I’m searching for a way
To express these persistent screams
Living beneath these eyes
Crafting nightmares out of dreams
I’m searching for a way
To surpass these sadden seas
But I hold on to my Kraken
Swallowing the beast within me
Is there no place?
To let insecurities come to pass
To burn amongst the sky
To take wings in Earthly drafts
Is there no place?
To drown the insistent thoughts
To wither them to the bone
To expose them till they rot
I forget there is no place
To home creatures of my kind
The unforgiving weathered world
Leaving me behind
I forget there is no place
To embrace who I desire
My creature clawing outward
Set these streets on fire
at some point you stepped outside yourself
for a smoke or a breath of fresh air
and when you tried to get back in touch with your body
you found that calling it home was not the same as feeling welcomed there
so, you vandalized the structure and punched holes in the walls
for a motive to continue self-destruction
and when you were smothered in debris missing your bed
you found that you couldn't even get sleep in a place of such head corruption
too far gone to decide to think happy thoughts
for fooling yourself can barely even compose a foundation
and when you asked for help no one could help you in a way that didn't enrage you
you found that your motivation was to deter and hinder pro-creation
somewhere you got tangled in the web of someone much like you
for they were afflicted with the same burden in their heart
and when you told them that you loved them
you found that to have that reciprocated you must love yourself as a start
confused and violated and sick of yourself
for you couldn't extract emotion from anything
and if you did it was unpleasant or placed on a damned old shelf
you found that songs you knew by heart you could no longer sing
at some point you stepped outside yourself
for a smoke and a breath of fresh air
and when you tried to get back in touch with your body
you found a corpse with cobwebs in its stare
Stir crazy with an anchor to condemn
me to the depths of whatever, wherein
I might have been left to fester if not
for my hatred of the smell of the rot.
I'll wield my shackles like two morning stars;
careless of the blood I spray while swinging,
ringing the changes by cast iron flail
and lusting for guts to rend with my nails.
Sun-baked oil slick, foisted on two legs;
tell me this is commonplace for you.
Unfit to wander, yet wandering through
blooming meadows bereft of their shade --
aiding the process of putrefaction
by virtue of your crude, creeping splay.
And when you're stalled and coagulated;
making puddles with deceptive depths,
you'll be stepped on by the amiable
and oblivious tulips in turn.
You could cling by your teeth to their laces;
force them to stumble - plant in your bed,
but there's little for which to be taken
from a seed that shuns daylight, instead
of growing where it knew it would prosper.
He wasn't made to feel feeble.
Cleaved at the knee - not at the time.
Perfectly enabled and quick,
his feet would still catch under stones;
like the idiot he'd once been,
before his skull was welded shut
and his thoughts were kept and anchored.
Bubbles on the seal went seeping:
mercurial globes, dripping pitch
into every thinking recess.
He abated, hesitated,
then let it spread, flourish, and fell;
cracking the ground upon impact
where the chrome of his dome met dirt.
He watched skies from prone positions.
His diction slowed, his tongue had froze
and his eyes acquired plating.
Before their pinhole sockets closed,
he saw a figure in the blue,
molding clouds to match its likeness.
Blindness came in sheets of silver.
Whatever good you've cradled,
I can't be bothered to find.
You've been blind to mine at times.
Such ends we have enabled
speak dire of your confines:
internal irons that bind.
As the rat I am labeled;
I am nothing, and resign:
a scourge that burns in daylight.
From gutters I am fabled
to return one day to find
what ruin is left behind,
in the wake of your "insights".
V1:
Maybe it's best;
choking on teeth.
Woke yesterday
to pearls in the sink.
No cusp to chew,
or wells made for ink;
just bleeding gums -
grin to distinct
a man from his mettle,
collected for weeks
to melt into color
no brighter than bleak.
My sight had been framed,
and blurs never peak,
but the wash was a comfort
that felt right to seek.
I dipped into bowls;
fingers felt weak,
but brought to my eyes:
the shade let me breathe.
The pretty suppressed,
the ugly perceived,
and this in between
held nothing for me.
Chorus (1/2):
These painted locks;
switches made white,
shut out the light:
ink over eye.
Ugly beheld,
ugly defied;
de-mystify:
ink over eye.
V2:
Maybe it's not;
I couldn't relate.
I know my own void -
what it might take;
the heat of my breath -
how it might taste,
and who it offends
when I let it escape.
My spark in the blue,
beaten by shade;
fading, replaced
by dull masquerade.
I look through the paint,
its gloss with its straits
and see it a waste,
just dotting my face.
Blotting in hew
and set like a stain;
newborn and blind,
frowning the same.
Drowning in flames,
smoke-hardened glaze,
enveloped for days
in dark that I've made.
Chorus:
These painted locks;
switches made white,
shut out the light:
ink over eye.
Ugly beheld,
ugly defied;
de-mystify:
ink over eye.
These severed ties;
robbed of my sight.
Wronging of right:
ink over eye.
Self overwhelmed,
self to describe;
seek to deny
ink over eye.
He'd dreamt of flaying off his bubbling surface-self,
so that the hardened truth beneath it would show bright.
But given time and enough insight - despite his thick hide,
he saw to his center, through all of the layered meat, and
was disappointed to find the same sort of ugliness
rearing to meet him, gaze against gaze:
a consciousness peering into a vaccum.
the dream in my head is dark and scary.
i'm afraid to sleep.
the fear pauses my heart beats.
if your dreams are messages from your sub-conscious,
then i need help fast!
my exhaustion is tearing me down quickly.
even opening my eyes is making me weary.
i don't want to dive into my thoughts,
in case i drown in their darkness.
blood, red lights flicker and dim, exposed brick walls,
like a set of a B horror film.
i'm confused, dazed, and lost.
i feel disconnected from myself,
like i'm on autopilot.
i watch myself stabbing something over and over again.
the expression on my face is one of glee.
i watch me enjoy the blood splattering onto every surface.
what the hell bleeds this much?
i awake panicked and dripping in sweat.
how could i enjoy such a murderous rage?
i do giggle when i hold a large knife,
but i thought that was because i saw my reflection in the blade.
i am concerned there's another reason,
some deep seated madness waiting to escape.
another night spent pacing instead of resting.
is it a nightmare taunting me?
do i dare force myself to see what i am stabbing?
i feel fragile, like i'm on the edge of some great discovery or doom.
can there be truth here that will heal me?
i decide to medicate.
i take the pills praying for a dreamless deep sleep.
i'm back again!
same place, now i smell something rotting.
i feel the heat of something burning.
i'm not stabbing anymore.
i'm eating, an arm, ew!
i look up at me and extend myself an offer,
"want some?"
i feel myself recoil and shake my head no,
i continue to tell myself,
"it's fatty, but that's why it taste so good well done."
i look over a the corner, and there i am,
stabbed dead, minus an arm,
what the fuck have i done?
i wake up shaking and screaming.
i'm horrified.
i killed myself and i'm eating myself?
what does that mean???
i'm afraid to guess.
am i going to destroy myself?
another night spent pacing instead of racing.
i fear the night now!