Tag Archives: traitor

Persecution Circus

Is it because I understand you, dear,

That our tongues refuse to speak?

Between faux light and serpentine

I dwell in which you peruse to seek

Whilst you accost my sideshow heart

Only five cents for an ungallant peep

Let strange faces gawk and sneer away

And if I’m unlucky, I might feel a pinch

.

Is it because I understand you, dear,

That we both lie to save our graces?

We befall into patterns labyrinthine

And spend centuries in mirrored mazes

Whilst every breath accused our throats

Of being crude vaudeville traitors

But the carousel shall spin and spin

As we destroy our own creators.

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Misstakes and Missgivings

And he will prove that he’s a man
With wooden bed posts whittled away
With the notches, they were carved in
A little too deep, and now he’s paying for it
He’s sleeping on the floor tonight…

~*~

PENCIL SKETCHES

Grey lines overlapping past chromatic predilections

Every lie behind your back a surrendering misdirection

And checkered tiles of monochrome begin to collide

Crippling your floral pastels of a spatial spectrum inside.

~*~

DREAMING FOR WISHES, WISHING FOR DREAMS

Oh, he’s the starry boy you dreamt to dream about

The lamplight is dimming, his dark is the only sound

Oh, she’s the sunny girl you wished to wish around

As midnight begins fading, but her sun is rising south.

~*~

MERCENARY AND THE MAN

Jaded tally marks that bore of no prior ill intentions

Experimental humanity, to prove one’s selfless remedy

Jealous carved notches that dug past poor decisions

Hypothetical insanity, the truth of one’s selfish disparity.

~*~

ANTICOAGULANT

I wouldn’t dare separate those traitors from the sinners

The difference is a gradual distortion of perceptiveness

If I were to dissect myself as my blood’s growing thinner

I’ll inject a dose of my own irrationality, when I confess.

~*~

THE SELLOUTS DON’T BUY IT

Attachment is not a currency made to be paid for in stacks

Clattering like calloused dimes worn out with nicked sides

It’s not a tarnished nickel abandoned in a locked cash box

Restricted only to when you need the spare change to abide.

~*~

I’ll tell my proudest secrets
Don’t mind if you can’t keep them
Well, lately it’s been mayday
So tell me, why is this your favorite sin?
Oh baby, lately it’s been mayday
So tell me why you wanna fake
Why you wanna fake it?

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Burying Nevus

It was a few steps forward, twice removed, seconds away from pulmonary distress. The rough patches of ocher blisters felt like frozen ice lodged in his windpipe, a cowardly conviction that he wouldn’t dare speak. His fault. His mistake. His responsibility. Him, a filthy traitor. The constricting bracelets felt like bleeding handcuffs, prosecuting him for his blithe misunderstanding. This was never my intention, yet why am I riddled with disorienting guilt? One voice asked in attrition. It’s not you to blame if you didn’t know. Awareness is key. Another reasoned out calmly. Ignorance is the enemy of reason. A third entity argued in hostility. Every choice made sense, thus, he told them all to shut up so he could think. He bit down on his raw cheek until bile flooded his throat and metastasised as an abrasive lump. The bloodied bruise tasted like a salty alibi in his mouth. He submerged his soberness in liquid regret until it drowned, and sunk in inebriation. After he could think no longer, he made his final decision. He carried through. He knew it was unfathomably wrong, fatally so. But it was warranted.

It was just another scar tissue he had to permanently hide.

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The Friend and the Firmament

The sky, in faint wisps of cloudy whispers, softly told her to hope, hope so hard that it hurt her warm palpitating heart and her quaint labyrinthine mind and the inner reaches of her fragile whimsical soul; simply hope, and the pressure from the hurt shall transform the sooty coal into a glimmering diamond, a luminous jewel with lethal angles cut into an impossible perfection.

So she smiled back and followed her dearest friend’s advice, and she hoped, hoped so hard and intense that it almost shattered her into a million unidentifiable pieces, but she gritted her teeth and clenched her knuckles and she held on to that painful hope, using it as a concrete anchor, hoping and holding for dear life.

Now the cunning hurt had buried itself in the deepest, most calignious nook of her spirit and being, the very entity that once nearly broke her in the first place now ironically keeping her together, and the proud, sneering, cruel hurt never left, no matter how hard she tried to expel it from within her.

She yelled frustratedly at the rapidly-fading sky and called it a liar and a traitor and an enemy and a multitude of degrading names more colourful than the most spectacular sunset that her lost companion had ever painted, asking for answers, barbed amalgamation of hope and hurt piercing itself deeper with every uttered jinx.

Yet in the end, she can only collapse in tiredness and futility, pityingly pleading, with viscid inky tears running down her cheeks and staining her moon-white cotton dress, for her dearest friend to remove the spreading hurt, the unrequited hope that poisoned her body and crippled her system and tore her soul apart.

But the sky had already turned dark, and the stars were nowhere to be seen.

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Filed under Prose