Tag Archives: taste

purge


“Won’t somebody let me out?
Don’t want to stick around no more
Sick of looking at you strange
Sick of sticking to the floor.”


finger connecting

epiglottis

a show of power

find control

acid on blue lips

attempts to

manufacture skin

around ulna

stretched-out tight

just a bit more

sick of plain water

but the need is

stronger than crave

sweat trickling

down notched back

tracing triumph

months of sabotage

reach crescendo

lightheaded—but not

from lack, only the

loss, more more more

finger probes tonsil

carefully deep, lodged

clutches the trigger

for maybe another taste

and control heaves

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chemical

pointless,

repetitious,

elaborate

daydreams

and a kind

of euphoria

that feels

like tasting

angel dust

and battery acid—

maybe that’s

all i’ll ever really

have with you.

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food for thought

my stomach’s

a cracked vase

you’re filling up

with casket nails

.

i plead that i’m

already full but

you pretend to

not be fooled

.

my mouth fills

up with blood

but at least i will

not be thirsty

.

i’m getting used

to the taste of ink

and the aftertaste

of coppertone rusty

.

my stomach’s

a cracked vase

and the flowers

have long died

.

but if you’re still

curious, then go

ahead and check

whatever’s left inside.

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L’exquise L’angoisse

Palpitating arteries eviscerate, a familiar taste that tastes like nothing

Frustrated art under his eyelids fading, clever words I’m never caught saying

Lost impressions leave deceptions, a tempestuous flood caught in the fray

Wish my headspace wasn’t suffocating the sun day after another day

.

Imagination stuttering, slowly dying, what are you trying to hide?

If hell’s your new phenomenon, I’m afraid it’s far too late to be described

Every broken bone that the restless audience throws back to your act

Refusing to feel right again, this time I know that I don’t know where to start

.

Don’t look at me. Don’t look at my deathwish. Nor my blinded existence.

I do not wish to breathe the same way you do. Do not bleed out of my presence.

My words are glass blades lodged under my bruised throat, so do not dare me to cough

The eclipse feels impossibly heavier without your weight to hold me down

And so I quietly submerge with only the sound of my empty thoughts.

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phantom boy

don’t you go,

phantom boy

i’m still not done

painting your portrait

to hang in my walls

long after the house rots,

long after i’ve passed away.

they said to let you go

for you’ve already found

your bluest heaven

where you can sleep with

fleecy floral angels,

but i don’t think i could

let you go that easily.

i want to capture you,

your ethereal silhouettes,

your faded outlines,

your scars and scepticisms,

your details and blurs,

and your coalescing heart.

because i still have mine,

phantom boy

and it beats angrily—

refusing to let me rest

until every colour, linework,

and careful brushstroke

is immaculate and

tastes tangibly of you.

i know you wish to leave soon,

phantom boy…

but won’t you please stay

and spare me just

one last masterpiece?

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Bury The Night

I told myself, I’m tired
Of holding up your backup plans
Go down your list and be satisfied
If all you have is not enough…

~*~

No, I can’t rest

With the taste of you

All over the living room walls

.

A mocking shadow

That appears to grow

The closer midnight falls

.

Love, I can’t sleep

With the taste of you

Numbing out the lights

.

The silhouettes pray

In the shape of dismay

I can’t dream under your night.

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Milk & Candy

Bone-white laces purple throngs

And soft liquid intertwines along

Past the fragile webs of chandeliers

Dissolving clouds in pure ivory tears

A taint of lavender like small ocean waves

Kisses empty blankness with sweeter tastes.

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Dry Spell

So it’s over? I didn’t realise
It’s so much colder, but it was no surprise
Did you ever get to know me?
‘Cause it has never been so plain to see
And when you say you won’t forget me
Well I can tell you that’s untrue…

~*~

Laughter, that’s all it was, plain and simple, but to me it was a taste of a thousand pink cloud summers spinning overhead the aegan firmament, all at once. Those sunshine glances melting dulcet like sugar cubes in freshly-brewed coffee and lingering softly in dusky southern winds, trailing a fragrant aroma of a verdant fruit orchard freshly blossoming in spring afternoons. Captivated ears perked up as clumsy legs tangled together in a giggling mess of auburn hair and sapphire glances, and the most quiescent sliver of blushing stardust glimmered above it all in enamoured amusement; our faraway symphonic orchestra humming about a foggy eventide streetlight dalliance, concealed under burning shadows on a shivering autumn gloom. Laughter, that’s all it was, elegant and intricate, tasting of an effulgent fireworks display of blueberry ice cream and bubblegum-stained candy floss and red velvet chocolate, all detonating and delicately fizzling out like an exquisite festival in my minty tongue. But the ephemeral seasons have come and gone like drizzling October rain, and that was my final winter’s chill. I don’t want to feel warm ever again.

~*~

And I’ve worn out all the reasons
To keep on knocking at your door
Could be the changing of the seasons
But I don’t love you anymore…

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all hands (around my throat)

This is strange as hell to me
To say out loud it’s happening
What a powerless weight I am feeling
Oh, I’m fighting for a fate so fleeting…

~*~

i’m crossing

lines that

i didn’t know

were there,

taking the

last word in

an endless

argument that

never even began,

and tasting the

chagrin in a

flavourless

tongue.

i danced with

the devil once

and now i’m

struck by love,

no love for

this insanity,

no love for

myself at all—

nothing even

matters anymore.

i blame myself

for what i

didn’t do, for

what i couldn’t

have helped,

blame myself

for what they said

because it’s

easier that way.

i don’t want

anyone’s grasp

to pull me out and

bring me back,

i don’t want

to be named

another specimen;

i just don’t want

to be saved.

and i’m trying my

best to ignore

the voices

coursing in my

veins, draining me

of blood, as they

all hissed away

vindictively

“that could have

been you.”

~*~

You can’t let go, who is this ghost?
I won’t agree, calling my friends
This is for real, emergency…

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anatomical dissection: mouth

i bite my cheek

until it bleeds

and taste the failure

that impedes

i’ll save the best

the best for last

and drag my tongue

back to the past

i hold, and hold

like i won’t let go

but little did i know

i fell a long time ago.

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