As Insubstantial As Cigarette Smokei.they wrapped me through with police tapebefore i was born;yellow silk fetters entwined amongthe arches of my ribsand along the hollow bumps of my spinelike a warningbinding back what leviathan layindistinctand waitingin the duski've searchedandsearched and never found it,but they promise me,(oh promise me it's there).ii.i've tried to call down the sun from up highbecause i didn't like the way it made everythinglight.i prefer the darkness.(they've told me that'swhere i belong,hidden away for whatbetter purpose i have yet tounderstand.)iii.i'm drowning in shadows vague and empty,and all the wrong wordsi never gathered the courage tospeakbecause with each whisperanother remnant of what sky i used to knowcomes crumbling down,and i always bloody my handswhen i pick up the shards.i tried to tell themthat everything falls to pieces.they shook their headswith jaded smilesand told me not to worry.but they are reflective, i say(i scream);they sho
Sleeping Behind the WheelI want you to sing me a songto erase all my preconceived notionsabout life, love, and (listless?) dreams.I want your voiceto conquer all my past--the beast that plagues me.I want you to whisper words so sweetthe day may finally rest.Because I've been awake for years, now--and I need a little sleep.take me away--redeem me with your noteslike fables, like promises,like wishes made a million times beforetake me away--to that place between my mind and heaven,that doesn't exist.because there, I can be comfortedinto oblivionbut mostly,ignore the life I've spenttrying to tally all I've done wrongI want you to write me a lullaby.(I want you to lie)I want to fall asleepwith a dream in my eyes(instead of tears.)and I want your thoughts to bewhat gives that all to me.There's got to be more than this, I don't want to just exist
Innocent Purgefingers not full grownstill manage to pull freeundesired caloriesand a mother's fear"honey, please"says the mom who has too manyworries and wrinkles forher daughter of nine"please"tears spring forthfrom wells not seensince her own pitiful choices"you're already beautiful,and there are so many better waysplease, please, pleasedon't make my same mistakes"tiny fingers just long enoughto grasp at insecuritiesand struggle with feelingsof inadequacyI want to be prettydrain her emptyin the filthiest of cleansingsthe mind of a child can't comprehend irony,and that is her only solution"but mommy" she chirps"I'm fat"off-white porcelainstained with promises of perfectionfrom a girl too youngto know the consequences(or the reasons)she smiles a broken smilebecause she's almost thereand she's unawareshe lost part of herself she'll never get back"please, don't do what I did.please, don't be like me.""but mommy," she says"I already am"and the cycle repeat
Amnesiacsmaybe you forgot how towake up without screaming.she smiles like a broken dawnand the meek will inherit theearth, if they don't drown,first. she's barely breathing;trying to grow gills becauseit's only in the state of dyingthat we adapt.and you won't see the colorspouring out of her chest, youwon't hear the ebbing swansongshe hums so quietly.you didn't come to be reminded.you inject a little further, a littlecloser to the heart. numb.(she died the day shewas given a name)she made you promise neverto be a number, or a majority;she made your heart beat in a waythat made you think you were alive,but you can't believe in anythingthat lasts longer than a minute.you shut down. fingersclose around an empty bottle,a flaccid tongue writhesand it tastes bitter.she's too close, you can hearher thoughts unwind, you cantaste her mistakes. it's too real.you were never human, youtell yourself so you can beconvinced it was never valid.she's too close andher eyes
I'll Be There When the Wind Blowsione day I'll be nothing but a whisperin the swollen sky, which ebbs and flowswhenever you choose to open your eyesthis voice will be lost in the onslaught,and I'll fade into my greatest fearsiimy thoughts have been known to shatteron occasion, into fine powderthat scatters in the face of executionI always worried roots grown in unstable groundand remembering the way my body was builtwould free the catastrophes sighing within meit's easier to succumb to future's inevitabilitiesthat welcome you with undefined armsiiisometimes I release pieces of myselfbecause I don't like the story they tellabout the history written in my palms, unrelentingI wait these weighted hours until darkness ascendswhere night sings lullabies of landsthat I never quite belonged toivone day the moon will shine a little too bright,and I will evaporate into nothing buta faint whisper, not worth the strain needed to hearI will be lost in the transmissionsof those who meant more than me.and
Walls Come Tumblingyou've a soul of gold,a feat untold in ourlonely rusted worldyou make clouds morethan a fable- you enable beaten downdreams to finally soaryou have words like oxygen,necessary to live, treasuresyou would readily give we wish upon them all who try to stand so tall. in the end, why is it every person seems to fall? not you.I imagine your chest singsall answers, which your mouth thentries to translate and sharedoes your heart grow weightedor are you really free?if you're truly so wonderful,why stick aroundwith the lost and found?there's nothing nice to be. we're tainted. broken. here, backbones hold priority over silken hands, a steady heartbeat and eyes that really see.those tongues who like the tasteof truth, even freshly born,
Without Wingsshe spoke in lullabiesand breathed out wishes-she hoped and prayed for fairytales so oftenyou could trace the dreams in her veinsshe strived for worlds that didn't existand she lost her heart without being awareshe ever gave itup.she needed to run away-because she lived in a house of mirrorsand she was scared of the sightof her own faceshe had to teach herself to walkbut she couldn't run(or fly)and she was stuck, groundedwatching time pass her bysometimes you forget how to countthe daysshe withered awayher veins, barren of dreamsher eyes glossed over till she was nearly blindtoo apathetic to be afraidbecause monsters weren't to be fearedand happily ever afterwasn't to be expectedwhen he found her, she was fallenshe said"I was built with hollow bonesbut I'm still not strong enough to pick myselfup"her ribcage had caved in to thatempty hole that used to hold her hearthe lifted her upwith silky eyes andstarry whispers and said"i
Stitching Wounds with Stringent FeelingsYou breathe me in with desperate, shriveled lungs--for I am a sordid necessity.My words are like a salve for judgments hungso selfishly upon your blatant needs.And maybe you're a martyr in your eyes--surprise, I see you lynched by your own thoughts.Self pity and resentment are a guiseto hide the nothingness that starts to rotyour blackened insides. Take me into you,feel whole from my magnetic pull towards thoserobotic dialogues you think so true.Just take me in, only the Lord could knowreflections meet you with a deadened stare.You distant angels never really care.
Floodgate EyesPlease promise me something better,even if it is a lie-- sometimes believingis enough. (sometimes knowing is toomuch. tomorrow I will wake upand travel a little farther down the roadto my own self-destruction. You aremy crutch.)I won't look back, I'm already wrapped upin my fears of the moment. An intricateweb of justifications and anxiety istethering me to these uncertain feelings.Would you finally cut me freeif I caved into you? BecauseI think I'm getting close.And I think I read the world all wrong,but I can still play along.because selling yourself short never didanyone harm, and besides, I'm alreadypretty cheap. I think tears used to beworth something-- I forget.(Sometimes a pit forms in my stomachjust to prove I've done something wrong.It spreads like cancer, morphing me intosomething new.These moments have never meant less.)I promised myself I wouldn't die untilI was strong enough to leave something behind.Until then, I'll just reinforce my
Loving YouTerrified and scared emotions that never leave.Pain and denial feelings more like plauge.destruction and blood
DenialDenial:He stands before the mountainsand sighs, knowing that they reach toward the heavensHe begins his climbhis hands soon bloodied, his fingers digging into the hardened stoneHe continues to drag himselfagainst the crags that scrape against his peeling skinUnwilling to end his climb prematurelythough the rocks continue to slice into his fleshBlood is drawn with a single desperate gaspas pain rings out throughout his frameHis feet tremble and his hands grow numbbut still he continues to climb ever higher...The winds threaten to throw him from the face of the mountainand they slowly begin to waste him awayHis body turns to dust and is scattered away amongst the cloudsBut still he presses on!Eventually, all that is left of this manis a pair of hands clinging stubbornly to the rocksand though the winds may blow, the man's spirit wills them onInch by painful inch they climb, undetered and utterly determinedFor even if he lacks a body, even if he has nothing lef
Wonders of Creation©LonewolfpuppyA release of mind.Logic and rulesdisregarded.No time to think,Just idea after idearunning to the page.Packs of pens at the ready,Fingers racing on the keyboard,Pencils and paints, open and waiting.Two hands that can't work fast enough,Paper that's just too small,Light that's almost not needed.Sparks light the room,Dreaming states are entered,A river becomes a tsunami.Colours warp,Words rearrange,Music twists and turns.If only to be captured on camera,Through mind's eye,The wonders of creation.©Lonewolfpuppy
Sinner's PrayerSinner's PrayerAlone riding on the eternal road.Home is left behind burning in flames.Screams of the city echo across the dry land.The sky is red as blood turns into black smoke.The city burns and screams in agony.The sunset is drowned in the blood of thousands.The road keeps going on but I can still hear.I hear the screams of all those sinners.They scream for redemption.Begging for death.I gave it to them.I've burned their bodies and souls.They are pure from all the sins.But now they scream since they die.The flesh burns and it becomes black.The bones break and turn into ash.The souls depart with the final dash of light.And it all becomes quiet.Screams no longer echo in my ears.The land is in silence.The Gods are silenced.Cruel the world is.Mercy the death is.And the devil is laughing.The road goes on and I rid on it.Reaching the next sin city.The sun fades with red light.Drown by the blood and screams of another city.Another sin is redeemed.Heaven is clo
eight things about growing up.eightI told my brother I was going to be a fairy when I grew up. Or a bird, or sprite something with wings so I could touch the clouds.I learned that fairies weren't real when I was six, after I tried to jump off a parking structure to see if I could fly.That day I also broke my leg in three places and saw an angel's face in the clouds. (And don't tell anybody, but sometimes I spend all day looking for him.)sevenMy neighbors back in Denver had a son who was a schizophrenic. After he went off his meds for the third time, he painted the windows red and told his wife she had to abort their baby because it wasn't human.A year later, I heard that he was arrested after pointing a hunting rifle on his family. It was loaded, but he didn't pull the trigger because his mother said she trusted him.I guess love is kind of like that, too.sixSeattle didn't come until I was fifteen, in October.My family and I took a boat ride on Friday. We listened to the captain
Aren't You Ashamed Yet?Aren't You Ashamed Yet?:A MaskTruly an object of mystique and mysteryA simple device, with a painted layerThat conceals a face of rotting wormsOh, I'm sorry, was I supposed to overlook it?Let me rephrase it in a more appropriate mannerYou are a cowardly, pathetic, miserable, filthyUnintelligent, soul-sucking, perfidious, bag of rotting wormsYou who once held my respect, you who were once my friendyou shared in my secrets and you shared in my dreamsBut in the end, it was the liesThe horrible, filthy lies that spew forth from your tainted lips...I guess it was a simple decisionI had no need to keep up this facadeand so I decided that I too should enjoy this gameand I began to taint my lips with liesOh how I enjoyed your anguish and misery...That wonderous feeling of having you squirmand before I knew it, I found myself wearinga mask to hide those rotting worms...-Chen Yuan Wen, 9th
RunI need to escape,I need to be free.I must surely run wild.I long to laugh and see.Run, run I shall run out of fear.I will flee from the threat.I shall go far not near.A place that is safe,That is what I need.I need no familiar faceSo, I take off with speed.Forget what I have leftFor it is surely gone.Time is running out,They will be awakened by dawn.So, I gather my thingsAnd swiftly go away.There's nothing left for me hereAnd no reason to stay.But I'll admit, I'm glad that I'm free.After years of being controlled, I can finally be me. ~M.E.B.~
Insanity of Patience.Patience is a virtue.I've learned this to be true.But I lack the skill of being patient.I expect instantaneous results for everything in life.If I want something, I want it now.Oh how flawed my thinking is.Nothing worth having comes easily.It takes what seems like eons to finally become your own.Especially Love.It can take years, even decades for love to grow.It requires the utmost patience.Something that I lack.I want this love to grow but why does it take so long?I miss you now, therefore I want you now.But I've let you go, so you can grow.Growth is such a slow process.But my darling, I miss you.Your smile, your laugh, your hugs, your kisses; your entirety.I'd give up my soul just to lay close and hear your heart beat.Your beauty has entranced me.This entrancement is as strong as the day we met.I'd give up everything I have just to hear you say I love you once more.Please come back to me again, my love.This waiting game is driving me completely insane
imminenthushthere is a nothing inside mei am lying fallow with mysplit skin and hollownesscapture me here and hold mewrench apart my ribs andlet me feel your handsaround my hearttwist mei will not be remade.
misericordiathe stars are lost soulspulsing from the hollowwounded sky. i hang them there,from strips of rag and fable.when they burst it ispaprika.if i am myself thenwho are you? strike out,strike in. we are talkingthrough lack of sleepand broken bottles. weare all dying fromthe music in our lungs.and when i can no longersee the stars, how will iremember that death is onlyan option whilst morticiansare in fashion?
monster.we watched horror movies together in the back room of the shittiest apartment on the west side. the more blood and cheap effects the better you liked them. i was always worried you might be getting ideas. that you might have been too focused on the red and the way it was forced out and how you could replicate in it in full HD.most would worry about you replicating it on someone else, like the media is forcing down my throat. god dam this world makes me mad sometimes. too busy trying to stop people hurting other people, that they don't notice those hurting themselves.i noticed you. no-one else did though.i never understood how your heart could be so big for everyone else, but never enough for you. i have never wished for anything as hard as i did when it came to you. i wished for you to heal, for god to swap our places and give your burden to me. i swear if it meant keeping you by my side i wouldnt care if i never saw the light again or if my knees buckled every single morning under t
the dying star of your memoryupon returning homei unzip my weary skinand push my hands deepdeep into the startling bloomof my intestineswhere each calamitous minutehas crystallizedminute gems of doubtpiercing my bowelsof course, I remove themonly to fix each damning diamondinto the ceiling above my beda constellation of regretand i am an early-morning cosmonautsleeplessly orbitingthe dying star of your memory
BurialWhen I speak I see my psalms, bathedin the grease of carlight andevery day I make my way homewithout you, trodden downby roads, my body flat.These winters keep myfingers blue, my mouth quiet -and you're a little circle in my nightlike a moon, balled up in my chestright in the place where I howl.Like we're sleeping side by side.
EstrangedLife's strangeness is not "Why are we here?"Nor gripping a stone on the beach,dull and glazed with watery texture,wondering how what is solidis so slippery.The absolutely absurd alsoescapes analysis;we know it to be life.Our difficulty is in the trying.A sign of love exchanged by two -nervous, afraid, seeking affirmation -and only hearing the sound of silence,the pale, fluorescent library lightvaguely recalling the moon.
writer's blockstranded on an island scantilydressed in moonlight, you stareat roiling water resembling ahorizon of interweaving wordsbut when you lift your right hand,spirals of silence shacklethe weightless sounds
cigarette smoke.dear c,this morning i woke up to the smell of cigarette smoke burningthe air and i thought of the nights we spent by the ocean,sitting on the cool sand with our toes entwined. i thought of thecigarettes dangling over our lips, the way we'd inhale as deepas we could and every time the acrid fumes scorched ourthroats and smoldered in our lungs, we'd laugh and smilebecause when you're as young as we wereyou can afford to dielife is cheap and love is the only thing with a price taglove, j dear c,i was walking through the woods and i saw a little baby birdfall out of a nest. its scream made my ribs seize up and whenit landed, i touched its broken body, touched its little snappedbones and ruffled feathers and cold-dead-still heart. and istarted to cry, even when the little kids pointed at me andtheir parents hustled them away, because i thought maybeif the tears landed on it right, the baby bird would get upand fly far, far away b
heavywhen my bones are breakingi will breathe out with the windclose my eyes and hope for hurricanesto beat against this emptinessa wildfiretearing through the tightness in my throati no longer write poemsjust these words about the sorrows i've swallowedlodged deep in between my ribsmy fingers scraping through layers of skinsearching for my panacea mixed in the blood
Cyanide MindI lost my voicechoking on my own tongue.The words still spill outfrom my eyes.I bit my lips rawhoping to stem the flow,but ideas still dripfrom my fingertips.A soggy brain leaks, I supposeand all my thoughts taste like tar