The star that remained brokenThis candle that's lit every night it's hot wax
cannot rival the temperature of my blood. I cannot
stand to lay here without the soft spoken words
from a beloved friend.
My tears are the only ones to caress my cheek,
they know my sorrow by looking out the windows.
I'm here every night looking at the moon and the
stars and suffer to know they will always have each other.
Is it so much to have a meaningful kiss? A kiss
of passion that will make my heart beat once
again, that would release this cold air from within.
screams of solitudeToday the coldest stars seep inside me, there dull
edges cut off the circulation of my serotonin.
My tears of blood that starve for warmth will
never get a sympathetic kiss from the guardian
of my mortality.
Everything i create turns to rust, and every time
i try to conceive the most valued silver i fail
and this stains me permanently with self pity.
I just hope in this next life I wont be a forgotten
face that freezes every time when comparing myself
to those that have been blessed in their lives.
dead or alive?Oh how i long to be granted a sympathetic kiss
from an angel with the wings of perfection.
This silent pain rots inside me like a plagued
I look at these pills that have been turned
into ashes by the remorseless sun. So what
am i to do when the noose gets tighter as I hang
in the desolate wishing well.
My thoughts become thorns seeping deeper until
I bleed the temperature of zero. I wish i could
just let the blood of mine escape into a whirlwind
that leads to an eternal peace, for this would heal
my heart permanently.
If i were to let my heart thaw out for a few years
I don't think this would melt the frost that has
been installed in me. Every time i sob my tears turn
to icicles and I scream as they seep back inside my skin.
Death wish ungrantedThe burning flakes from my lips can't
stand to look in my mirror made of
sour milk webs. I am the silver river
that has been infected with rust and
I cannot help but feel unattractive.
The guardian of my soul should have never
created me out of a children's carousel
that had been permanently stained with
a sludge like substance. My tongue and
lips burn from everyone I've ever kissed
without pure intentions.
My face has lost it's warmth and vitality from
all of the bitter tears that always seem to find it's
way back into my psyche. My emotions have
been through far too many medical procedures.
So now i still find myself in the lobby of
my own hell with no comfort or guidance with
the burden of my melted heart leaking through
the slits in my throat.
The anatomy of a thorned heartLust and grief consumes my entire being as
I awake, thy kiss from an angel would lead
my psyche to the right place.
My heart is infected with blackness releasing ashes
that will taste bitter and profound to the world.
If you taste my ashes and close your eyes you
will see all of my memories of loneliness.
I have grown ravenous for affection as I've dwelled for
decades in this brooding cave. I await for thee to
embrace my heart that drowns in desolation and
Thy key to comfort seems oh so surreal. Who
will be the one to take my hand and kiss my scars?
Heartache and self inflictionThese mere white walls are as hollow as we, with
deep scratches that will never erase like our scars.
Carbon copy halls are as wide as our wounds of self infliction.
Were forced to form in a single file as our heads lay
low, for it was all of our suicides that had been
unfulfilled. I pass by these screaming children longing
for home, they are strapped to a table with the stare
from preternatural clones.
I whisper to myself death old friend where are you now to take
me away from this darkest hour. We are like the palest of corpses
trapped in the locked gates of a cemetary. I loath sharing
a room with these half dead teenagers that remind me of myself.
I'm trapped here on the the special day of love. Everyone
is carving into there skin a message, as well as cutting the
shape of a heart from there dripping flesh for a beloved that
has put a hex on them.
Condemned by the godsAs i walk the city streets of disapproval my disgraceful
footsteps seem to always dishearten the gods senses.
I cannot blame the scorn from the celestial sky for
I have the imperfect past and present that has harmed
it with blight.
It has now become too unbearable to know the
only things awaiting for me are the deep scratches
I've engraved on my wall, and the tears I've wasted
away on my death shroud for sheets.
My gaunt lifeless wrists are covered with my own crimson
blood that has rotted and formed into the texture of regret
and depression.I have now come to the realization that i am
not worth the time for the beautiful ones and am too unworthy
to inhale the warm essence of a comforting reality.