Posts tagged spilled ink
You, I never had you.
A sip of your own destiny
awaits your attention whilegloom lurks in the corners
while alcoholic fire spreads
in your throat, your lungs already in
ashes and dust wanders in yourveins like crystals without shine;
you, I never had you.Combustion, explosion, emotions
thudding like missile launches in the
ocean with bottoms,
you, I never had you andI am
rocking the cradle of pure psychosis
at its murkiest, one, two, three, untilgloom lurks in the corners
while you watch the cradle fall with
your eyes shut with frightened silence
screaming and kicking you in the heart
so let’s break its legs to destroy, rebirth,
a sip of your own destiny with a cup
full of rust and sickly bacteria, dementia,You, I never had you, but you, I never had.
Source ambiguous-transparency
Bodies dripping yellow,
gold,
lantern faces burning
warm-breathed glow,
searing ruddy cheeks
in the middle where
palms are gentle for
the first time since
the light was stolen
from their homes.Their cotton were
hastily stitched in
broken-glass shops,
torn at the seams
where fingers scraped
against thighs, so
they left their clothes
home in Denmark
because it was much
too warm here, in
the summer, and
they were told to
keep the luggage
light.The papers told them
to hide so they stashed
their touches away
behind closed doors
to the annexed room,
smuggling sugar for
their sweet, sanguine
tongues like the rebels
they fell in love as.Their breaths stepped
in line behind the
soldiers outside
since adrenaline
courses through veins
like the tea they’re
not allowed to buy,
and they’re making
love in the dark when
the light is off because
everyone wants them
dead.
Source tempest-at-noon
I slipped
my name
between
your teeth
because
you always
said that
the sweet-
est things
were etched
into the
insides of
your cheeks.But you bit
my bottom
lip because
you were
tired of
rum and
knew where
I hid the
vodka,and you
slipped
the tip
between
my legs.
Source tempest-at-noon
I woke
And saw a girl
And in her hands
She held the world
And when I begged
Her, please, to stay
She dropped it all
And ran away.
I followed her
Into a glen
Void of the vanities
Of men
A glen so green
My heart did weep
I tripped on branches
At my feet.
And then the girl
Appeared, above!
She took from me
All feels of love.
So now I lie
A foppish child
Who dared to capture
A girl so wild.
Source ialwayslandonmyfeet
Your efforts
at punishmentfall
on
deaf
ears
my dearI am slightly amused
at the way old habits
revive
even though they were
shot down so many times
in the pastI am not frightened by
idle threats
conversations ended abrupt-
ly
insinuations and inappropriate
adjectives
I may not be a saint
but experience has taught me
p a t i e n c eand it just takes a little time
for you to reflect on what
anass
you
are
(I’ll wait)
Source bluesandbarebones
I invoke the Muses, but where
are they in this psychedelic age, where we
are held in hospital rooms by
somniferous drips that muddle our
minds? The doctors say that they
will cure this delirium that creeps in
from the dark and entropic corners of a
psyche marred by razorblade rivulets running
from my wrists and dripping
from my fingers. The doctors say that they
will kill my Muses.
I invoke the Muses, but where
are they in an age where the gods
have been chased from the sky, where
Prometheus tramples the
imperfect perfection of the
Moon? The doctors say this age is
glorious, they boast of science
and bury me in toroidal magnets
mapping the corners of my deepest
secrets, the ones never spoken, laid
out in liquid crystal where the
doctors can point and say “This means that
you are…”
The Heliconian slopes sleep silent, the
slender-ankled Muses driven out.
Helios has fled the sun, leaving a silent
furnace of hydrogen and helium.
The Nereids have left the shores of the sea
and the stars, seeing no more, are swallowed by
the lights of cities, the past paved over.
I know where the Muses have gone, the
doctors tie them to gurneys and lock them in
wards, where those who would sing of wonder
instead wander in hospital gowns and,
diagnosed, their dreams slowly drown.
Source submarinedreams
A playwright would compose truthful soliloquies
limning the bruises left by strong, squeezing hands,
eternal burdens on tender pale skin from ages past.
But my cherished audience held no faith in these lines,
mistaking me for the actress I would never become.
They returned my words and I swallowed them down,
choking alone backstage.
But my love, I am so cold here in your arms now.
You give your heart to a starlet long laid to rest,
a performer whose breath was stolen by angry hands.
His fingers improvised, rewriting the happy ending
bitterly on her neck; her gasps for air, the final lines
as black spots eclipsed the bright spotlights.
Gone by curtain call.
Source anacoluthiac
the thing about moonlight
is the way it hits the curve of bone
and drowns out the ivory appealit’s slow and carefully planned
(sunlight just isn’t the same)
it isn’t something you’re able to hide
(not that sunlight is but
why would you want to hide it
anyways?)you can’t hide your thoughts in
moonlight
(i want to i want to)
it’s like (lambs to slaughter) another
wild (fire) night
Source smallwords-smallworlds
Awash in moonlight and the blood
of those who cried beneath my
jagged tooth and hooked claw, I
forgot myself in the deepest hollows
of night —I forgot your names,
and I forgot your faces,
pale like dying star-shine,
and I forgot myself,
living within a hollow shell —But when the sun found me stripped
and famished in the forest’s leafed
womb, back arched as I begged what
vomit threatened itself to come past
my copper-tasting teeth, I remembered
the howls of those who had run from me
in the hours before, more raw and natural
and anguished than I could ever unleash
Source pseud0nymph
In and out the world fades
The blackness slithers it’s way in to the present
(It only wants my constellations)All this bitter gold turns to grey
It prays to keep me away from heaven
In and out the world fadesMy thoughts turn into swirls of haze
Confusion keeps my hopes in crescents
(It only wants my constellations)The red of my heart begins to lessen
I never wanted to decay
In and out the world fadesLoneliness glitters in dark-eaten days
It captures my buried essence
(It only wants my constellations)Demons crawl and beg me to stay
I’m not meant to become evanescent
In and out the world fades
(It only wants my constellations)
Source wintriestmoods
That darkness lets the devils loose
Out of the vents they creep up
between the sheets, by my legs
Stealthy sneaking past my torso
Grazing my neck gently, making their
way into my right ear, planting
themselves firmly in my soul
Creating irrational thoughts of war
set to polka music with strange wing-ding creatures firing guns at me in my dreams.Paralyzed by these sights of loved ones
dying in chaotic wastelands not much
unlike our world, you’d think I’m sleeping
well if you broke in my house and watched me snooze. You’d think I’d be up the next day filled with vim, vigor and vitality. You’d think that…No, no…
My body does get a great sleep
All my aches and pains abate nicely
But I still suffer, worse than if I’d stayed up the entire night, tossing
like a ship on the ocean, making
sleep far more traumatizing than
real life. The anxieties I’ve fought
roar back as horrible nightmares creating the most devastating
delusions, cutting right into safe zones
of my mind once protected by walls
made of the toughest strength that once repealed the most obscenely irrational tales, that if I were to share
with you, I’d have trouble faulting you
for laughing.That’s sleep these days. Whoopee!
Source thedailyzack
im a killer with a death wish
oh, im the barrel of a gun
waiting to shoot you dead
by pretending to be something i could never become
oh, im a time-bomb baby
itching to explode
blinding all around me
by dressing up these woes in make-up and short skirts
fake and short-lived dreams
of someones arms around me
or someone else’s out
fucking up my bloodstream
so maybe i can just forget
all the things that ail me
and i admit im changing, baby
who could be the same?
when the world shifts around me
or a heart draped in lonely things
tears, chills, and “promise” rings
so watch me blow up, baby
watch my dramatic downfall from a world that only made me a fool
for trying to become all these things
if only for attention,
if only to forget,
if only to feel a little less lonely as i slept.
Source trust-the-invisible
Suspended in life
by invisible threads
Feet dangling
just a whisper away
from solid ground
Stretching, straining
trying to gain a foothold
But traction remains
just out of reachSo I resigned myself to
a marionette’s pose
without a puppet master
or the motivation
to propel myself—- until —-
Complacency with stagnation
is broken by the
panicked realization thatI’m not dead yet.
Source embeeness
“He’s got bones just like his father,”
she said, clamping her hand,
over the face of her newborn son.“He’s got eyes that could swell up the ocean,”
she says as she tightens her grip.
And now he grows blue,
and starlit—with surprise.The nurses rush in,
trying to revive,
his infantile,
frail body.This is her endless banter,
from her bed,
the story she can’t stop telling.“Starlit…with surprise” she mutters.
Creaking back and forth on her holey,
blue-stripped mattress.
“My son” she said.
“Is a star,”
she would say that in group,
and laugh for an uncomfortably long,
extension of time.At first we assumed she meant,
movie star,
pop star
—even rock star.But no she means literal star,
like a sky constellation.
And I’m at a loss “I don’t know what to do.”
He admits slamming the clipboard down,
in front of a colleague.“She’s crazy.”
He comments,
pulling at his hair.The man sitting across from him,
chuckles darkly.
“Precisely why she’s here,
my friend,
patience,
shall be your virtue.
Keep it close,
it is your friend.”3AM.
Sterile halls,
quiet squeaking,
of shined oxford shoes.Pen tapping,
clip-board marking.
“Doctor, doctor!”
A frazzled nurse screams,
with lopsided hair.
She seizes my white lab coat,
in the fullness,
of her tiny hands.“It’s …her…”her she manages,
her voice is rising and falling,
in abnormal,
breathless patterns.“Sit down,
just sit down.
I’ll go check.”I guide her to a nearby bench,
and break into a run.3:15AM
Arrive in the patient’s room,
cold and dark,
knelling on her mattress,
with her hands folded in front of her,
laughing, no.
No laughing,
more like maniacal,
soulless cackling.”Quickly,
I slam on the lights.
Young boy.
Medical bracelet,
gleaming in the light,
patient 3.Hanging,
blue faced,
from the fan.
She starts speaking,
from the bed.
“You see,
someone,
is in here.”
She motions to her chest.
“And he will not,
leave me be.
Until there are enough stars in the sky,
and that’s why he sent me.
So I can create things that he can see.”
Forget the media.
I make stars.
Forget the media,
I make stars.”Frozen,
I carelessly slam off the lights.3:30AM
Flip open the intercom,
“Room 6.
Elevate the patient’s status.
We need no more stars,
in this night sky.”
Source acollectionofsleeplessnights