get out, probably

Whatever.

sunnyishome — Wed, 29 May 2013 02:53:00 -0400

They say “write what you know”
And I, “not a thing”
Monuments to the bottom
Know you saw them
Know it’s raw zen
Rock, bottom out
When given the choice
A diamond is a rock, too
The literal Atlas
Butterflies of slugs
Tired atoms pull out rugs
Coal without a fuck to give
Moving up and off the dirt
Onto greedy fingers
On glad hands
These man-lands
Are dead lands
Stick up, stuck on
Move paralysed pawns
Who can’t see their feet
Who can’t change the hate
No will, no love
Money never fails to consummate

e.y.

Drowning.

sunnyishome — Wed, 29 May 2013 02:50:00 -0400

Last thing you say and last I heard
Before the rush of salty sea
Ears ringing with those last three words
Under waves, lips close to me

Alive, alive, but dead and dead
Eyes open wide beneath the stars
We died so slow, but never bled
Death carves a place to rest our hearts

No soul will listen while you weep
Until your own has gone
Posthumously, poets reap
But Walt, I’ll never be your lawn

We said goodbye to earthly woes
We said goodbye to Us
We said goodbye to writing prose
With leadened hearts right on the cusp

The water filled my empty chest
I watched it fill yours, too
Lay me down in sand to rest
Life is purely for the fools

e.y.

Evil.

sunnyishome — Wed, 29 May 2013 02:36:40 -0400

There is evil in my heart.
Ugly illness making craters, dark pits of despair
in my fevered, heaving chest.
Cracking but with no treasure to give.

Oh heady hateful tonic, I will rid myself of you.

I have no leeches to pull the poison, but I know another way.
Tiny vessels wait. Knowing.
Just as eager to be purged.
Pulsing, reckless beneath delicate skin.

My veins: blue and green bruises, filled with malevolence.
Latent corruption belied by the luscious liquid where it hides.
Gospel lies in a single act -
to sin against my skin, to cut the dastard veins.
This metal gleams by coloured light
and the anxious remedy begins.

One line.
Another.
Silver furrows deep in my flesh
and I watch as if a stranger.
Fingers grip cool metal, caressing it over my skin five, six, seven times.
If there is pain, the transience is absolute.

Sanguine drops collect across the
careless scores I draw.
Wet, glittering beads delight to smell of life,
but also of decay.

The evil laughs on my skin.
These cruel and blushing drops,
they slip, giggling between raised hairs and precious freckles.
Warm in my veins,
but cooled by stale air I have breathed over and over.
I let crimson roads find their way down my arms -
grinning, chilly trickle on my skin.

Bright, smiling tears fall out of me,
dripping off my sinned skin
onto stark cloth where I watch the culmination of my crime -
my arcane bloodletting ritual.

I collapse, nearly content.
Nearly happy.
Nearly dead.

e.y.