Skip to main content

Circles

Here’s to never ending circles,
Spiraling circles of pain.

Here’s to hoping it would stop,
The spiraling circles of pain.

Here’s to knowing it never will,
This spiral of pain.

Why does it all mean nothing to me now?
Why don't I feel pain when I should?
Does this mean I cease to be human anymore?
I feel so useless that I’d still somehow function even if my brains were pulled out through my nose.

Is everything ok?
Nothing and everything under the sun.
Fuck sophisticated poetry, fuck eloquent words.

Here’s to being exhausted,
Waiting for this bomb to drop.
And here’s to sleepless nights,
Only getting drunk to fall asleep.

Yeah, I’ve been abused. Yeah, I’ve been put down. Yeah, I’ve been on the mend.
But I never had friends to begin with, so it doesn't matter in the end.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The State of a Rose

The affliction of a rose is of its hue, A deep disgusting red like blood without breath. Oh how it makes a crimson wreck of an amorous nose, A rose. This its clandestine depth: A rose is a rose is a rose And both the adder beneath it. How now is the charming connotation so bequeathed it? Sickness falls once bit upon, It matters not the circumstance thereon. Imbibes of blood, That allergy does, And so leeches this lively dye. Sneeze away this viral pollen, Bleed no more and so it dies. But dogma decrees that so shall it be A pis aller to let decay this eros. Yet, Is there balm in Gilead? As the timelessly exalted syntagma goes? Do these poets sing certitude or chicanery, That there are blessings to be had? So they repeat duet and say, That roses can be sated, That blood set free might return to be ours forever. Did they glimpse the incompatibility of fact and fancy? That rooted roses can be boundless wellsprings, Never to overflow with blooming red recip...

A Serpent

I walked along a pearl river, I strolled across the onyx night, My tail slither. I stalked between the thickening trees, I breezed across the open fields, Mind-poisoning disease. I heard the cries. I felt the boiling air. I smelled the fire. I tasted the bitter hate. I saw her neighbors cast her onto the pyre. She screamed out to me as her body seared. I was drawn in to the ambrosial tempers their primitive natures revealed. She convoked me to make her mark. Drawn closer to the shimmering heat, she welcomed me. These heathens' malevolence brought out by the dark. And so, They heard their babes cease their lungs, My curse wrapped tightly 'round them. They smelled my gift of dead rats in the water. They felt their blood freeze in their bodies, as I released them of their hot-headed hate. They tasted the blood as it came forth from their lips' last empty prayer.

Bloodlust

I've been thinking so much... Death is too easy, I don't want death.... I thought about slicing my thighs open, vertically starting at the knees to my hips ...just the aesthetic of it, flesh peeling back from the bone....It makes me laugh and feel giddy... Laughing SO MUCH. I'm shaking so much from adrenaline. I want to rip apart something with my sharp fangs, feel the blood gush and burst and pop in my mouth. I want to shred something to ribbons, the way I was. I was shredded into ribbons, and hung up to wither in a cold, numb, unfeeling meat locker, mafia style. My heart is palpating, pounding at my chest. I feel so feverish.. SO MUCH BLOODLUST.... So much pain...