what a waste of Antabuse

when i dive back down and catch a grip i can keep, it'll render me able to hold my inhibitions between shut lips. bipolar piano keys exemplify his and hers quips, but mine will be quiet, leaving silent weight on your shoulder blades. i broke these discs of threadbare bones like steps i fell down, encased in a shattered spine. with all the regrets and wishes and hopes i hold so dear, dead pounds, making make-believe meaning out of voids.

the coarse carpet floor, binds my feet to a location I'd much rather leave. but these woven woolen blankets speak of ocean sea-salt availabilities, and the cavity between myself and them are leagues wide and in length. a sweeter view flourishes of love, i swear it does. i swear the weather makes sanity attainable for longer periods and more encompassed durations. and i swear i wont ever swear again, not promises i can't keep and words of trust i can't lend as more than breath and noise.

18 days, more than 18 days ago, and by this point, I've honestly just lost count. and able this and feasible that, were words i spoke as vows, but the words just seemed to laugh back. but they tattoo my memory and sting of alcohol and arsenic, the best methodology of how-to-forget. sparked matches and drives to airlines, tickets never bought, gasoline far from pumped, letters never sent, and promises never kept...

John Walker never intended such Brash Correlations.

oh Sweetheart, Take my Love. Choke on Animated Exhales. Spin me 'round on Uncushioned computer chairs and Fairytales. Hidden behind car seats, railroad tracks, and Veils. Sexy Sonnets Rehearsed softly off the Trail of your Tongue, Slowly spoken like Snails.

your cologne Matches the matches in your pocket Dying to Strike a Stinging in my eye. Lingering of sulfur and phosphorous Escaping steadfast for the night sky. a Stubborn Stare between the Concrete beneath our feet, and those Repeating Lyrics in my Mind. you've yet to Conceive something Scathed with that smell of Suicide, and More Willing to Assume it's a Silly Coincidence we've both shared at some point in our Lives.



Question this. Question her. Question him. Question something that isn't even a Tangible Kiss.

Kiss it and Ask,



"What's this?"

You're Invited...

the Charade is Calling Lovers to Come out tonight. Grab their Hips, and Kiss their hands. Falsify their Secret Plans with Fibs, and Folklore Foolery. Draw Circles of Deceit on Hearts that Swallow Whole. Dye the pigments of Oxygen Deprived skin. Ornament my Limbs w/Superficial things. Bandage my neck, and shove me in the Circus Ring. Spotlight my Flaws and Slice open my Shins.

Lie with Sweat Rolling down over your eyes, but Keep the Contact Smooth and Uninterrupted. Keep it Shallow and Keep on Touching. Put together some Syllables and Keep on Fucking. Bestow upon their Ears gifts full of Nothing.

Taste her Tears, and Hear him Bluffing. The Jokers die Laughing, before the Joke is even Delivered. On-lookers look Apathetic, and wait for the Come On to Roll off her Gullible Tongue. They wait for the Sorrow to Disprove nothing could Possibly be Wrong.

Keep it self-centered, and keep Mouths Occupied. Speak nothing Pertinent to Future Feelings Exposed with Sunshine. The Night lasts Just Long Enough to keep Your Narcissism alive.

Charade

Charade

 

Charade

Lets all go out and Play. They always have Quick-Fix Remedies and those oh-so-lovely Melodies. Punch spiked with Lust and Perspiration. And Linens to rest Your Pretty Head. That Corporal Amusement for a Soul already Dead. In Need of Things Disguised and things Forgotten which will Never be Again Said. The Masquerade will Stop for me Today. That's what i Tell Myself when i Go to Bed. The Blankets will Cover my Feelings and Cover our Heads.

 

X’s and Oh’s; not so much the Former nor Ladder.

these contact lenses can't grasp Anything Tangible through all the Film and Grime. it's Materialized. Staring up at you from underneath my eyes. Millions of snippets of clips flicker on the screen. arms Crossed in their reflection, Inattentive to the scenes.

in lieu, Dissecting chipped paint Running off the basement walls and Frivolous dust-bunnies dancing around my feet. Carcinogen Kissed Smoke Unpretentiously makes them and you Retreat towards unscathed recliners and love-seats.

What a Shame for Apprehensive lips to try to kiss Disengaging necks that spoke of Earlier Promised Mockeries of Love?, dare i say the word. I'm Treading over the skeleton and bones my skin Craves to hug. you're Tactfully detached in box office hits and movie soundtracks.

Forlorn Fingertips attempt to affect your Inept Stability. a beating of a Corpse lying beneath me. and Lying right to me, and Through me.

Off.

a lack of physical actions leads to far too many thoughts of me, & you, and something like "us"

all these words are strenuous and stressful. when it started out care free and fuking easy. reality and simplicity violate each other, in volatile ways, and i'm lost for a way to find how to adhere the two together, so i dont make things worse than better. i need some confirmation, to make some sense of my frustration, but all i get are sweet nothings, and i really feel they are just that; a pile of null promissory notes and pledges, for lack of words that are more poetic. i'm consistently apologizing my agnostic thoughts, and hypocritically seeking out what i've always sought. baby, please i beseech you beg me pardon, and try to see, how i construe what you have said to me. its never as absolute, nor as clear as i would like be. nevertheless the lack of assurance, makes me no less apprehensive, to spew out my heart, fuck it and hence my deficient defenses.

Case Scenario.... here and now.

Before the touch Burns my Memory, and i still Feel Composed. Swirl your cigarette-stained fingertips Inside my Soul. Brand the lids of my eyes, with the Tears that you Cry. Spill your Whispers in my Head. Smude Intercepting shadows on your bedroom floor.

Passing Passion Isn't on the agenda for today. Lightyears down the road... you'll Trace these Memories again. But they Won't Endure what was Never Uttered into sound, Far Away Lost, too Feeble to be Found. These Curves will Pretzel themselves into Our Molds, we'll Still Fit, but Not in the Way we Used to Know.

No one EVER wants to Answer "Why?"

Constricted and Concaved. The Hollowing in my chest Undermines my Spinal cord. Not to Mention the Spiderwebs Smoldering and Weeding their Parasitic silk over and under your Once Always comforting deliveries presented to me on the telephone.

Honesty Loses All definitions in my Censored reserve; Indefinitely placed on the back-burner, 'til i See Reason to Let it burn.

I Swore it Up

& Down.



And i Swear i Didn't Lie.



The Night and the Sunrise Appear likewise, and are Indistinguishable to my Subjective Eyes.



The blade Doesn't Cut as Sharp as i had remembered. My fingernails Bombard the mounds of ashes Carelessly assembled over time. I've Only been here Just a Short while.



I've been Collecting soon-to-be I.O.U.'s to Give Away my heart. But Insufficient amounts of paper and ink that Doesn't bleed as Dark puts my Sincerity on Finicky lines, and my words Undisclosed, Invisibly marked.



How am i to Materialize these things i said, when i Constantly Scream, "Why?" in that Fairytaleistic boy-who-cried-wolf style? Is it Even Why? I even Doubt that. It's the Concoction of "what if's..?" plus "but this.." and "but that..", that Rummage Through my Lips. The ones i am Convinced you Can Read and i Don't Even Try to Hide. But "why's" are so Easy to Disclose, Because No one Has Definite Answers, Nor the Willingness to Give a quarter of a 1/2-assed try to Answer the Hardest Question i've Ever been asked, and will Reiterate.

Why?