Tag Archives: talk

echolocation

PicsArt_05-20-06.06.20

i found a blister

on the underside of

my tongue, just

trying to talk to you

today—it’s better

left alone but sometimes

my teeth click against

it and it emits a little

hissing echo, like a

cloud of incensed bats

flying out of their damp cave

to finally face the sun

and burn their flesh

dwellings and night vision

impaired for another

sleight of sudden death

i wonder if this blister

will ever heal, even after all

the times i rubbed it raw

and when it does, and

when daylight no longer stings—

what else will be left

in me to h u r t ?

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cheval verre

ec7d9369-d8f2-4916-b70f-38d7140f0d017157080499276682422.jpg

chew the shards of glass

between your overcast teeth

and promise me this time—

.

promise me you wouldn’t lie.

.

doesn’t feel too good with

blood overflowing in your

mouth, does it? did it turn

the ashes into putrid mud,

as well, and pour out from

every orifice in a thick, dull

sludge, confessing the crimes

.

tucked quietly behind those

calculating, glimmerless eyes…

.

does the crunching of glass

sound like the bones i broke

trying to convince myself that

your gaping lips are meant for

more than blatant fabrications—

.

does the crunching of glass

sound like sweet music to you,

.

the way it does to me right now?

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oblique

you never listen

to a word i say

though i seem to

always fall back

to yours again

.

i try to convince

myself you need

some time to think

caught up in other

better affairs then

.

used to being used

there for disposal

an easy comfort out

speak sweetly and

softly and sensibly

.

my turn comes around

and i talk back to a ghost

out of sight, out of mind

now i wonder—did you

ever really undermine me?

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Rumours on Red Tapes

I do not know why I would go
In front of you and hide my soul
‘Cause you’re the only one who knows it
Yeah, you’re the only one who knows it
And I will hide behind my pride
Don’t know why I think I could lie
‘Cause there’s a screen on my chest…

~*~

Call it a conversation, or another bad decision

Talk is cheap, but you’re costing me more than you’re worth

The casualties counted, words set to ignition

But I’ll salvage what I can and I’ll try to keep my insults curt

.

You’re searching for a purpose, I’m looking for a reason

Differences aside, you can’t stay clever if you’re wrong

Listen carefully now, don’t make me repeat myself twice

Because I don’t really want you to misunderstand my lies

.

Pay attention, this can’t go on, go find another friend to ruin

With your pitiful convictions—or better yet, simply stay alone

Sober is your middle name, but your vision keeps on spinning

Ignorance can’t be your bliss if all you ever do is mumble and groan

.

While I endure the problems, getting addicted to gnashing teeth

For there’s comfort in this car crash, fracturing every fucking bone

I held your hand like you asked, you went ahead and twisted my wrist

But you can’t complain forever, and I know that I should have known

.

That this is not a conversation, just another bad decision

You speak sweetly with silver linings—but fuck that, I need gold

Casualties buried now, falling out of spellbound sedation

But I’ll walk away while I still can, and you can choke on what you’re told.

~*~

We’re broken people, oh
I’m standing in front of you
I’m standing in front of you
I’m trying to be so cool
Everything together
Trying to be so cool…

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12 – smooth talk

i crave for popcorn

and otherworldly diseases

all the very same

.

gorge myself on sweets

and bland medication

all the very same

.

i crave for better tries

and the purest hedonism

i am not to blame

.

’cause no matter what

it just always ends up bad

i am not to blame.

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nocturnes, numbers, nyctophilia

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness—and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark. ~Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

~*~

i.) the jealous penmanship

clever words left tears forming in my brain

ones that i have to open up my healing bruises

just so i could let them out somewhere

somewhere my veins wouldn’t be affected severely

(it was late at night, and my stars called out from nowhere)

sensations poured out from every letter and departure,

as it entangled itself with my nerves and wore them down,

and wore them like a dirty dress, and wore them out to town

until they were worn-out; nothing but a few stray threads.

i burned half of my journals when i turned 16 and stopped trying

to imitate being an author, because writing for me isn’t an expectation–

it’s nothing but another puzzling lock without a skeleton key

and because the most delicate daydream wasn’t mine

because selfishness, to me, is not just another bland adjective

because my bones screamed with the weight of a black hole

because your reveries were enchanting. and mine were f a d e d

n o , i ‘ l l  n e v e r  b e  a s  g o o d  a s  y o u

~*~

ii.) softness, like his heart in the shape of a newborn galaxy

i faded into an ugly shade of something that’s neither monochrome nor coloured;

on the verge of collapsing onto the other side of the fence, threatening madly

but never quite having the contemplation to choose a losing side

as i fell down into the blue of a stranger’s wanderlust eyes.

someone else had taken most of that vibrant shade already, but i managed

to steal away just a sliver, a glimpse, an infinitesimal shiver

and it was the kind of lasting cold that froze summer hurricanes

and kept my breaths visibly foggy and crisply sharp with every inhale

(you never warned me. you don’t know me, but you knew me too well. and i never listen.)

i’ll always be an insignificant detail in the cyan tapestry you painted for yourself

and i’ve accepted that long ago when i said i loved you in my nightmares,

tossing and turning on the bed covered in plastic arrogance because

no other blanket felt warm and comfortable enough for my body to sleep on

until then, i could only sink deeper into the fathomless wish that this universe would end s o o n

i t  w a s  a  k i n d  o f  l o v e  t h a t  m a d e  s u i c i d e  s o u n d  l i k e  m u s i c

~*~

iii.) an abrupt goodbye/the guilty party often disappears first

i was mad at something. i didn’t know what it was, but it was foolish enough

for me to take it out onto the embracing autumn sky, on the taciturn smiles that

were supposed to hold me when tempestuous desolation grabbed at my twisted throat…

and on you. you never meant anything. you just wanted to talk, and so did i,

but my tongue was a spilling box of blades, and every time i opened my

wounded mouth to make you laugh, i always ended up cutting you by accident instead.

(friend, even if i said i’m sorry, can you ever forgive me for what i’ve done to you?)

it was an unreasonable apology, and i erased myself because of my own self-hatred,

but not before leaving footprints of a migraine in your head, which you will inadvertently step on,

slip at, and hurt yourself…fuck. i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why i have

to push and pull apart the only semblance of logic in my life, the only anchor

that keeps me from towing away from the tides, the last person that still feels real to me

when everything else has blurred into an amalgamated indistinct static background;

i don’t know why i feel so smothered, when you’re the only attention i’ll ever have and need.

at this point, the only thing we have is each other’s problems, and the way we both

jeered at it, taunted it, and blocked it out with our own shared playlists until we felt better—

but now that summer was just a distant memory, and so was the scarlet artwork we made of it.

you also needed comfort. but did even try? no. i ran away from the colliding wreckage

as if it wasn’t my fault, and i numbed myself out because i couldn’t do the same for y o u

i ‘ m  s o r r y  i  m a d e  y o u  s a y  s o r r y  s o  m u c h . . .

i  d i d n ‘ t  m e a n  t o  d e s t r o y  e v e r y t h i n g

~*~

iv.) the midnight closes. the violent curtain falls.

the cold glow of my computer screen was rude and restless

and it made my fingers promise, crossed and uncrossed, that i would

stay with it until it slips into comatose. i have rinsed my mouth with lukewarm water

a hundred times to try to wash out the taste of stale coffee, but it never came out and now

i’m stuck with it until morning, until another astrological moon cycle, until i lose

myself in the chemical moments of something that’s so artificially natural.

i’m constantly starving myself, stuck between confidence and relapsing withdrawals of

my past life that i thought i discarded when i finally held on to my shooting star,

but it was always tethered tightly to me by a crimson string. and it always probably will be.

i’m alone. i’m friends with people that talk shit to me in the mirror, and when i bite

my chapped lips and draw blood by accident, it almost feels like atonement. almost.

(i got what i came for and i can’t try again. this is what i want…..isn’t it?)

i know that there are people out there making fun of me and rolling their eyes

petulantly as they bask in the trite, whimsical “perfection” of their storybook existence

but not everything has a happy ending, and not every sad story has to end badly.

i don’t know. i’ll never know. i’m tired and i have responsibilities that i’m not

built for, and every crack turns into a break, and a break into shattered p i e c e s

t o m o r r o w  i ‘ l l  d o  t h i s  o v e r  a g a i n  .  u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  t o m o r r o w s .

~*~

v.) nocturnes.

( a n d  i ‘ l l  s t a y  h e r e )

u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  n u m b e r s  t o  c o u n t ,

a n d  t h o u g h t s  t o  f e e l ,

a n d  n i g h t s  t o  s t a y  a w a k e .

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boy with the bullets (smith & wesson)

It’s not fair when you say that I didn’t try
I just don’t want to hear it anymore
I swear I never meant to let it die
I just don’t care about you anymore…

~*~

you’ve been nothing but good to me

and yet i treat you with feral viciousness

spitting sharp razors down your back

and taking a .45 to your bruised throat

like you deserved any of it at all,

but you don’t. if anything, i am the one

who needs to be put down, for all the

crimes i’ve committed against you,

for every inflicted pain and malicious insult,

for every tactless word that travels from

my mouth and straight to your lungs, making

you lose your breath’s momentum again;

for everything i did to you and everything i didn’t…

you deserve to pull the fucking t r i g g e r

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shut up when you’re talking to me

We keep the beat with your blistered feet
And we bullet the words at the mockingbirds singing
Slept through the weekend and dreaming
Of sinking with the melody of the cliffs of eternity
Got postcards from my former selves saying “How’ve you been?”

~*~

those clever words

are only things

you said in your sleep…

but i still listened,

and i still believed in them.

i’ll wear my heart on

my sleeve just so i could

wear something new

i’ll wear my brain over my shirt

just so i could pretend that

it’s something true—

but feeling and thinking

is already out of style

so guess my fashion statement

is faded, bleached out in

the bad kind of vintage

so won’t you give me

a cheap trick and tell me

“don’t be cruel, honey”

like the parasite that ravaged

our lips turning to scarlet

but i couldn’t find the letter

or monarch butterflies

in our holiday down in las vegas

when we lost the highway

for the third time that evening.

it’s a picture perfect eternity

the goodbye that never leaves

it’s the most insincere you and me

the “happy birthday” that doesn’t age

have i blown your mind yet?

or were you distracted by misery?

there’s no take two’s, i’m afraid

but encore’s full of apologies

so just talk, like it’s all we can do

talk because it’s all we can do

and listen to the insomnia

lash out in crashing profanities

if you’re too afraid to stay

‘cause these doldrums won’t play out

forever…would they?

~*~

Whoa oh, we’re so miserable and stunning
Whoa oh, love songs for the genuinely cunning
It was ice cream headaches and sweet avalanche
When the pearls in our shells got up to dance
You call me a bad tipper of the cradle
Tired yawns for fawns on hunter’s lawns…

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overmining

It’s funny how
Things work out
Such a bitter irony
Like a kick right
To the teeth…

~*~

your rich words

are as good as gold

mimic the wrong

that’s what you’re told

your cheap words

are too overused and old

but that’s the only

thing your mouth can hold.

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Just Making Conversation

Say what you’re mad at me for, me for
Yeah, why you talk that evil, yeah
That’s not the way you show love, show love
No love, no love, no no
Say what you’re crying at me for, me for
Try to control your ego, yeah…

~*~

No hard feelings

But how’s the rocks

Coursing in your veins?

.

I know you’ll say that

It fucking hurts like hell

But you enjoy the pain

.

No hard feelings

But how’s feeling sorry

Working out for you so far?

.

I know that you’ll just

Laugh like a humourless act

So why bother going far?

~*~

‘Cause I got all the things I wanna say
But nothing’s coming out
And all the times I came to you
But never ever lied…

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