Sunday, November 27, 2011

You Are To Blame

My skin is decaying
to the bone,
My limbs are
broken and useless,
My voice is
hoarse- it's barely
a whisper,
My senses
have failed,
I am weak and
it's all your fault.


You're heart shouldn't be
this apathetic towards
the world,
there's so many things to
look forward to,
my love,
you were once so sweet
and had a certain 
mature innocence to you
and now you're so moody
and harsh,
please, I beg you,
stop it,
you are beautiful and I
wouldn't want you
any other way.

Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Bare Your Soul #2

Waking up at the crack of dawn, hearing his soothing, genial voice was like hearing the radiance of an acoustic guitar playing. He stretched his arms upon his head and gave me a lazy smile and greeted me good morning. My soul tingled with electricity. He started to untangle himself from the sheets. Bare naked, his bronze, sun-kissed skin glowed in the dim, gleaming sunlight. He layed next to me, getting in tune with his surroundings, staring at the ceiling with what seemed like a curious fascination. All I could do was stare at his beauty. He doesn't look a thing like James Dean. He doesn't have a muscular structure. In fact, he was quite opposite. But those things do not matter. I'm indifferent with his "lack of fantasy qualities" the typical girl would desire in a man. My hand aches to caress his cheek, to feel his stuble and appreciate all his imperfections, but I restrain it from doing so, not wanting to put him in exasperation. He reaches over to the nightstand grabbing a lighter and cigarette. He places the cigarette between his lips, opening the lighter and watches the end of the cigarette burn crisp, inhaling the nicotine and tobacco. Thin mist of smoke dances up to the ceiling, extending its imaginary limbs to the depths of the room, swirling and twirling like a ballerina. He flicks his ashes and turns his head towards me, beaming with bliss. We uphold our gazes, our brown eyes connecting to each others soul. He grabs my chin with his free hand, pulls me in and lightly kisses my lips, gazing back into my eyes, "I'll go get breakfast." he happily announces.He slips into his over sized shirt, favorite carpi pants and over-worn flip flops. He slithers his fingers through his soft, silky hair, grabs his car keys and wallet and greets me goodbye, dancing out of the door. As soon as I hear his engine start up and his wheels reeving down the the street I sigh of relife and weap of lingering despair. I curl up in a ball under the thin, vulnerable sheets, letting my tears travel one by one down my cheeks. When I am with him, a mask is on. I hide my true feelings and lock up all emotions, swallowing the key. But see, when he is no where near my presence, I hurl the key from my inside, unlock my emotions from my chamber and let myself acknowledge that he is what I can never have. I treat him the way a lover should treat the one they love.
But I am not his lover and he is not mine.

Rainy Day

     She sat at the booth by the window, stirring her morning coffee with a spoon. She gazed out the window admiring the rain. She watched it- a million water drops kissing the ground and ribbons of light wiping the sky. She couldn't help but smile, beaming with a sense of comfort. There was something about the rain that made her feel at home no matter where she was. Whatever worries were weighing on her shoulders, the rain would melt them away, slowly but surely, washing away the excess debris. It was Monday morning, which she considered to be the worst morning of the week, but the rain made it tolerable. She took a sip of her coffee and picked up her lit cigrattee from the tables' ash tray with her free hand and traded the coffee for a delightful, placid drag. The rain got heavier, attacking the windows and the rooftops. Looking outside, everything was blurry. A hazy dream almost. She sighed, even more comfortable and content than before. She placed a 5 dollar bill on the table and causually walked out of the diner's doors. People outside where rushing with their hoods on and umberlla's over their heads into the nearest shelter possible. She smikered to herself. "Why can't they just enjoy the beautifully, chaotic day?" she asked herself.
    She walked out in the rain with great pride. No hood. No umbrella. Just her and the habiliments she was in. She was instantly soaked within the first 5 seconds. Her curly, brown hair was no longer made to perfections, her make up was completely washed off. But she mind no bit, she was utterly callous. She loved the rain. She appreciated the rain. It seemed like the only thing in the world that understood her and her emotions.

Placid Paradise.

To not exsit sounds very alluring,
It sounds placid,
It sounds voided,
None the less, it sounds like paradise,
No feelings,
No thoughts,
No emotions,
Just my body floating perceptually in a pure, white eternity,
Endlessly floating,
Placid Paradise.

(Another) 7-21-11

Excuse me while I try to clear my throat,
It's hard to talk when there seems to be a razor slicing my flesh,
Tears begin to swell up,
Ready to descend upon my cheeks,
My fist clinched wanting to attack,
Like an eagle plunging for its prety,
Overflowing with livid-ness as I watch you walk away from me-from us with such a casual indifference,
Anguish now creeps up upon me,
Throbbing my head and pulsing into my now fragial heart,
I want to ran after you,
Grab you,
Kick you,
Curse you,
Make you change your mind,
But you're pretty obsinate,
In silence,
I let memories loom into my mind,
Letting the anguish take over my sanity,
Letting my world turn ice-cold and bleak.


I dunno whether to fear death or be intrigued by it,
Is there an afterlife or just death?
Should I look forward to my death or shall I fear it?
I picture it to be one of two ways;
Being free of sins, sorrow and suffering in an infinite world of enlightenment- a pure, sane paradise,
Your thoughts and feelings are still intact with your spirit,
Hovering over the ones you love,
Being in their presence when you're in their thoughts.
(Maybe that'll be Heaven)
Or being nothing,
You have no spirit or soul,
No thoughts are feelings,
You just simply die in an enternal abyss of blackness,
Never to exisit again,
Your fingerprints have faded on everything you ever touched,
You have no memories of ever being alive,
You just don't exisit,
You're nothing, forever.

I Wanna Sleep With You

Not sleeping as in "fucking",
but actually sleep with you
on a bitter, winter night.
I wanna cuddle under the covers
giving you sweet Eskimo kisses or
sipping hot chocolate and
watch the snow kiss the ground.
I want our limbs to be tangled
and twisted
and wrapped around eachother,
I simply just want to
sleep with you while being
in your tender arms on a
bitter, winter night.


I'm standing dangeroulsy close to a
thick, sharp knife.
I'm not trying to kill myself, but
I don't think it would be so
terrible if it happen to stab through my skin.
I don't mean to malice myself,
I just wouldn't mind the pain.
It would sullenly make its way
in and spread throughout my body like
a vicious virus-
It could be worse,
pain is only temporary.
I would know.
I've been bashed with fist
of gruffed words, kicked in the guts because
of my disappointments,
I've dorwned in my own
self inflicted solitude, my vocal cords
have been tampered with becuase my words
aren't superior enough to be heard and
metals and debris weigh down
my feet and my delicate hands, bruising
me lividly,
That's why I don't mind stand dangerously close to this thick, sharp knife,
It could be worse and I've
been through worse.


My scars were stitched shut,
wrapped up in my sleeve and
enveloped from the unknown.
Livid, bleak memories impend beyond
my eyes, circling around me,
taunting me and swearing and
threatening me.
Warm, thick, liquid trickles
down my skin, 
The smell of salt and
rust emerge into the air and then
I can feel it.
Not a sudden, quick feeling but a
sudden, piecing feeling 
one by one, I can feel my 
stitches coming undone
Sluggish, in awe,
My skin stretching.
My flesh burning.
My blood oozing.
I can taste it on
the tip of my tongue.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Save Yourself.

We often find ourselves alone,
Drowning in the infinities of our sorrow,
Letting the sea engulf us whole,
Failing to grasp for air,
Failing to writhe from the waves,
Just wanting to float above the chaotic sea.
We expect someone to swim out in the depths for us.
We expect someone to dive below us,
Save us from drowning.
We want someone to be our lifesaver,
But our expectations go unfulfilled.
Reality’s waves-like the seas- crash into us,
Taking us away from the shore,
Swallow us as deep into the sea as possible.
The only one that can save you is yourself.