Tag Archives: word

floral notebook

i pluck each petal off

the roses in your faltering

and floral notebook

.

chancing upon every

word, every smudge, every

catchy beat and hook

.

for the girls you kissed

your stars to, for the boys

you laughed with drinks

.

when the days are rife

and navy blue, and when the

midnight’s pastel pink

.

when the songs feel like

a thousand butterflies

chasing rainbows past your feet

.

and the screams endow

glass shards under your skin

and between your teeth

.

i pluck the roses off

your efflorescent notebook

listening to the echoes resonate

.

across the universe and in

a million miles, the scarlet petals

make another heart detonate.

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Suicide is Imperative; Dying is Relative

Stop me before I go to waste
For every heart that’s born can easily be torn away
I can’t comply to this state of consciousness
That we call life, and though I stand here to perish
I will stand here ’till I die…

~*~

Suicide is such a selfish word, isn’t it?

An exquisite hum never to be whispered

And muttered under cautious hushed breaths

But don’t let your sweet little girl pull the trigger

And send her down along to her early death

It’s the last resort to someone who has nothing

Failure is relative, but then again so is dying

An easy way out, you don’t need to leave a note

Be an open ending with your last pages never wrote

Jealous hearts seek clarity in forms of twisted mentality

Bladed sobriety, I wish someone would find me

But no dares to ask, and no one dares to kindle and ignite

The bonfire that might burn down the entire midnight

The attempts I’ve hidden behind star-spangled band-aids

The promises thrown away like an extinguished hand grenade

Guilt, pain, contrition shaken up like a secret toxic potion

Three cheers and toast to us, and here’s to murderous emotions

For the lifelines we destroyed, the stars that will outlast

The existence that will never be, the sulphurous bite of the past

For giving up the ghost so hard the grim reaper gets chills

For the recovery that is bullshit misery, for all the numbing thrills

Don’t decode the snarled banter, dying’s really just entertaining

A childish amusement, they say it’s serious, but why am I laughing?

It’s so easy to throw yourself to the vultures instead of the sharks

There’s nothing left to be salvaged if you’re already torn apart

Suicide, it’s such a disgustingly beautiful word, isn’t it?

For the bruised minds that keep slipping under the lack of leverage

Three unlucky syllables can never sum up all the sussurous pleas

Never to do it, for our spines never to be avaricious nor weak

But sometimes, enough is just fucking enough, isn’t it?

Never mind the big picture of the future if the details are flawed

The decades I have left won’t compare to the halcyon thought

For the peaceful centuries of eternity that my corpse has left to rot

Life is difficult. I should just kill myselfshouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I?

~*~

Stop me from making more mistakes
Fallen friends have learned their lessons
Fate their teachers taught them all too late
Don’t teach me too late, just hide me from my fate…

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metal & skin (xii.)

with every word

and foolish lies

that sink within

the blade swings

even closer to my

anticipating skin.

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Pious Condescension

The world does not revolve

Around you and your stupid ideologies

I’d convince you otherwise

But that would be scuffing my own knees

You see what there is to see

Because you’re always looking for the fault

And kvetch like a little bitch

When I shut you down like a deadlock vault

Shit, I hate to break it to you

But dear, your word isn’t the fucking gospel

You’re not a goddamn religion

And your holier-than-thou beliefs can go to hell.

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echoing ears

if they do not

have the mind

to pay attention

to your words—

then goddamn it

don’t waste your

breath anymore,

’cause they’re not

worth your world.

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★ oh no ☆

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

there’s a taste in that bittersweet word

that calm expression, passé tongues

speaking as if they didn’t crash worlds

and left the sun and moon to hang

the hearts colliding with every beat

and souls gain momentum in a heat

the bastards take their velvet seats

and watch the show, clapping teeth

from afar, the diabolic supernova

looks to be a marvellous hysteria

streaks and arcs of light intertwined

you witness a million stars fall declined

and yet, oh! the beauty, the irony, the

sheer cruelty of it all, for when all of the

constellations head south and lose glow

and one densely exclaims a soft ‘oh no’

when the planet loses orbit revolutions

and hurtles into a hopeless dissolution

there will always be someone so tactless

that whispers back their pleased ‘oh yes’.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

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Filed under Poetry, Southern Constellations