Beige walls form clouds of dust and aluminum.
Translucent flames drift into my eyes.
A shallow fall to serenity welcomes my soul.
Graciousness separates the luscious, as well as the surprised.
EtherealI rest nearest the platforms of arctic air.
Motionless, and without remorse.
Upon doves of grey feathers, my spoken phrases glide.
A plentiful silence graces the frozen soil - tranquility.
My ashen palms emit auras of depth and demise.
Furthermore, my placement progresses.
Rains to cleanse.
Glasses to gleam.
Patience swallows its pride.
A PonderingIf one's progression issues forms of extermination, are they to move forward, regardless?
Salt, seeds, and endless evenings are details which brew writings of certainty, although, such are not received as perceived.
And if the curtains were to silence themselves, and the pests retreat without a publishing, would I ensure tranquility?
Ponderings present themselves adequately; wisdom.
Such is drawn with impossibility's red ink, my child.
A permanent, pleasing thought of opposites lingers pleasantly among the eyeless cattle.
Polishing exists eternally - cease not your composition, my dear.
ObservationEyes of my own engulf frozen soils.
The lingering poisons disrupt a common thought.
Salvation encrusts itself namelessly and without praise.
Similarities peak formally, and also without doubt.
A Constructive KingdomArise from the dusts, my child.
(Compositions reign highly in your favour of trust.)
String along your tattered visions.
(Ponderings of certainty shall play fairly in your court.)
Wishful bliss shall construct your jester.
(Tattered, prideful, and negating a conscience.)
Gluttonous proportion shall construct your king.
(Ignorant, lustful, and without hesitation.)
Desire and irritability shall construct your queen.
(Sociable, liable, and turning from dreams.)
And you, my dearest, shall initiate a cause.
(Tallest, purest, and with termination of flaws.)
Ponder your being, and grasp tightly your claws.
For I rest as the damned, and thrive as what was.
ProcessA spoon departs the tips of my fingers.
Ponderings of greenery.
Spillage of assets.
.Pastes of pity.
A vanishing, perhaps?
.Beauty.Collagen dresses marketed through mirrors-
Of bubbles and acceptable measurements-
Supplement my spreading titles-
As I ensure beautification-
Throughout oceans of creams-
Toxicities of stitches-
Powders of plastics-
I pile skins into plethoras.
I mold feathers into lye.
I sew parched salvation.
I send them afloat the cosmic sky.
Thoughts and RottingA clockwork scenario of terror's introductions floats within the unconscious sheep.
Hastily and without knowledge of plentiful cleanliness, such gasses are drained through cracks which creep.
Along follows vibrant dosages of blackened ignorance and solemn grace.
Held in pill shapes, simple pill shapes; each remains within a stretching face.
Calmly, three lovely flowers, calmly they shall ingest the suggestions which freeze.
'Twas guarded such ices of plagues and pressures; further upon slivers you are left to the breeze.
And lastly, although, never softly, judges a translucent pen lacking metallic ink.
Observation silences such with tongues; a plea slowly rots, as petty minds to think.
Apology..I know that it bothered you,
it's so plain to see.
And now you'll do what you have to,
just to avoid me.
Trust me, I understand.
And It's just what I'd expect.
'Cuz I hate who I am,
and so do all the rest.
I'm a stupid, rage filled, jerk,
and a psychopathic freak.
But I'll still try to make it work,
so here's my apology..
I'm sorry if I lost my grip,
sorry I lost control.
I'm sorry I'm such a piece of shit.
But please say you wont go.
I know I'm not the best of guys,
and I know that I'm no good.
But will you let me dry your eyes,
And try and be the way I should?
I can learn to open up,
and learn to cage my wrath.
'Cuz you know that no matter what,
you're my first, my only, and my last.
And I know that just "sorry"
will not be good enough.
No excuses, lies, or stories,
Not towards the girl I love.
I swear that I will fix,
all my damaged parts.
I swear and I'll do it,
to win back your heart.
If you still feel unhappy,
it'll be okay,
to hold me, hit me, or hate me.
Or even push me away..
Unfair ExchangeI see what ive done,to you and to me
I live with it and along side of it
I see it,feel it,and im very aware of it,and of you
I wove a web and caught you
And then i tried to love you as you tried to break free
I was a trap,someone smaller then i appeared
a projection of what i could be,of what i wanted to be
but that was never truly me
a catch 22 with no release
I opened and closed doors like i blink my eyes
And now im left standing here
with no truly solid ground under my feet
awake and not dreaming,this is entirely real
i am a living observer of what could have been
this is hello and good bye
All at the same time..........
NoNo you can’t do that!
No you can’t have that!
No we can’t afford that!
No that’s not healthy for you!
No you can’t stay up that late!
No you need to loose at least five more pounds!
No that college won’t accept your lazy self!
No that’s not perfect!
No a ‘98’ can’t be your best!
No you can’t make a living from writing!
No you can’t do what you dream!
No, no, no, no, NO!
I’m so tired of ‘No’!
Yes you can just sit there like a good girl.
Yes you can eat all these protein shakes and vitamins.
Yes you can be the perfect person I want.
Yes I’ll go take a bunch of advanced classes I’ll never pass.
Yes I’ll go become an engineer like everyone else.
Yes I’ll give up on my dreams cause they’re stupid.
Is that what it w
Her voiceI hear her voice
She screams my name
She is angry against me
I pray to relieve my pain
She punishes my mistakes
She wants my suffering
I pray for my forgiveness
She wanted a true love
The only thing that I have given is a lie
Talk to me.
Tell me what shattered your heart inside.
Your heart is beating, yet, you're not alive.
You're hearing, yet, you're not listening.
You've become a black shadow.
I can see the demons in your eyes.
Your eyes have glazed over.
Your life is coming to an end.
But yet, you're still healthy, still alive.
You smile to hide your pain.
But you're slowly dying inside.
You keep saying 'I'm fine', when I know you're not.
You tell me 'it's just a phase. Don't worry'
But I've never worried so much before.
You're like a leaf
Your beauty slowly withering away, unbeknownst to everyone around you.
Soon, you're going to fall from the tree, and hit the ground.
People will walk over you, ignoring how much pain they've caused your heart.
But hold on.
It gets better, I promise.
Your heart will beat once again.
I'm hoping for a sign of life.
I'm watching for those eyes to fill with joy, like they used to be.
I beg you with all my heart.
PurpleBeats now soft, a thudding in my chest, a heartbeat intensifying.
Beating faster, embracing the environmental cataclysm sliding down the back of my skull.
The world collapses into pixels, crashing down in an electronic funk.
An orchestra of mechanized beats feeling ferrous fluid warping through my veins.
Upon my skin drips water, a holy water from the angels,
remaining now as a metallic taste that tingles the jaw.
Toxic portals captivating, intoxicating,
deep majestic caverns of ink spraying like the ocean’s waves.
Carefully now, catalogue my movements and translate them into sound.
Translate them into thought, translate them into action, translate them into words made to dazzle and destroy your perception, words to overwhelm the unreliable senses, to leave upon the mind a fractal scar of remembrance, capturing language into a pill bottle and releasing it to float freely to the ears, because those are my words.
And once we’re finished, all which will remain are beads
This Is For YouThis is for you.
This is for you, who would always say that you weren't 'good enough'
This is for you, who would always wish that you were as good as them.
Sometimes, you throw your pencil across the room in frustration when you realize that you'll never be an artist.
Remember when you told yourself that art was a passion that you would never let go?
But yet, it's slipping between your fingers, right now.
You want, so desperately, to be an accomplished artist.
But you never believe in yourself.
It's painful, I know.
But isn't art worth it?
Maybe you just don't know the meaning of being an artist.
It doesn't matter what you do, or how skilled you are.
The fact that you love art, is all that matters; and that's what makes you a true artist.
Don't you remember your art bringing you so much joy?
Now, it seems to do the complete opposite.
It seems like demons are haunting you, telling you that you're 'not good enough'.
You want to know what I say to tha
The Waiting-RoomTime heals all wounds...
What a load of crap.
Because from what I've seen
When someone dies
We sit there with fumbling fingers
Trying to stitch the gaping hole in our heart.
And when we finish we look down and lie "I'm okay."
Because not even the most skilled doctor
Could erase your pain.
Even in sleep you can't escape their faces,
Maybe a good knock out
In the fighting rink
I've heard you don't dream
when knocked out.
And maybe the only reason we die
Is because we miss the ones that left before us.
Even the loneliest man has someone he misses,
Maybe that's the only reason he's lonely.
Also, I've been thinking lately
about what comes after this?
Is this life just a waiting-room for the next?
Or are we deemed to an infinite line of waiting-rooms.
Maybe there's just oblivion.
An oblivion where we're all thrown into,
Regardless of our deeds.
A place were you endlessly search for those that left before you.
But as soon as your fingers touch,
Or your voices
Shattered StarsBroken glass shines under streetlamps like glittering stars,
Like distant lights from far away,
Pulled from their seat in the heavens,
What force could of pulled these stars from their places?
Razor sharp beauty, glittering like forsaken diamonds,
Dashed apon the ground.
Refracted a thousand times,
In the tiny mirrors,
Each with it's own reflection,
A thousand copies of me in the glass.
As I leave, the shards twinkle behind me.
Shattered stars smashed apon the concrete.
Eyes ,windows to our soulI saw her at the Carnival ,
her eyes tell the truth;
they tell stories of her unfulfilled sadness.
Monsters Under My BedMonsters.
Monsters are under my bed.
I would try and get help.
But people would laugh at me.
'There's no such thing as monsters!' They would tell me.
They didn't know how wrong they were.
The monsters were horrible.
They taunted me, raking their ethereal claws across my face, leaving invisible scars.
People wondered why I was so 'different'.
It was the mental scars that changed me, making me into a whole new person.
Go ahead, tell me that monsters don't exist.
I dare you.
But one day, you'll be their next victim.
And you're going to regret every single word that slipped past your lips.
One night, the monsters crawled out of their hiding.
They took my life in my sleep.
But still, no one believed in their existence.
They'll be coming for you next.
Fairer SexHow sad is the existence of women
For from the dawn of time
Our only greatness determined by how many sons we bear
Our minds considered too weak by men
Our sex considered frail and delicate by men
We who endure the cycle of womanhood
We who endure the pain of childbirth
Doubted as leaders because we are too emotional
We who listen before we speak
We who sit silently waiting for our moment we have patience
While men cannot stand waiting
How sad is the existence of women
We who fought for rights and equality
But are still beaten down by the male sex
Men who always see us as weak and bubble headed
The women of this generation no longer stand up
They no longer up hold what their mothers and grandmothers fought for
We who know we are strong but play weak for the mans ego
The Way You Want MeThe way i send electricity down your spine
when i kiss your neck
The way you jump
when i blow into your ear
The way you arch your back
when it is carressed by my nails
The way you close your eyes and breathe deeply
when i push my pelvis into yours
The way you giggle
when i gaze into your eyes
The way it sooths you
when you suck on my finger
The way you taste
when i kiss your sweet lips
The way you want me
when i want you.
Dark Star RisingMy youth was all about evolution.
Transition a novelty
in a world that never stopped turning.
The sun always rose from the east.
Eternally disappearing into the western horizon
in an unending cycle.
The night was spilled ink.
A nebulous backdrop for luminous stars
and a moon in constant metamorphosis.
Dawn would tip-toe over the horizon
chasing away misty clouds of sleep
and a new day would begin.
Growing up in a world of diversity was never boring.
Life shifted and swayed with the seasons,
revolving and mutating at a sometimes frightening speed.
Knowledge and confidence came with age.
Always reaching beyond boundaries into the shadowy unknown,
with a compass as my guide.
I wanted to sprout horns
and become the devil-
To keep the dark stars rising
and stay inside the night.
I wanted to sprout wings
and hold the sun in place-
To keep the daylight forever
and still the hands of time.