another unwantedby the light of a dying dayi retreatas unhappily as my heart could beat,as breaths could sing,Did I ever choose?I think not.just give a hushed "oh well."seal it with am a gic s p ell,you're justANOTHERt a l e totell?
Do YouRestlessness Thy eyes see no polished diamondJust thy swollen fallacies
IllusionIridescent illusions fleeting across a crumbling path,as trembling hands sewwhat is left ofa lovely visage.Imminent disastersthat send the worldfalling to its knees,as the backdrop of the universebends against the willof its god,and the fear-stricken childrenof this realm are demolishedupon swimming in never-ending flowsof hate and ignorance.Open your eyes,all that seems to be beneficialto your rotting human existence,will drain you of your will to live.Your body, like the discards of a dull recordon a lifeless day,will be disposed oflike the waste of flesh that it is.
WaitI have to take a second look,delve into the past that has shaped the sufferings of my mind,I stepped on the shards of the mirror,my blood covers the floor.I realize that I am barefoot, that I am not breathing.Who is this?A scar sits upon my chest, from where I attemptedto pierce my lungs,but the few tears I criedwere those of happiness.What have I become?I am confused,all the papers have been scattered, and I searchfor the one that bears the truth,as soon as the building is set to flames.I inhale the smoke.Too familiar of a feeling.
HazinessHaziness of the lights, blurred visionbreath shortened to weak rasps,hands frail, the weapon is dropped,and into the room the rest run.Faces looming above, they stare you down,eyes filled with fight, tears falling,cries echoing,echoing,echoing in the chambers of my mind.Go away.Cloth to neck,panic and fury,our eyes meet.Slight smile, clothing is colored bright.Final sight of your lips, and darkness floods,as faint sirens screechin the distance.
You and ILingering through my dreams,Grasping my hand,in a gentle dance,across the field of swaying flowers.Holding you close,embracing against the shine of the sun,soothed by the touch of the wind.And laying in the rain,just you and I,hoping to be yours till the end of time.I close my eyes,and hopetill the beating of the rainceases.
I Love YouI love you more than anythingmore than anyone,I'll miss you more than I miss anything,even the bliss that I had lostI want you more than my hidden desiresthat tug at my aching heartBut it seems that you have ran off,out of my arms,and out of sightAnd I'm sorryfor saying all the wrong words,and being all the wrong things.I love youso even if you don't come back,my love will forever be for no one but you.
To Whom it Doesn't ConcernHello.I've truly realized how none of you care.You act as if you do, but in the end, you are concerned with no one but yourselves.I had never asked for much. A simple kindness was worth too much to give, it seems, but I understand.I wasn't the person you were looking to give it to.I learned that I've never wanted to be.Never wanted to breathe, never wanted to live.Mostly because, there is nothing worth living for, not even myself.Why must I suffer? Why do I let myself face this agony and this pain?You say that this is selfish, because it'll only inflict pain upon others, but there'll be none.Because you don't care.It is selfish of you to degrade me for wanting release, for letting me crumble and wither away.But you don't care.You're just like everyone else. And hopefully you will suffer just as much as I have to.It's unbearable. It's indescribable.It's consumed me.I've turned into this monster.And it's time that I rid the world of it.Farewell.
I don't careI no longer careIt's just a mere wound,just another drop of blood,and just a little sob.It becomes routine,part of the coldness of your hearts.Please tell me why God has chosen meto live on this planet.Somberly, along this oppressive path.I wanted nothing.And you got everything.
ElenaElena followed me homefrom work one nightand stayed for tea and eggs,and all that minimum wageand wars between the sheetscould bring.She said she was a goddess,daughter of a carpenterwith her long red, red hairand eyes as warm as hazel nutson Christmas morning.Her hands spoke brailleacross my backand made the silenceof Sunday into a prophecy.She left one Octoberjust like she said she wouldwhen the fireflieshad turned their wings to ash.And I found revelationin red, red wineand cheap red, red fabricthat came off in my handslike summer.
renovationsmy mind looks at my bodyand says, "i don't like whatyou've done with the place."
WineHead on a patisserie tablewith a wine-scented napkinthat I scrawled your name all overin the hopes it might necromanceor just romance youto this place, at this time,so we could be together againand although the guitarist knowsthat I'm broken beyond blueI keep reaching for the bottlein the hopes it might recreateor just replicateyou.
I'm too poor to feel so middle class.My teeth still ache from the dentist,but it doesn’t stop me from nibblingthe cheese danish I bought at Krogerthis morning, warmed by thirtyseconds in the microwave. My mugof hot chocolate is too big, and Idrink it all. The washer is on its lastcycle; the cat is purring at my feet.Netflix is background noiseto clacking keys, typing a transcriptof middle class morning that I’ll latercall a poem or a turning point,wondering when I became such an adult.
the polar opposite of translucencycradled in the echoof a cloudburst,the earth curls invisible fingersabout my achilles' tendon& pulls;she cries that i am notintended for the clouds,that my mind must not wanderbetween their susurrous concavesso i,furious with her insistence,her petulance,untether myself from the soft,diaphonous comfort of the heavens& sink,down into the weight of gravity.listless green blades welcome my soles,stimulating a tickle,an itch,a sneeze; i never have done wellwith nature,but oh,she is calling for me,soft-tongued and crisp in herown shadow,& i am sorely temptedbut no,no--i am not for the soil.lungs listless,she becomes my inhale;lightheaded& translucent,my alveoli shudderbeneath her force--i am not for the air, either.mellow-skinned,i stand beneath her onslaughtuntil she tires,her molten heart beating beneath my toes;unable to woo me with her facets,she pirouettes,cloaking me in one last attempt,a final shadow.my pores bloom& i r
to the ghosts with you, my deari came not to be kissed,or to have myself cradledin the curve of a throat,but to be broken,to be diminishedby your lack of affection& over indulgence of sexualization.but i,uneducated in your intent,found myself left entirely whole& incapable of the furyi had sought to sow between theridges of my aching ribs.
Finding HappinessShe's burning up like a suicide noteAnd upon it's legacy linesScribed in crimson inkIs all her little curios of happiness.Before misery waddled up,Knocked over her correction fluid;Erasing all her joy in a blink.There's a tape recorder by her sideSkipping a death tone melody;The silence she hides inside.Should she stop.And rewind?Wipe her days of self-pity and hateUntil she can record a new songUpbeat to a happy tune of fate.By her crumpled flat dress,Glares wild, her knife and her pills,Though the sight macabreOnly sets her heart ablaze to chills.Serrated metal to barcode inA reminder of all her undying painAnd the dark she kisses within.Numb, she knocks back medicine,Her bus stop on the highway of life.Faltering she drops lipstick blade andTo an honest mirror she turns...What ever happened toThe smiling girl?What ever happened toHer innocent future?Tears fade to a calm stareWhich unravels a soulful grin;A u-shape of acceptanceTo new challenges she mus
Thy Fallen AdamO father, thou hast forsaken me.Thou hast breathed essenceInto these corpse lungs, and yetThou had cast me outInto this cold black with no regret.Why dost thou shudder so father?Thine eyes were the first IBore witness to in mine blossom.'Ere did that grace of life ebb within;Yet thou did but blench and lookNo more upon thy creation no farther.Dost thou have stomach to embrace?O father, I ought to have been an angel,But alas thou hast sewn a villain's faceTo hide mine internal beauty.O father, why thou elude me of love?Thou elude my diabolic presenceWith thy Prometheus hands, and stillThy plague am I to thouIn pestilence dire I maketh thou ill.Where dost thou go to weep father?Look! Even stars insult my frameNe'er did the celestial offer me comfort,Yet thou would dare mock too.Only shallow rain cries tears ever blue.Dost thou have conscience to behold?O father, did thou not dream me as mortal,But I am a patchwork of nightmares oldAs a mirror of thy own cruelt
she suffers melancholy like the plagueshe cannot raise her voice to reachthe notes that she adoreswithout the ocean escaping from her eyes,and she cannot kneel in prayerto the god that she tries to lovewithout copper staining the pavement,but she can scream into a room and not be heard,and she can deprive her stomach and not be seen--but oh,these are not the type of talents to be appreciated,to be loved without condition,and so nobody does.
The Time Has ComeThe time has come.I've preparedI've listenedI've ponderedI know thatmy choices are limited.Don't stop me, your efforts are futileThis is how the story ends.Goodbye.