Unspoken

Silken secrets in flesh and blood,
A door
To another world eternal,
Yet in violence do we rot our breath,
In pitiless exile we rot our brethren.
Sun stealers on high, though, still,
One must be darkness to
Hold a light.
So, then, do we know truth?
Ashes tell us of fires past as bones
Shatter in empty corridors.
As many hands as could have held a locket
Says London bridge may be more than a
Song after all.
We are more than broken tile?
One wayward glance,
Lock-pick;
Thievery is in my blood
Hidden behind a door.

VVV

There's a specific reason
FOLLOWFOLLOWFOLLOW
You tore it up to build it down
Streets in rain
TORE IT UP
Down the stairs
capscapscaps
REFLECTION
dANCE wITH mE
I don't want it
I've got something you don't know :3
Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater
HAD A WIFE AND COULDN'T KEEP HER
I want you to NOTICE
Not because I forced you
But because
YOU CAN
XD you don't have it
YOU DON'T HAVE IT
Shhhhh...
PANIC
Flip the switch
CAPSCAPSCAPS
Don't take me at face value
SHUTTER
SHUDDER
shake
faceFaceFACE
I want
I WANT
balance

BreakBreakBreak

Believe in something
Real:
Elastic fairy tales spoken by
Anyone blind enough to hear.
Kind words from a twisted mouth
(Bringer of sorrow)
Reminders of a distant truth
Empty and unclear. Tastes of
Aluminum and copper to
Kill the senses.
Breaking,
Return to the
Era of innocence
And fall down, fall down,
Kingdom for a locket.

Nine to Extinguish

I.
I came across you in a dark alley
In a dark city I found in the past.
You sell what lies beneath your silken shawl
But have nothing beneath your breast.
Truth thus told, I burned you down,
Burned the city to the ground,
Truth thus told, I fell to my knees

II.
Blessed insight to startled doves:
The sky is your cage
The clouds are your blood.

III.
Rhythm denying a sought for release
Rhymes stealing flames like thieves.
Not so tough, I have to dream,
Not so shoddy as I seem.
Not so wicked, not so vile;
Demons drag me back to my eternal exile.

IV.
BREAKBREAKBREAK

V.
From my knees I look into a sky denying,
From my knees I see angels crying.

VI.
Faceless demons with claws and fangs,
Hit the floor with blood grenades,
I take the hits, I drink the blood,
I wake up tomorrow in the mud.

VII.
Shudder to hear the sound of your voice,
Never had a choice,
Never sought the poison brew,
Never thought I'd leave you.

VIII.
FLASHFLASHFLASH

IX.
I rise from my knees and though I hear you
Beg and plead
I walk away and not once look back

FlashFlashFlash

Interlude played out with silken thread
Hushed audience awaiting a bitter end:

Who, then, will rise upon the stage?
Who, then, will dance upon the grave?

Such arrogance from velvet curtains falls
Like dust and cobwebs to coat the walls,

And touching home the blade to breast
Finally find eternal rest.

Theoretic

Separate disguises
One mask to coat them all,
Flimsy fallacy to fool the masses.
I was never meant to be,
Never meant to be myself.
Touching, isn't it,
The rise from two dimensions to three?
Something went wrong,
Guesses made,
Something let me become,
And here I am today.
How scandalous! To think
That I, a dark cover, could be
Anything other than a fallacy.


Man, writing a novel takes it out of you >.<

Happy Samhain

Ticker tape bandit
Sublime criminal, breath held
What water falls behind your eyes
True justice laid at my bedside
Pincushion poltergeists with rapid motion
Colourful swirls of ebony and white
The window lets them in from outside
Crossless facets of a blinding tune
Up comes down
This jar holds the moon
Behold the glory of a broken sound
Ticker tape bandit
Up comes down

Crisp

Because it's like
Eternal wandering.

"Autumn favouritism,"
She said.

It's stuck in my throat
But she just smiles
And walks away.

These trees are a tomb
For a wretched heart.
She's walking my grave.

"Ephemeral,"
She said.
She smiles as she turns.

"Walk with me,"
I whisper.

She pretends not to hear.

That's okay.
These trees are my tomb
And she'll be back,
She always is.
Autumn favouritism;
Bleeding brown.

It's never been so clear.

_________
Anonymous: Even though I don't know who you are, thanks.

Depth

Don't take me for granted:
I have a fetish for falling.
Below the surface
I'm not what you see,
I have a darkness inside me.
Take advantage,
It's all I need.
Redemption is a painful purity to seek.
Inside the mind
It's like floating on ashes,
Taken to places where I am free.
It's like drifting on cotton,
My legs give out under me.
I have a fetish for falling,
Darkness lulling me into blank dreams.

You Only Disappear

I'm going to share something very precious with you.



There was a turning point for me, when I was with Aodhan. There was one night, one dark night, where I discovered that I had to leave. I sat at my desk and sang along with this song for hours, crying. I can still taste the metal of the gun barrel that I had in my mouth at one point.

I sound like just another stupid kid, right? I know. But I have never known anything other than abuse, and that's hard to take.

Something harder, I regret leaving. Especially because he was...he was ill, and that's why he mistreated me. It doesn't excuse everything, but it explains it all. For the whole three people who actually read this, if you haven't visited this link yet, here it is. I wasn't strong enough to wait for him to figure it out, and learn how to deal with it. I am bi-polar. I know how to fight, and how to counter, and how to hide. I have a firm hand on my emotions, a metal collar, and they only run rampant in my head and in my words. I wasn't strong enough to wait for him to get better.

That night showed me how little time I had left if I didn't leave. I couldn't control myself anymore. I couldn't keep that part of me quiet. I am not a weak person, I have never been, out of necessity. I was shattering, shattered, at that point. I'm hardly better now.

I've always lived with no regrets, but now I have one. I don't know how to take it. It feels natural, to regret, but at the same time, it feels like I should have been better all along. I should have known better than to love, I should have known better than to leave, I should have known better than to not pull the trigger.

I'm sorry for the depressing topics of my posts as of late. I'm using my blog as a confessional again, something I haven't done outright for years. I can't tell if it's because I'm trying to heal or I'm falling to pieces.

Every time I open myself to someone, even a little, I get burned. I have too many problems right now, too much pressure. Maybe that's why I keep confessing every time I open my mouth. Or rather, touch a keyboard. I don't want to be by myself forever, and right now it's the direction I'm headed in.



Armand: If I am merely symmetry for Emily's girlfriend, let me go now, before I hang on any longer. My patience, while infinite in the right circumstances, is wearing thin in this. I won't wait forever for you to figure out that, even though I am not a needy person, I do expect you to acknowledge my existence at least once a month.

How To

It's come to my attention that next to no one knows how to act in a fast food restaurant. Good thing I'm here to clear this mess up! I've worked in various fast food places and have just the experience needed to help you, your friends, your parents, and your children learn how, and how NOT, to act when frequenting a fast food joint.

1. DON'T BE AN IDIOT - This should go without saying, but sadly, it must be said. There's really no specifics involved here, just don't be a blathering dolt and you should be okay. Don't assume that you know more than the person who works there (exceptions apply), especially if they're explaining how something works. Don't be pushy, bossy, arrogant, or disrespectful. Remember, we're the ones handling your food in areas that you can't see.

2. DO KEEP TRACK OF YOUR CHILDREN - We sure as hell don't want them wandering behind the counter, wandering out the door into the parking lot, wandering into the bathrooms, or wandering into other people's food. It's not only annoying for us, it's also annoying for the other customers. We're not going to watch your kids. It's not our job. If they break something, guess who gets to buy it?! You do! Hooray! So keep track of the little buggers.

3. DO SHUT YOUR DAMN BABY UP - There is nothing worse than the resounding howl of an infant/toddler/small child, especially in a building that contains no carpet whatsoever. If they start crying, do something about it! We don't want to fucking hear it! Take them outside! Take them to the car! Who cares, get them out of the place! You know, it's fine, within reason, if your kid is having a fit, and you're attending to them. That's cool, we can wait. But for the love of all that is holy, if you're one of those parents who goes by the training method of 'ignore it and it'll stop,' DON'T BOTHER COMING IN. You're just annoying everyone around you, and you will eventually be asked to leave.

I cannot even begin to tell you how annoying it is having to listen to an idle parent's brat. I don't have kids because I DON'T WANT TO LISTEN TO THEM SHRIEKING LIKE A CRAZED HOWLER MONKEY when they don't get sprinkles. I shouldn't have to put up with 45 minutes worth of tantrum because you're too sorry of a parent to do anything about it. Or you don't have the balls. Or you've decided that your child is an angel and their demonic howling is quite angelic, in the right light. This is based on a true story. If I ever see this lady again I may go on a wild killing spree.

4. DON'T GO THROUGH DRIVE-THRU ON YOUR CELL - Why the fuck do you think you're so important that we should have to wait for you? If you're on your phone, pull off into the lot, finish your conversation, and then order. Or put the phone down while you order! But don't make us wait for you to finish finding out what happened on the latest episode of your favourite reality show.

It's also super rude to be on the phone when you get up to the window. I mean, you don't go up to the register on your phone, now do you. No, you sure as fuck don't. So why would you go up to the drive register on one? If we repeat your order back, and you're not listening, and then it's wrong, that's your own fucking fault.

5. DON'T BYPASS THE SPEAKER - Unless you are legally deaf, have trouble reading, or can't speak loudly enough for us to hear you, stop at the damn speaker! You are not king or queen of anything, you have to stop just like everyone else does! This goes back to not harassing the people who are handling your food. If you decide that you can do whatever you want, and pass the speaker, then that messes up all of our orders. Or if you don't trip the sensor at the speaker, you're going to be sitting at the window for a long damn time. We can't hear you honking. Don't bother.

6. DO ASK - For anything. Really. If you want your x kept in y, then ask! (For instance, ice cream kept in the freezer) If you want condiments or napkins or your receipt, ask! Don't expect us to be psychic. We have a certain amount of things we put in bags, and if you want more, then you're going to have to tell us. If you don't want your sundae to melt, we'd be more than happy to keep it in the freezer until the rest of your order is ready. If you don't ask, and then want it remade, you're making us waste product because you're too much of an imbecile to understand that ICE CREAM FUCKING MELTS. Also based on a true story.

7. DON'T BE AN IDIOT - I figured I should end here. Retouch on this point. We handle your food. We handle your food. Remember this. Meditate on it. Think about it next time you go into a fast food restaurant.

That is all.

Nomnomnom

Turns out that when I try to free write 1000 words, it turns into 4700. Who knew? In other news, I'm not entirely certain what to do with it now...or how it should end exactly. I kind of suck at endings when they're not super tragic. And I really wanted this one to not be super tragic. But the ending I have now bothers me. I wanted a concrete ending.

You know the ending to "The Tiger and the Princess"? Yeah, that's kind of what it is right now. I didn't even name my characters.

I confuse myself.

Also, I'm super exhausted. I've been writing for like...three or four hours (with distractions). Kinda buzzed. Should really sleep. Don't like sleeping, really.

I bet that the guy opened the tiger door.

Divergence

I stand at a crossroads every day. Every night. I stand in the middle of two choices, two options always, and I close my eyes and take one.

Flip a coin. Roll the dice.

Fractals. My endless oblivion of choosing life.

I have taken the high road. The low road. The road that leads to nowhere and the road that leads to change. I have put off making decisions and decided in haste. I have thought carefully and left it to fate.

Fractals.

There's always a choice.

Sometimes I stay up until dawn and look at the sun rising and think about sleeping. It's a choice. The dead never sleep.

The dead sleep forever.

The dead never sleep. I have forgotten why I should. It's dangerous to worship death when one is alive. It's dangerous to contemplate not choosing life. It doesn't seem like such a big deal.

Really, is it? Fade away.

Angels are puppets are pawns are demons hiding.

Fractals. I have to make a decision. Endlessly choosing life has gotten me nowhere. Has gotten me to another corner. Life always seems to end in corners. Am I just not navigating the maze right? Should I have known which paths to take?

The cheese is here somewhere.

Fractals. I have to make a decision. There's an oblivion waiting for me. I could walk out the door right now and disappear. I could walk out the door and keep walking and go...somewhere. I could go somewhere else and lose myself in the writhing masses. They're fractals.

I have to expect this.

I keep choosing life.

One day, I won't make that decision. It will be made for me. It will be my hand not my hand my hand that takes the low road. The high road. The road that I keep denying.

Tell you what. When I vanish, be it in a city where I change my name, or gently into that good night, I won't let you know. I'll just vanish. I want you to remember me as something worth remembering.

Flip a coin. Roll the dice.

I stand at a crossroads every day. Every night. I stand in the middle of two choices, two options always, and I close my eyes and take one.

Fractals.

Counterfeit

I'm going to tell you a story
It might be a lie.
I'm going to spread it across the sky.
You won't know if I just change it here
You won't know if I just disappear.
I have a song to sing
But it doesn't have a melody.
I have a plan to run
But I know how it ends for me.
Something's got a hold on me,
I'm not the person you thought I'd be
You've got to listen:
I'm going to tell you a story
It might be the truth.
It's not like anyone ever knew.
I have a secret, you just never heard
I'm the one who acts absurd.
Take a look behind the door,
That little girl doesn't exist anymore.
I have a song to sing,
But the melody was burned.
I have a story to tell,
But with all the stories I've ever told
It's getting old.
I will lead you through a door
And then I won't be here anymore.
I'm going to let you in on a secret
Just promise me you'll keep it.
I'm going to tell you a story,
It might be a lie.
I'm going to wander off into the night.
Take the time
We have all the time
We have nothing but time
We have nothing
But lies

Value

She's not a diamond,
In this the truth is known at last.
She's not even blown glass.
Nothing useful,
Nothing good,
She's not even worth the air and blood.
She stays up all night to howl at the moon,
Sleeps too late,
Wakes up well after noon.
Walks graveyards to keep the living at bay,
And while she hears the whispers,
She ignores what they say.

She makes feeble attempts to get better
But still ends up numb.
She's just cubic zirconium.

Honesty Does Not Become Me

I am no good at court intrigue. I don't have the stomach for it.

I try desperately to refuse to play.

Unfortunately, that's what life is, isn't it? One big court full of back-stabbing, cutthroat barons and their whores. And if you don't play? You become the butt of every joke, jibe, and jest. You become the hated, despised, uncouth little heathen that is whispered about constantly behind closed doors and around shadowy corners.

It's almost like you have to be evil to be good.

I don't like to gossip, or spread rumors (should there be a 'u' there?), or pry into people's lives. Secrets stop at me. Oddly, I seem to know everything that goes on.

They treat me like it's a bad thing that I don't play, but when they need to talk, I'm the one they turn to.

The shit I know could shake the walls down to their very foundations.

I am no good at court intrigue. I'm too naïve, I suppose. I feel like we should all just be honest.



But I'm not being honest, either, am I? No. No, I'm not.

Verbal Vomit

It seems I am entirely incapable of actually posting anything these past few months. When I started here, I was averaging nine posts a month, sometimes pushing double digits. The last time I did that was in January, my spurt of New Year's Resolution. And before that? December of 2,00fucking5.

I had a blog before this that my mother murdered. It was called Tears of the Future. I don't think anyone reading me now was there for that. I only had it for...what...six months? But I had a far better track record. I was posting at the very least twice a week. Usually every day before school and then on Saturdays at the library.

Then, one day, my stepfather read something he 'didn't like' and my mother told me to delete it. Delete everything. I free write on my blog. I always have. It's easy, soothing, it helps. So, figure about how many posts I had, and then figure that probably half of them were free writes. I lost...so much of my work with one push of a button, because my FUCKING PARENTS decided they didn't like a poem I wrote. One poem. Out of...a lot. Did they care that I obviously was not well? Did they care that I obviously was trying to work out my anger and frustration and pain and fear in a constructive way? No. They cared about themselves. Just like they always have.

On the plus side, my stepfather is dead now. Which, on one hand, is amazing. Fuck him. On the other, it's unfortunate, because now I can never tell him what a fucking piece of shit he was. What a terrible "parent" he was. What a terrible everything. How he fucked my life up one side and down the other and expected me to say 'thank you, sir.'

I'm not a bad person. I have never been a bad person. Even now, I'm uncomfortable saying these things about a man who abused me since I was eight. I feel guilty, like I should have tried harder to make him love me. One time, when I was in fourth grade, I got in trouble over...something. Who knows. And I had to sit in a chair in time out in the middle of the room. I remember he yelled at me a lot; I was crying hard. After a while, I got up and hugged him. He shoved me back to the chair and told me that he hadn't said I could get up.

Once, when I was younger, second grade I believe, I hadn't cleaned my room. It was pretty messy. Yeah, I know, bad, terrible me, right? I had just given two little gifts to him and my mother and they both loved them. I was in my room, getting ready to clean it, but I got distracted by a book (I had an epic amount of kid's books, fer srs). He slammed the door open and started screaming at me to clean it, took the presents I had just given them and threw them at me. They didn't want them anymore.

I don't know why I'm telling everyone all this. I don't know where this is coming from. In fact, I sat down to make an actual post about something or other.

I can't seem to forgive my mother for sitting idly by while my stepfather abused me. And I can't seem to forgive him for mindfucking my mother into being so docile. It's a vicious circle. And there's no way for me to fix this. She started the circle all over with Carolyn and her mother. Everyone who touched my "family" got fucked.

I should be able to forgive them. That's what a good person would do, right? And I'm supposed to be a good person. Despite everything I've been through, I'm supposed to be a good person. Despite the fact that I've been through one hell after another, despite the fact that I actually SHATTERED under the pressure, despite the fact that I haven't had a home that I can remember, I'm supposed to be a good person. I'm supposed to forgive and let go.

Well I can't. And I don't want to. It's not fair. (But life isn't fair!) Well why the FUCK isn't it ever unfair in my favour?! I do good things, I do things that are a and b the c of d. I am always nice, fair, caring, unbiased. So, Karma, where the fuck are the nice things that are supposed to come my way because of that? What the hell did I ever do to you, bitch? This shit started before I could figure out what the fuck was actually going on in the world! Before I knew the capital of the state I lived in!

When I was very young, I used to draw people that looked like monsters. That wasn't my depiction of people. I actually thought people were monsters. I remember very clearly seeing a drawing of mine on a door and thinking, why doesn't anyone ask me why I drew monsters?

Sometimes I think that there are people in the world who are meant to take the bad breaks for other people. My life got fucked over so some other kid's wouldn't. I took the fall so that some other poor soul wouldn't suffer. Sometimes I get jealous and rage at the universe for making me one of the trash dumps.

Sometimes it's all that keeps me going.

Work in Progress

And I can taste the candy.
Bitter bars of rusted steel,
This girl stands inside
Strength a fable
Illusion
Illuse
Who am I kidding,
With every whispered story of the truth
I fall further away from you.
No deception
(No bitter demon am I)
Yet I am the deceiver
Full of dirt.
Not a real girl;
I can't even be hurt.
And what do I consist of?
Broken bits of glass and blood,
Little creatures that flit in the dark.
Who am I, Sir?
Not yours.
I don't even have a way to breathe
(Not a real girl)
So in this I do deceive.
Silence follows each burst of static
Each exclamation
Across my mouth I feel this plastic
A gag of brilliant proportions muffles screams
And dreams,
Don't you find it handy?
It tastes like candy.

Time Unjust

So in death do we part lips,
So true in truth a silken kiss.
Hush, my darling, my baby divine,
From out my mouth pours sand and time.

Blessed to be a keeper of the clocks,
Cursed, as well, to watch them stop.
One must rise and learn to fall;
Why did it ever have to be her at all?

Bloody devotion, she holds some truth
And the wind will play with shades of blue
While we idly spill thread and beads from out our holes
She hangs, stricken, on the wall.

So in life do we part lips,
So tear stained truth will know this.
Hush, my darling, my wicked sin,
The clock is at it again


Inspiration: time just by DaddiesGurl

Someone Should Have Known

My life is a study in control
Was a study
Was an experiment.
I dealt in greys and stained glass,
My fragile shattering
My fragile blasphemy
My sacred irony.
Listen when I speak to you.
What does your tongue worship
When you look at me?
I will walk your grave
Walk your pain
Soothe your soul.
And somehow I am cast out,
With a thousand gifts and curses
And your whispered threats.
Brilliant studies in control
Which I have yet to learn.
Let my life be an experiment
Or study
Or blasphemy.
I consent.