Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
There's no 'maybe' about it
The ugly feeling of pallid scars,
Wet and slick with a new
Spillage of crimson red,
Tasting metallic upon my tongue.
The blade, as elongated as my thought
Presses firmly on fresh plump
Skin, harder we go, another
Splash of blood to paint the walls.
The grim protrudes and penetrates
The daylight, elliciting storm clouds
Swollen with acidic truth that
Rains small morsels of honesty
Atop the heads of unruly clowns.
So succulent in design, my scars
Are the only beautiful thing
About me, the way they once
Spilled liquid upon the bedroom floor;
The way they healed dark
To light; the way they made
Me feel slimy with disgust.
The way I was too putrid to stop.
My desires deemed insatiable,
No rehab for my illness,
I sit with tears glistening the
Song of an unbalanced mortal,
Rotted from the inside out
And primitive in appearance.
As primeval as I am, I play
Normal very well, cohesive in
My response that I am well,
A liar among angels,
No doubt, have I become a
Distortion only a worried
Mother could dare to love.
There is always blood to bleed,
A true delicacy that I suckle
Upon at every moment, to
Witness the decay of sanity,
A blackened bliss to me.
The blook dries, looking now like a
Poison upon my person,
I grow clammy and my fingers,
Decomposed from lack of care,
Grow cold under white lights.
I grow glutinous as moments
Get pissed away, so eager to destroy
This pile of mucuous, flesh and regret.
I grow damp with sadness,
I become dank, a basement of a
Person, harboring viscious secrets and
Other useless junk people tend to dismiss.
I spew a ropy rationale and
Get tangled up in these lies
That coagulate as teh sun takes
Its place in teh blistered sky.
My body becomes a grave to be
Desecrated, a hole of litter
And darkness that dances curses
Into the air, a deadly demon
That reeks of pain and suffering.
Entwining the thought process,
I allow sleep to occur, so I
Can distort all the nightmares.
It's been months, I feel so starved.
It's as if a blade is the
Answer to feeling sated.
Hands shaking and the pungent odor
Of fear peers at me, I feel a
Sheen of disaster forming.
Oh my, how heinous this virgin girl!
Cravings grow like roots from a tree.
Do I possess fluidity?
Or am I a creature of habit,
Looking to desiccate a hobby till
It makes no sense. Silence, as
My appendages feel a shiver.
Tenacious to achieve, but a coward
Under all this merit, I dine.
The humid reality sets in.
My sobriety lost to a sea of
Gelatinous disenchantment.
More scars, as if they feed my soul.
I starve no more.
9-29-09
Wet and slick with a new
Spillage of crimson red,
Tasting metallic upon my tongue.
The blade, as elongated as my thought
Presses firmly on fresh plump
Skin, harder we go, another
Splash of blood to paint the walls.
The grim protrudes and penetrates
The daylight, elliciting storm clouds
Swollen with acidic truth that
Rains small morsels of honesty
Atop the heads of unruly clowns.
So succulent in design, my scars
Are the only beautiful thing
About me, the way they once
Spilled liquid upon the bedroom floor;
The way they healed dark
To light; the way they made
Me feel slimy with disgust.
The way I was too putrid to stop.
My desires deemed insatiable,
No rehab for my illness,
I sit with tears glistening the
Song of an unbalanced mortal,
Rotted from the inside out
And primitive in appearance.
As primeval as I am, I play
Normal very well, cohesive in
My response that I am well,
A liar among angels,
No doubt, have I become a
Distortion only a worried
Mother could dare to love.
There is always blood to bleed,
A true delicacy that I suckle
Upon at every moment, to
Witness the decay of sanity,
A blackened bliss to me.
The blook dries, looking now like a
Poison upon my person,
I grow clammy and my fingers,
Decomposed from lack of care,
Grow cold under white lights.
I grow glutinous as moments
Get pissed away, so eager to destroy
This pile of mucuous, flesh and regret.
I grow damp with sadness,
I become dank, a basement of a
Person, harboring viscious secrets and
Other useless junk people tend to dismiss.
I spew a ropy rationale and
Get tangled up in these lies
That coagulate as teh sun takes
Its place in teh blistered sky.
My body becomes a grave to be
Desecrated, a hole of litter
And darkness that dances curses
Into the air, a deadly demon
That reeks of pain and suffering.
Entwining the thought process,
I allow sleep to occur, so I
Can distort all the nightmares.
It's been months, I feel so starved.
It's as if a blade is the
Answer to feeling sated.
Hands shaking and the pungent odor
Of fear peers at me, I feel a
Sheen of disaster forming.
Oh my, how heinous this virgin girl!
Cravings grow like roots from a tree.
Do I possess fluidity?
Or am I a creature of habit,
Looking to desiccate a hobby till
It makes no sense. Silence, as
My appendages feel a shiver.
Tenacious to achieve, but a coward
Under all this merit, I dine.
The humid reality sets in.
My sobriety lost to a sea of
Gelatinous disenchantment.
More scars, as if they feed my soul.
I starve no more.
9-29-09
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
There`s no `maybe` about it
There`s no `maybe` about it
