciate the colours

Call her, the girl with piercings in her skin

And her tattoos that tally her sin from within

To keep the demons from gladly releasing medicine

She was injecting just so she could stay breathing

Was she so wrong to want to continue living?

And if living is a vice, then I don’t have to play nice

And keep on hanging to surprise just so I could receive their lies

For this world is not a masterpiece of peace waiting patiently on the shelf

Rather, it’s an empty canvas depicting ruin for the better

An accurate self-portrait of oneself.

~*~

Shit in storage, living from a suitcase
Thinking “this is how a silver spoon tastes?”
Cause you can make a dream possible
But it’ll never be easy, no matter what you chase…

cautionary tales

i’m not

meant to

be a form

of salvation,

i could only

hope to be

a tale of

caution.