Stained Monochrome Wings

Suicide Story

11-05-13

This journal you gave me,

once in love

thought to be so true.

Now to write an anthem

of this hate,

of yours and mine.

Just another exaggerated fable

in your Suicide Story.

You say you're as sane as you've

ever been; as insane I'll interject.

Cry me a river. Everything you say,

this cause of betray,

is the reason why we're all so faraway!

Pushing, pushing, isolation.

Self-harm and mutilation!

Put a gun to your skull,

blow away the bullshit.

For Now

10-15-13

Never do I want to forget:

your taste or scent,

I love it all,

sickeningly.

I dance in the night to our song –

is it still 'our' song? –

and think of it all,

reflecting on years forward

and past.

Will I remember the taste, the

scent that is you?

Will I still feel this love,

think of the good instead of

how I wish there could have been more?

Inside your precious heart

I'm now void.

I'm alone, for now

Forlorn Retrospect

10-02-13

I will give, and give until futility kicks in;

lying as I reminisce

to a sweeter time.

Those live-wired, long nights

of love-making and togetherness.

Bringer of salvation.

High school dances and Chunk.

Sushi dates, cigarettes, sex, Sadie's.

Magic and card games.

I won't have another like you.

Now these supposed 'love' bites

line my skin;

blemishing,

branding, bruising me.

Soon to fade from

forlorn skin.

I don't want anymore,

not these

impassive emotions

infectious.

Before the fall,

I languish over a lover not yet lost;

ambiguity, contemplation.

Hesitation.

I won't know

you don't know.

I wish we knew.

The Nympho and The Satyriasis

10-01-13

Shangri'la contained inside

a couple's adoration,

the instauration to commence.

Lying, he awaits his rosebud

to surge the alabaster, lacteous flow,

imbibed by the lips of a nympho;

flexibility feasible,

sensuality and

scanty clad with a provocative form.

Quippish in nature,

finnicky. Dexterously adept.

Savvy satyriasis;

carnivorous and starved spewing

the silken

epitome of wicked elixir,

a pilose visage.

Affixed by the accessory,

of their love sentimentalized

he could never control her,

neurotic, wanton.

Concurrently coveting

the finale.

Tonight, Tonight, To-marrow

07-24-13

Digging myself a grave

in my scarred arms,

with a R.I.P. stone

screaming 'Self-Mutilation'.

High hopes of a homicide-suicide

Tonight, Tonight.

Every day's a different tale,

I was told as a child.

Every person has problems

and exes.

And exes.

But Tonight, Tonight,

I'll take her life,

a Bloody Mary please -

a small side soup with fresh marrow.

Killer Queen

05-01-13

Only three more months of playing Cinderella.

Then, my Killer Queen, you shall see

how worthless your Kingdom becomes without me.

Step down from the throne,

hold back your tongue,

stop the frequent indulgences

of pointless past-times.

Killer Queen, you're murdering me.

Into The New Realm

03-19-13

Am I about to die

or am I just high?

Pumping feeling in my chest,

cutting out all the rest.

Head like a fucking hammer,

make everything inside clamor.

Shutting down,

realms turn to brown

to cyan, neon, gold,

my brain is mold

as I watch it flash

my nerves begin to thrash.

If Eyes are the Doorway to the Soul, I'm Surely Fucked

05-19-12 (revision 12-29-15)

My vision obscured

twisted and anamorphosed,

and controlled by this pane glass wall.

Limited in soul,

because of this small square;

true beauty lurking

hiding

behind these panes

sealing my soul,

smudged vision, a blurred soul.

The window to my heart,

forever obscured and blocked off

behind these spectacles.

My vision's imperfect

contorted and cracked,

tinted and torn;

Failed, lied to by

these bifocal lenses upon my nose

Eyes are the gateway to the soul,

mine is locked beyond,

slandered by obscenity;

these frames

shape

my

soul

Perfect Imperfection

05-19-11

I say

I don't care

about what others

think of my presence

of the aloof way I carry myself,

of the way I speak,

or of the way I always seem to

always be avoiding the topic.

I feel

I'm unable to take the wheel

to control this urge to

be tangible, to

crave perfection.

I don't care

though it is a lie.

This perfection is needed,

in a world of imperfections

and I was here to deliver.

Too tall, too strange,

too ugly, too fat,

too blonde, too caring,

too insensitive, too bland.

Perfection is something different

to you,

to me, to society.

Perfection is harmony,

equality, beauteously;

inconceivable, unfeasible,

not in this damned lifetime.

Such a craving for this perfection

exists at heart.

These contradictions of my

perfect imperfection,

perfectly stable.

Unwanted Misfits

01-07-12 (revised 12-29-15)

Some love, words to give pride

all that’s wanted is something real and tangible;

painless though secure

Breathe your malice into me

to take, divide and conquer

pasted to the wall, set as this catalysis.

Unwanted misfit; pour all this useless soul

onto paper, and form into something

intangible however fragile.

Fickle love is no more than an excuse

than a fist to this face or

one’s spineless, hollow threats.