This is kinda like me playing catch up with myself, posting recent pieces I'd not got round to putting here for whatever reason. Possibly my periods getting in the way or being too busy frightening the elderly with thatch theatre...
An Obscene Circle Of Hatred
I live alone with my family in quiet, safe part of town. We are no different then our neighbours, or any other family in town for that matter. We carry on through the same tragedy's as everyone else. It saddens me to say that I haven't learnt to cope with pain. More specifically, the pain of life. This is such a big world with empty words, trivial problems and guilt for feeling so alone. I love my parents, but they are lost to this. They think they understand. They talk and talk and talk like I've skinned my knees. Their child has fallen over and needs to be piked up. How shallow. All they want is their release, their pain removed. But I don't hate them. I love each and every person in my family, even when they pretend to have it all figured out.
I want to be loved too much. Of course that sounds strange yet it's the truth. I'm very much isolated from the ideals we perceive a everyday facts. I can't help myself. Yeah sure, I can bite on this tongue of mine as it trembles more words out in earnest desperation. But where will that drag me down to? All that seems to stick in my throat and mind is 'Pain is life'. My pain rises to the surface when I cut. My smile widens when I dig deeper through my soft body to touch what I know they just can't see. What they ignore.
There are so many reasons to carry on self-harming, but the most unbearable one is me. I'm the quiet, docile creature being made room for. Pampered like some malnourished pet. I'm watching the living understate me until I disappear. So many times on a daily basis I'm made aware of my complete lack of importance, purposely it seems. And they're right. I DO lack importance. Funny, to be lacking in a world of fake happiness.
I want to draw a circle. Inside this circle I will lace myself, and watch diligently in third person the hatred manifest upon my thighs, my arms, my stomach, my chest, my back. Anywhere I can feasibly hide it from a lifetime of piercing glares. With common household items sharpened to remember and meek smiles to forget, I'll dwindle inside this obscene circle until my body falls apart to a neatly slashed rubble. Then maybe I could begin to understand how someone so small fits in to a mausoleum so consuming.
[this is a character study of Lee from the film Secretary, not my own thoughts/feelings. Yes I do relate to some of it lol but I like that film a hell of a lot and felt she deserved a piece about her. Watch it, that film is fuckin' sexy too]
Buck The Harlem Smoke
Let him breathe, give him space,
Ignore the gaping shallow wounds
Like a septic trench across his face,
Bare fists and jaws connect,
He suffered severe hemorrhaging
With collapsed lungs and
Re-digested stomach acid indirect,
I consider the necessity to dissect,
A fanatical desire for reanimation,
In this homicidal gaze nothing
Nobody is safe,
Carefully and with sadistic conviction
I make good my excuses,
Removal met with fearful approval,
Fact becomes a horrid work of fiction,
Dragged by his ankles through agricultural
Phases in this country uncaring,
Better judgement asks where I faltered,
How far have I fallen my friend?
The end becomes the beginning of
An endless blood lust,
Wrists pumped with composition compounds,
Restraints hold us back from what
We never believed could materialize,
I just want to lose myself in other peoples death,
There is immense pain in staying alive,
Severed flesh crawling back to claim
Rewards, disfigured inhuman forms of
My hands still born,
Dearest friend, save me this grace
Before my redemption brings scorn,
Find my confession buried in
Rotten flesh under the surgical lines I've drawn
Hubris And Its Major Design Faults
Let me paint you a picture,
A portrait of myself and humanity,
See the colours smudge,
Note the lines jarred jagged,
Inconsistent,
Revelation in inspiration,
Let me paint you a picture with words,
Let me spell out this landscape,
Maybe you've seen it before,
You're running head-down through life,
Barged past every friendly warning
Wit that stupid grin,
You're on a roll,
Smug as fuck,
The clingers-on bow,
The gods ignored,
The rules broken,
How sure you are in what you're not,
Only human,
Now we define the downfall,
That one you should've seen coming,
Ignoring the idea you could be wrong,
Friends and foes won't step aside,
Force fed your own belated pride,
Merciful lord of malice intent,
Colours run and bleed,
How sure you were,
You mistook hands to shake
For fingers to break,
And there's the image complete,
Hubris mis-designed so perfectly
...Followed By Reflections
That fear,
That pain of being reminded of our humanity,
It drags you away from those you love to the nothings you hate.
It understands how best to hurt you.
To pull your walls down,
To unveil your insecurities
And remind you of your complete helplessness to your desire to self-destruct.
We fail.
Or is it just me?
Long Hard Think
Opps, I slipped and fell in
A puddle of ball-bag blood,
Shattered my pelvis spitting it out,
Call a penis paramedic
Sunday, 4 January 2009
Friday, 2 January 2009
No. 10
Elyo Suez (Part 1)
I dreamt that she wasn't moving. She was laid perfectly still. Frozen. Without closer inspection you'd swear hands-down she'd passed away, so absolute her stillness. For a second I almost made that mistake myself. But against all odds in the world of reality she lived; in a state akin to the corpse she should be. All round us the black horror of winters midnight swept snow through the trees and despite the thick clouds swelled above us the moon still shone through with an eerie radiance. The wood was silent. Even the wind made no mention of its presence. It occurred to me upon noticing the winds silence that I'd heard no sound at all since I could recall my being here. All I remembered in that infinite dark was her laying there. She looked like she'd seen it all come crashing down around her. She wore an expression of quiet rest and well hidden loneliness, which wasn't immediately obvious until those eyes opened. Those eyes. They told the world of wasted compassion and broken bonds. They called out to make her hearts wounds known to all, and in the ignorance of those around her it seemed no one heard them clear enough. More then anything she seemed peaceful just laid there amongst the cold and dirt. Which was incredible when you consider the rags of clothing she wore like she'd been in a fight with some wild animal.
I began to wonder what reasons she could have to be here. She was a work of wonder, that much I was sure of. But this environment I'd grown used to was too horrendous for her current dress, and if she should continue musing in this state she'd surely die. I made my way towards her through the snow making careful my steps so as not to disturb her and knelt down for closer inspection. Not once did she make a move apart from her chest rising and falling from breath.
It wasn't until being next to her that I realised how beautiful she was. And for that moment however long it was I too remained perfectly still in awe. Although this was the first time I'd laid eyes on her she was oddly familiar; a person of immediate bond in a world of severed ties. Being as quiet as possible I took my overcoat and laid it gently over her trying not to break her concentration.
But with the touch of my coats material those comatose eyes glared straight in to mine. Her stare frightened me more then the countless nightmares my mind has given me. In those darkened eyes you could see the injuries causing the pain she suffered. Yet as horrific as it must have looked to most any other person I saw her earnest warmth and its refusal to drown in that infinite unknowing. It was that warmth through the black that drew my heart in to her abyss. And I fell for her.
It appeared she'd not been expecting anyone to stumble upon her the way she clung to my coat, wrapping as much of her body in it as possible. After a few seconds adjusting herself until comfy she smiled in genuine politeness at the gesture. I must admit I was surprised by this, as over the years I'd come to expect very little in the way of kindness returned. For a time we continued gazing at each other. A number of new questions began occurring and entangling themselves in my mind, like why was she here, how did she come to be here and how I'd not encountered her before. These and many others were pushed away eventually by one question I wish now my heart had never longed to ask... 'Can I stay next to you?'
However she was the only one who spoke within my dream and it was this memory that aroused me from my slumber. In a voice soft and well-spoken but with obvious effect from the cold she simply said 'Thank you'.
Thank you. At the time I remember thinking it should be me thanking her. She was warmth to my heart. Seems funny now considering how, like her easy smile, my heart broke.
I dreamt that she wasn't moving. She was laid perfectly still. Frozen. Without closer inspection you'd swear hands-down she'd passed away, so absolute her stillness. For a second I almost made that mistake myself. But against all odds in the world of reality she lived; in a state akin to the corpse she should be. All round us the black horror of winters midnight swept snow through the trees and despite the thick clouds swelled above us the moon still shone through with an eerie radiance. The wood was silent. Even the wind made no mention of its presence. It occurred to me upon noticing the winds silence that I'd heard no sound at all since I could recall my being here. All I remembered in that infinite dark was her laying there. She looked like she'd seen it all come crashing down around her. She wore an expression of quiet rest and well hidden loneliness, which wasn't immediately obvious until those eyes opened. Those eyes. They told the world of wasted compassion and broken bonds. They called out to make her hearts wounds known to all, and in the ignorance of those around her it seemed no one heard them clear enough. More then anything she seemed peaceful just laid there amongst the cold and dirt. Which was incredible when you consider the rags of clothing she wore like she'd been in a fight with some wild animal.
I began to wonder what reasons she could have to be here. She was a work of wonder, that much I was sure of. But this environment I'd grown used to was too horrendous for her current dress, and if she should continue musing in this state she'd surely die. I made my way towards her through the snow making careful my steps so as not to disturb her and knelt down for closer inspection. Not once did she make a move apart from her chest rising and falling from breath.
It wasn't until being next to her that I realised how beautiful she was. And for that moment however long it was I too remained perfectly still in awe. Although this was the first time I'd laid eyes on her she was oddly familiar; a person of immediate bond in a world of severed ties. Being as quiet as possible I took my overcoat and laid it gently over her trying not to break her concentration.
But with the touch of my coats material those comatose eyes glared straight in to mine. Her stare frightened me more then the countless nightmares my mind has given me. In those darkened eyes you could see the injuries causing the pain she suffered. Yet as horrific as it must have looked to most any other person I saw her earnest warmth and its refusal to drown in that infinite unknowing. It was that warmth through the black that drew my heart in to her abyss. And I fell for her.
It appeared she'd not been expecting anyone to stumble upon her the way she clung to my coat, wrapping as much of her body in it as possible. After a few seconds adjusting herself until comfy she smiled in genuine politeness at the gesture. I must admit I was surprised by this, as over the years I'd come to expect very little in the way of kindness returned. For a time we continued gazing at each other. A number of new questions began occurring and entangling themselves in my mind, like why was she here, how did she come to be here and how I'd not encountered her before. These and many others were pushed away eventually by one question I wish now my heart had never longed to ask... 'Can I stay next to you?'
However she was the only one who spoke within my dream and it was this memory that aroused me from my slumber. In a voice soft and well-spoken but with obvious effect from the cold she simply said 'Thank you'.
Thank you. At the time I remember thinking it should be me thanking her. She was warmth to my heart. Seems funny now considering how, like her easy smile, my heart broke.
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