Stained Monochrome Wings

Living, Loving The Misery

10-26-13

I'm just going to be

another story -

one of his highly acclaimed stories -

he tells one of his next girlfriends

Like all the rest

of these exes became.

She says one day he'll see;

he loves to live in

a constant misery.

Baby, should I break you?

Should I make your life

a living hell?

Then would you love me?

Stains of Sorrow

05-15-13

My wings still soar

despite the stains

of sorrow

and the cracks

on the surface.

They are monochrome!

Once translucent, iridescent but

stained with

black over time,

but beautified.

Gilded wings no more

despite this I soar,

resisting the air

and falling from grace

down to this earth.

Will my wings shatter

on the way down

with the abrasiveness

of the abuse?

They fade to gray

from the black

and I learn to embrace the air

on the way down

collaborating with the elements

that shape and texturize

these monochrome wings

Forgotten Affinity

05-06-13

Happier

without her in my head,

my life aglow,

I can focus on the Delight.

My once affinity,

once infatuation,

I welcome the goodbye

I should have long ago said.

The Struggle to Improve

05-05-13

Crosses on my wrists

like the crosses on my lingerie;

I think: why did life have to play out this way?

Erase the complaints and see light,

you telling me we don't gotta fight.

We may not have our way

but you put it in perspective,

and tell me I have to live.

If bringing boys into my bedroom is a fine

then we'd be doing hard jail time.

Reprimand me

so I may learn my person

and improve instead of worsen.

Two damaged souls

recovering, burning the coals,

continuing daily life

and cultivating our cores

beginning from the roots to our pores.

Two-Faced Facade

04-29-13 (revised 01-07-16)

Would you look past and see

my savior complex is

all about me.

Saving you so you can

bring me to

a world of cyan.

I'm joshing you all,

this facade,

this dangerous downfall.

The loud, carefree facade:

an excuse for the pain

and the

cover-up.

The silent, suicide angel:

who no one cares to know,

or notices.

or even wants to wander

inside my skull.

In Anarchy and Conspiracies

04-19-13

The world's gone to shit,

sitting in wonder,

are we next?

Will we get caught up

in the thick of it?

The ultimate anarchy,

much more chaotic

than the overthrow imagined,

than the peaceful termination

and relapse

wanted by us.

Is it conspired by a higher power?

Is it the will of a God?

What's the difference,

how are we handling this,

when will it stop?

Why do the sick

feel all needs to spread

their ill disease.

The government,

likewise, we wish to break down,

but to reform, to begin a new.

Conceivable Attachment

04-14-13

Arranged a date with Death,

and dying;

a contemplated

felo-de-se;

The day

we went drinking

was barely concrete,

then gray

like the stains on

white pants.

Symbolizing revival

a rebirth and awakening.

Seemingly.

But an attachment conceived

Savior Complex

04-12-13

I feel ready

not presumptuous,

feeling risky and reckless

but ready nonetheless.

Even more ready

to quit,

to start

living again.

Though it's hazardous

to move from the insecurities

that keep me so secure.

The norm way of life that

contain my sanity

in the detonation of insanity.

I will break from my comfort zone

for you

but more for me.

For my own welfare,

endorsed by you.

Every moment of life,

all of my life

I wanted to run.

Run from

only myself,

the nagging fears of

anxieties that never existed,

the pain,

the vexation of your desecration.

I was tearing myself apart!

in an stolid world.

I deemed it excusable.

Pitiable it was,

it worked, and I was contented

for a year plus span,

after so many years of

withstanding harrowing events.

It all bleed out in colors

on paper;

In words,

also on paper;

and on agony-riddled,

rust-stained

computer keys.

My wanting to routine a God

came into play.

when I was okay,

I was more than such.

Harmonious. I was moving mountains

and promoting peace.

A flourishing figure, with a bright skull,

a silken future, though a green Dreamer.

It became my fallback,

fairly fortuitous at that,

then my fallout.

I overly scrutinized and fostered,

smothering all akin without

really ever hearkening.

“It was okay,” I read,

“to be this way.”

I continued,

“We all become robust

and bloom in the spring.”

I felt omniscient;

it worked for a God,

why not for mortals too?

A very blasphemous thing to preach

without the all-knowing

without the comprehension craft.

It's not okay, and we don't always florish.

And it's time to break the cycle,

cut the cords with the Devil.

Even now, I play God.

(You – read the robotic lines above!)

Through my scriptures, I play God.

Even when I try not to,

I revert back,

and I play God,

but not quite as bitter

nor demanding I beckon.

Things I deem problematic,

my self-un-admitted God Tier being one,

maybe they aren't faults

of a lacking character.

It may be perception

of those who've told me

it was wrong all along.

Poked at by doctors

who said it was a disorder,

one disorder too many;

by therapists

who said I needed correction

and further counseling;

by my parents

who've I disillusioned

with rebellion and no fucks given;

by my peers

who I've fooled with my flaws

and hurt without enlightenment

while soliciting empathy.

Or the illicities and vices:

Screaming orange pills

or singing, agile white of others

and bleeding chalky reds,

the entheogen of a legally-rolled plant;

all allure my chemical components.

Even God has his share of sins,

in the sanctimonious acumen of man.

I'm the companion-appointed God,

and you are my radiance,

He who defies this genus God,

dear Atheist,

the speck of luster on this rust.

I can't express enough my gratitude

for you defeating the omniscient farce,

so I brusquely write the last words

upon my scripture:

“Thank You”

With these precedings,

the entities introduced on set,

and everything eventful and noteworthy

I lay my scene

and speak for myself,

stepping down as a God of these people

with the expectation of

having sharpened themselves.

Without this enlightenment

after so many supposed cultivations,

these sophistications and complexities,

would be void forevermore

Invisible Monster

04-14-13

I need you to

look at me and see

the Invisible Monster exists.

Make me feel needed,

please need me.

Breathe adoration into

my pathetic, shallow

existence.

Love me, hate me,

either,

recognize me and

put meaning into myself.

Too weak-willed

to make an alteration,

faineant and abjected.

I cannot endeavor,

with all the effort

and will

in a self-centered world.

Me, me, me.

Putting off this fabrication

that it's all for you, you, you.

Unable to deal without you,

you push me

to the edge;

occasionally away from the edge.

I don't know myself,

in solitary I sit

decaying.

To You

04-03-13 (revised 12-29-15)

A suicide-prevention program

in disguise.

From the kids of the Fucked-Up,

the internally, morally corrupted.

The most desperate people,

the ones with

the strongest of

facades.

They die out, and fall.

they hide it all from those

except the

fellow Fucked-Up.

To you, who told me to kill myself,

who said I should die

and waste away to

nothing;

To you, who told me I couldn't do It

whatever "it" happens to be;

To my mother, to my father

who drove me to the attempts;

To you, who died yesterday

of a suicide;

The agony is our common persona.

Fear it not, seize it.

Use it as motivation

rather than an excuse to take

the easy way out.

You need me,

I boldly implore to the Fucked-Up,

and those who fucked up the Fucked-Up,

but I need you too.

You galvanize my writing,

breathing meaning into these words.

Why should I hate the pain?

It gave me something I should set my sights on.