the bitter words I harbored
were burdens I consciously bore
and though it hurt
I spoke at will
baring my teeth
like a beast
so you would know
the bitter words I harbored
sometimes even a jug of
orange juice can tear through
your sense of self,
a searing hole opening up
dragging you down like quicksand,
and you gasp for air as
long-buried memories escape
like poisonous gas from
the blistered chasm, and
you descend into that
long forgotten pit of darkness
too sudden for tears to be shed
This is the kind of forgetting
that hurts the most.
Let silence cut you open
Let the lush memories extend their
microscopic claws, their fingernails
perfectly horrid, slicing at your chest,
wanting out, wanting to be free.
a monster inside of you? Then
why do you feel so monstrous? So
relentlessly bloody, so stained by
your catastrophic past, so unhuman.
If we are who we are because
of our past then you are
probably a monster after all
but perhaps we’re all monsters
because when life gushes forth,
a crimson waterfall
splashing into life, gushes forth
from your chest, rips you open:
you have nowhere to hide, except
in the dark. And aren’t we all,
more or less, hiding in the dark?
Somewhere inside of me—somewhere
recluse and disembodied—dwells
my various selves that have been
created out of malleable delusions,
whipped into tangible forms
as my one true self deforms, and grows
recalcitrant to my rule.
This intermittent decomposition
of the soul, occurs slowly, while the
mirror loses my reflection
and disfigures my image into
something uncanny and utterly twisted,
turns me into someone I cannot bear to look at.
I cannot live like this anymore.
It is then the portions of my character
stirs with unease, refusing to hide and
scurry in the ditches of my uncertainty
any longer. They thud against my
left temple, wanting out, erupting
from the crevices of my body
and burning my skin. I don’t think
I can hold them in and I shall not try to.
This damned rebellion! The shattered
pieces of my desires waging a sweet war against my
throne of false security and comfort
forcing me to open my eyes, giving me pain
and granting me hope. They yearn for the light,
and I yearn to be free, and on the battlefields
we meet, wanting to be whole, whispering to
each other a promise that will bind us,
forever and ever,
until death do us part.
For years I have struggled from
the indispensability of your words and
this endless resistance has left me
deranged, breathless in a perpetual vertigo.
As I immerse myself in your
indisputable wisdom, I am awash with the
light from your tear-spilled eyes that are
shining with dreams that I used to dream
You stare at me, unblinking, with profound
intention, like a sad, musing raven,
like an unexpected judgement.
I turn away with a jolt of heartache,
And the black inertia, with its venomous teeth,
devours me from the inside.
I have no choice but to rage
with every cell of my being
to pursue a life that does not involve
your innocence and your love
so I can prevent you from being stained
by the dark parasites living deep
down inside the shadows of my soul.
So I tread on glassy roads and I
tremble from the steps that I take
and I break
away from your angellic wings
your beautiful vulnerability
and seek desperately a place
a place where I will never be found
to keep you safe.
Tonight when the clock strikes twelve, it’s your turn to be afraid
You hold me in your arms, because you can’t stand being alone
I let my eyes rest, counting the shadows in your dreams
Shadows shaped like hands in a nightmarish breeze
Those awkward grabs in the muggy air satisfy me
I have found a new way to be happy
They’re coming for you
This is not what you’re hoping to hear
You lower your gaze and take a look at the mess beside our feet
Pieces of my heart shattered, scattered, littered
Everywhere on the living room floor, where we first made love
And also where pleads and mockeries congeal
Rolling back and forth on their bellies
Becoming indistinguishable as a chunk of goo
Like a deformed, melting baby
This is your moment
Your moment of glory. Days ago you reached out to me with your words
Blood trickled down my numb, zombie-face
A blade stuck in my left ear, etched in flesh
While our broken love fought its way in, deadly and corrosive
I had failed to defend myself from this unexpected infestation.
I love you.
I think I understand what an apocalypse feels like now
I have learned how easily a world can end
It’s you leaving me, and it’s as simple and as childish as that
That makes you a good teacher, though you’re not that much of a learner
Which is why you will never understand the jolt of pain in your chest when I slap you across the cheek
You will never understand the anger you feel when I call you a dog-hearted bastard
You will never realize the way your nails curl inward and scoop up your flesh, a shitload of blood gushing out
Even if you’ve seen it coming, you won’t be able to prevent it
You will never find that time bomb I have placed inside of your kidney, which will explode in precisely fifteen seconds
Taking me with you, though I’m already gone
Note: This is not based on personal experience. I do have an ex but I did not plant a time bomb inside of his kidney. Okay, maybe he is stupid, because all ex’s are, but let me just declare my total detachment and non-involvement in the emotions and actions described above. I am merely experimenting with a dark, psychotic voice. And to those of you who’ve been reading my poetry for a while…you’ve probably noticed I’m a pretty dark person LOL but only in my literature, not in real life. Thanks to all of my regular readers ❤ I don’t have a big circle of readership, but I really appreciate the ones who come to my blogs and read my poems.
From Kim, with lots of love, and why am I babbling about this I do not know. 😀
P.S. Oh and yes, I know it’s physically impossible to plant a bomb in somebody’s kidney…it’s more of a metaphorical thing. 😀
The pushed bodies clotting in the veins of a city.
The black cells, armed with batons and horses
Driving them out like the heart trying its best
To pump out the wastes of the body.
But sometimes the heart is too frail.
Helpless turtles turned on its metal shell
Molested by fists and voices.
Despicable fish-mouths hooting and whoo-ing.
Dirtied, scraped hands clapping for more.
Ruined faces and broken bottles everywhere.
The explicit romance of lovers. Kisses exchanged in delirium, in another world.
Marshmallows of fire, seen from the sky, oozing out a sweet, overwhelming scent.
They are alive. They are watching us.
This shameless riot gives them breath, gives them life.
Unexpected complications wrapped in ribbons made of tear gas
Sent around the globe like presents by an early Santa Chaos.
This year, for us, a whole city of coals.
I think I know what Hell will look like. A hall of mirrors. That frightens me the most.
So I pray for rain.