Tag Archives: vision

The Devil’s Vision

Must I denounce myself as a monster while you refuse to see the one growing inside you?” ~Hannibal Lecter

~*~

He drips blood from the corners of his sightless eyes

And wipes it off silently, praying no one has seen his lies

But the devil drew smiles just as he drew out red water

Devour the mind and heart, teeth a grim rorschach splatter

“What do you see?” asks he, as the clock begins unraveling

He pretends the blindfold is tight enough to obscure sin

Enemies will flee as their friends are turned upside-down

The blunt instrument glints, a masquerade of gruesome frowns

And at the edge of the madness, the verge of suspended hell again

The devil sits with discretion, adjusting his veil of human skin

As he tends to the fear, crying in vain, losing their very humanity

And the devil is hungry, oh-so hungry—“do…you…see…?”

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Filed under Fandom Poetry, Poetry

Of Feminine Odds And Endings

I swear you complete me
Pink and blue on the skyline
Don’t the demons take this time
So raise me up, never say you’ve had enough
And you know it’s love when it’s bottled up…

~*~

Spent ten days counting dandelions in a field

Like time was miserable and needed camera thrills

Painting a scene that wasn’t quite as wayward

As a night filled with stars in some cheap postcard

Distance is effervescent when I close my eyes

Lips pulled into an idyllic smile, trying to play nice

.

Waking up when the collapse is felt in earthquake faults

Visions stifled with thorazine, my art is charcoal cold

I’ll dance like it’s the apocalypse, I’ll sing loud like I mean it

Spin a tornado with the air I have left in my lungs sweet

I’m just a mess trapped in sunflower swirls and pastel dreams

Tinderbox between my teeth, aldehyde ignites my screams

.

I don’t mind that it’s mindless, I don’t make any sense

The windows show my only escape from pyrexia bleakness

I’ll cast a spell and make the golden in the sunshine die

Plucked violets intricately lacing, like delinquent butterflies

Traipse by coastlines ’til the shore is nowhere to be found

Staring at the hypnotic horizon until I cannot feel the ground

.

Heavy, heavy, heavy dahlias; transient mysteries I’ll never solve

The morning’s further past over, and the mourning’s getting old

I’m a melancholy melody, I’m a symptom of severing snowdrops

A feverish heart cured by faux rhinestones from a psychic’s shop

Contrary crazy, I only miss the rain when the weather’s at it’s best

Drown in myself, I’ll keep looking for an exit out of this baby’s breath.

~*~

I had a dream that
I drove my car off a mountain
I fell back into your baby’s breath
Wish I didn’t miss you
Kiss me like it’s the apocalypse
I fell back into your baby’s breath…

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left in stitches

my father sat beside me

and his eyes were in stitches.

i fidgeted, and touched the linoleum floor

with my cold bare feet;

my father didn’t say a word.

he merely stared at me with needle looks

threading unspoken thoughts over and

under my skin in tight crisscrosses.

i flinched, once again, and my feet instinctively

twitched to graze the floor, but i only

felt frigid air and a million miles of

nothingness beneath my cold bare feet.

i was starting to bleed profusely

and my numb fingers were convulsing

from the relentless tingling that was

overtaking every inch of my

breaking-down body

and still, i didn’t have a clue on

what was happening to me.

i tried to call out for help

but, it seemed that my crying mouth

was already sewn shut, and

my father was embroidering his

guilt and blame on my face,

cast fault and lost sins forming eternal

patterns of this knitted contrition,

writing down personal confessions

that were not even mine to begin with

and will never be mine to keep.

my eyes were slowly shutting now.

and with the last strength that i could

muster up within me, i pleaded silently with

my father, screaming “what have i done to you?”

but my father, with his eyes in stitches

and his love for me trapped in a needlepoint,

he finally looked away and murmured

“what have you done to yourself?”

i think i may have shed a tear (or lint?)

before the last of my vision was tied off

and i was nothing but endless unraveling threads—

i woke up quietly crying and suffocated

by my blanket, feeling soft prickles on the

numb arm i accidentally slept on.

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Vega

I cried and listened to the rain in a rental car
One day somebody’s gonna go and get pushed too far
But now I don’t know what to say
Shall I deny my lungs their breathing rights?

~*~

it’s him—and the sunset

is as dusky as eclipsed eyes

overturning ocean waves

and my mouth will never recover.

a phantom in restless dreams

of a spellwork that went wrong

an escape from locked hospital wings

and a drink of cold sobriety.

oh, what a shame—i have none

and he has plenty to share

for his soul is a catacomb of

broken bones and thoughts that never

should have come to life

in the first place.

look how these lost hands adore

and spectacled visions strain

to read between all your blurry lines,

watching the once-fiery struggle

turn to death’s pugilistic ashes.

and buried underneath the detritus;

beyond the vaguer outlines of casualties

and heroes waiting for an answer,

lay a falling sunset—it’s him.

~*~

So give it up, give it up
Don’t let your mind slip away
Don’t drink, don’t get so high
Your beat’s too obvious
Not gonna say what you want me to say
I guess you’re right…

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Just a Pale Shade of Rosy Vision

And I want you to stop insisting that
I’m not a lost cause ’cause I’ve been through a lot
Really all I’ve got is just to stay pissed off, if it’s alright by you
But hearts are breaking, and wars are raging on
And I have taken my glasses off, you got me nervous
When you’re turning it into a joke…

~*~

I don’t know if I’m going to college. I know what I want to do, but I don’t know if I’ll make it.

Obviously, she says I’m being irrational with my decisions because I’m still hopeful, optimistic, just another manic boy seeing the damned dark world through rose-coloured glasses and floral idealisms, too naive and gullible for my own good, covertly trusting in demons masked with shiny halos.

She should’ve seen me nearly bleeding out in the middle of the night because I was too tired for anything else, because I felt like I wouldn’t be able do do anything more useful with my existence. She should’ve seen me doing it again a week after. And again and again and again. She should’ve seen me giving up.

At this point, these foolish little dreams of mine are all I have. They’re insane, yes, and most likely impossible, but who am I to turn it away? When I’m left with nothing but screaming nightmares, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me at bay, keeping me going on, keeping me alive, because everything and everyone else has given up on me. Including her.

Yes, maybe I can be such a selfish idealist sometimes, that much I acknowledge. But is it so wrong for me to want for more than just a stable job? A cash-grab career? A walking ATM fountain? Is it so wrong for me to want to be happy, or at the very least, be content with what I do, to see, experience, and feel more, to be more than just to be another greased cog in this broken machine they call a society?

Apparently, it is. Stupid child, listen to the adults, because they know more than you ever will, and you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment and failure. Since it’s so dumb of me to be hopeful, then what’s the fucking point of trying? Is being a sad, jaded, and washed-up individual all I have to look forward to in the future? Is it the only standard I should ever set for myself because everyone else ended up doing it? Because she ended up doing it? Because it’s the only sure and rational thing left in this ever-changing and cutthroat world?

If so, then nothing else should matter. Because I don’t want to have to live for it anymore.

~*~

Just let me cry a little bit longer
I ain’t gon’ smile if I don’t want to
Hey, man, we all can’t be like you
I wish we were all rose-coloured too…

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Hey, Sky Eyes

Drop it right now
You’re one of my favorite few
Can’t stop me right now
Like you’d even want to
What do I do?
You’re one of my favorite, can’t take it
You’re one of my favorite few…

~*~

Infatuation is a stupid word to use on you

And I am about as optimistic as a sinkhole

But these hands are clumsier as they deign

And nimbus clouds grow brighter as it falls

.

It’s out of hand, limerence aching for a getaway

Ecstatic until I’m plastic like dandelion sundays

I can’t be grounded out in the cold, so stay awake

I’ll hide the blush in my skin, if that’s what it takes

.

My dizzy head lies in double time, and my vision’s red

You’re too far from home, but that won’t stop the dead

And a half in my dried mouth, so I’ll keep on ad-libbing

Until every disaster hears the conversations still ongoing

.

The night is a black eye and the purple moon’s just jealous

As ready set stars in my head are restless and overzealous

And I never have time to play favourites when I feel down

I may be a thorn in your neck, but you’re my flower crown.

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ghost in the walls

Broken compass still moving forward
A constant north, the one I’ll never know
Like everything, I gravitate to what ends up killing me
We’re separated by a hell of a lot more than the sky…

~*~

i have not dwelt

simply to haunt the stubborn

nor to be wasted away

by tides of hubris.

i may be a mere spectre

but i am nary a ghost

nor another figment of your

mischievous imagination.

you may think me but

another flickering shadow

lingering past peripheral visions,

in the darker corners of your

tired, bleary, hallucinating eyes,

but i am not transient

and quiet mantras and disheartened

prayers will not be enough to

make me go away, vanish.

and my silhouette shall eclipse

your sunrise mind, until

persistence turns to paranoia

and mysticism turns to madness,

morphing your shallow dreams

into abysmal nightmares…

you deserve it,

for you are a murderer—

you have not killed my body,

but you have mercilessly mutilated

my spirit, leaving my heart

beating steady yet badly hollow,

making me vainly ache

for the former tragedy instead.

with what you have done,

it is only fair and just for me

to be the deathless past

billowing rather furiously

behind your closed curtains,

trapping you in my perpetual gale

as you have done to me.

for i have not dwelt simply

to be another superstitious legend

passed around in whispers,

nor will i stay in insignificant limbo

just to be entirely washed away

by the arrogant tides of

the fear you once called love.

~*~

Your wings might be broken but it’s not too late
You hide your emotions so you can escape
You can’t be afraid to make mistakes
And you can’t fake perfection…

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Filed under Poetry

In The Presence of Perdition

“And it is from this world of darkness
Which come the evil, destructive forces of man’s nature.”

~*~

Come one, come all, to the audience of the deceased

Have a taste of the pleasure that your rotting tongue missed

Sit before the actors regurgitating lines in vaudeville sarcasm

And your skin is stitched directly to the burning emblem

So curse all the horrors and scream at the fainthearted

A minor threat, a copycat’s tragic death, bloodshot gazes averted

Give out the two-faced masks that conceal the grotesque

For that flimsy veil of deception that only ire savages protect

So hold your breath and shut your lungs, there’s no other place for the living

Break your grasp and lose control on the mausoleum graves we’re dancing

I’m built for blame and bland on sins, severed eyes won’t see the true vision of hell

And I can’t be saved by devotees and war-bent crimes they preach on the chapel

But don’t worry, I’ll still clap along to the act until my blistered hands catch on fire

Dante’s inferno is just a burlesque caricature compared to this hellish life that even the devil desires.

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Ash & Tongue

Ash is just a word, but why does it taste so ironically bitter in my mouth? Does it hurt to say it, because the conflagrating embers originated from my pharynx, tactlessly ignited after I accidentally swallowed phosphorous nitrate and it corroded against my sandpaper throat and set me on fire? Who would kiss a person with a mouth this filthy? Even the most affectionate of mothers turn their backs away from my chapped sooty lips, bleeding of halitosis and ashes and lies lies lies.

There it is, that word again, pulling my voice under hell and waking me up when I’m having the sweetest dream in my acerbic existence. The exit signs are glowing softly in delicate overtones, yet my bloodshot eyes perceive it as an uproarious neon scream, blinding my eyes, deafening my sight, blackening my vision. The water’s getting colder, I’m caught up in the rip, and my footing has slipped away. I’m swimming, no, drowning in the hazy fumes, dizzy from the medication-addled ozone, and still I could not hear a single truth amid all the false accusations.

He was a man until you destroyed him. You were a girl before I desecrated you, cautiously building you up brick by chalkdust brick, all the while as I’m hiding away the solitary intention of vulgarly demolishing the body that is your temple. And it was all too late for you when you found out. Did you survive all the devastation I caused and rose up from the rubble like a newly-reborn phoenix? Or have your devout worshipers fled the havoc and left you suffocating and buried under all the debris and ashes? Ash is just a name I used to call in my sleep, but why…why does it taste so painful between my teeth?

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Filed under Prose

Amaurosis Fugax

Another place I find to escape the pain inside
You don’t know the chances, what if I should die?
A place inside my brain, another kind of pain
You don’t know the chances, I’m so blind!

~*~

there it goes again

the smile that never

means a damn thing

a laugh that holds a

flickering candle to

hopeless clamouring

cry for help embedded

at the patched bones

i call my fucking skin

the desire to be noticed

burns like the alimony

of another divorced sin

now i daresay apologies

because i will never have

a chance to fall and beget

the densities of bellicose

minds fracture skulls of

bereavement and regrets

as my tongue is relapsing

against scimitars again

don’t any of you even see?

i’m breaking and falling

like strands of deluded ice

spare me a fool’s fantasy

please look for me and peer

further and see the cryptic

cyanide, leave it unlocked

please look into my eyes and

sense my anguish before my

vision turns permanently black.

~*~

How deep can I go in the ground that I lay?
If I don’t find a way to see through the gray
That clouds my mind, this time I look to see
What’s between the lines!
I can’t see, I can’t see, I’m going blind…

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Filed under Poetry