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Onyx DreamsOnyx Dreams
 
Fluctuations of sound waves vibrate the floor,
While the lights of my room glow brilliantly,
But as time winds down and my energy starts its decline,
My vision gets blurry and listening becomes hearing,
And hearing becomes simple background noise,
While Palaceer Lazaro’s words become filmy intonations
Yet, still creating a motion picture full of abstract images,
In my mind full of words and phrases that do nothing but stay stagnant,
And Slumber begins to wrap her warm hands around my head,
As she sweetly begins to pull me into black depths of rest,
A state of unconsciousness that will take me on a journey,
Through the grey abyss we call the center of our nervous system,
And once I fall into the pit of nothingness, the pit of onyx, for those few hours,
I will transform into an atramentous being with aphotic wings,
Because “black is free……..”
I Don't Miss AdolescenceMy sister calls to ask me if I'll do her makeup;
Mami promised that she would, but she's tired
and screamed when Maria reminded her senior prom
is tonight. She says, "I have a hickey on my neck,
something she doesn't want to cover, and you've always
done a better job of highlighting the subtle graces
inherent to my bone structure, the angles we share."

I say, "That's okay, but I can't pick you up,"

so she arrives in a flourish of exasperations,
telling me all the family business, waving her nails
in my face and talking about the pain of her extensions.
She says, "Do you think we need yellow concealer?
I plan to take pictures, and the last
You were cold insideYour lips tasted of
summer, of warm days and
cherry-flavoured ice,
relaxing by the
pool side and
smiling against the sun.

You should have been too hot,
too sticky, too humid.
You should have
overheated, should have
melted into your bones until
they turned to ashes, but
it never happened.

I suppose I should have
seen it coming, but
I was so moonstruck over
the way you said my name, so
in love with the idea
of love, that I
didn't notice the way
your eyes bled
winter.
The HourglassWatch the hands go round and round.
Ahhhh, how long have I been sitting here,
Listening to the grandfather clock?
Watching him ticking away?
Watching the polished wood yellow and rot?
And with every sound he makes
More maggots eat his wooden flesh.

Every grain that falls is an eternity!
In the firelight you can see the glass.
The dust that coats the cracking bulb,
Listening to the sand that trickles down.
Listening to the passing hours.
With every grain that filters through
Another man sleeps eternally.

The sundial stands defiant!
From my leather chair I see it!
It stands defiant in the plaza below me!
Standing in the moonlit night.
Standin
7 - The Pet PoetI remember when Mommy bought you
a black-haired pet for your sweet sixteenth.
Its bronze collar said its name was "Poet."
You fed it noise from the out-of-tune piano,
intense moments involving flesh and razors,
and the occasional walk by the lake.

At first, he knew only the wolf's howl,
purging blood and flames onto the carpets.
Everywhere was a smell of extravagance --
like that woman's cheap perfume on the train to work.
But you cried a little less,
smiled a bit more.
And that was when Daddy stopped
trying to send it back to the shelter.

Soon, you even started watching T.V.
(and enjoyed food, dressed nice, made friends.)
But T
nothing specialthey tell you not to give up
because you have potential--
and to the ones who simply enjoy
you're probably fantastic
but to those who do
you're simply mediocre,
nothing to bat an
eyelash at.

you're not quite bad enough
to quit, but you're not
great enough to be
remembered.
unrequitedyou make my words
gather at the hollows
of my throat
until i choke on them.

my fingers ache to
hold you--
but my eyes ache to
cry.

you're nothing but heart break
wrapped in a bow
of something beautiful,
like the dust of grace from
fallen angels.

i drink a little faster and
cry a little harder
because the way whiskey and tears
mingle on my lips
tastes suspiciously of love.
VIIEncore un peu de cendre
Au coin de tes lèvres
Parolescentes

J'épluche tes souhaits
Tu laves le ciel
En vain

Et dans ce vent chaud
Des milliers de pétales
De peau
SeppukuA blue sky greets me as I kneel to the ground.
I hear the rushing wind and the sacred water sound.
The cold, grey stone upon my knee,
As I prepare myself for eternity.

I take a solemn look at my silent crowd,
Those cruel, dark faces scream so loud.
They want me to do the final deed.
I'll plunge the tanto in. They'll see me bleed.

I look for a while at my full rice bowl,
And prepare for the next cycle of my soul.
What shall I be? A man or god?
Shall my next life be lived in the mud and sod?

I finish quickly so we don't delay.
By now the light is fading away.
I take up the pen and start to write,
To put brush to paper is one last delight.

"
Equestrian StormEquestrian Storm

I was walking through Canterlot,
as rain beat my plot.
I just didn’t feel right,
before it came into my sight.

The princess of the night,
alone and broken.
What a pitiful sight,
out of my slump, twas awoken.

“Princess, why are you here why are you crying?”

“Because nopony loves our night, I would be better off dying!”

“No Luna no, now that you shouldn’t say!”

“And why ever not, what reason hath you that I should stay?”

“Celestia for one, your sister whom you love.”

“Right sure, the sister from whom to the moon I was shoved.”

“Lu
Thinking.Thinking without thought,
Not thinking about a lot.

Thinking about what it how it would be,
To have a thoughts as endless as the sea.

Thinking about the passing time,
About the mountains I have not climbed.

Thinking about a world gone by,
And about the big blue sky.

Thinking about love so sweet,
And of life crumbling at my feet.

To think about everything vast as it seems,
Would take as long as counting dreams.

So to think without a thought,
And not to think about a lot.

Would carry on an endless dream,
And let time unravel at it's seams.
No wordsI don't like to talk.
I feel that words cannot truly express what I feel.
When I am filled with emotion, I can find no word that can express what I feel to the fullest.
There is no word beautiful enough to describe this joy, no word horrible enough to describe this hate, no word ugly enough to describe this miserable existence.
a small dosage per daysorrow makes its way into my cup of tea every morning
so I add more spoonfuls of sugar into it,
hoping the sweetness will overpower the bitterness;

yet, this clever feeling still seeps through the sweet substance
and clings to the sugar's particles,
races through my veins
and scatters in my blood,

making an entire day feel ruined
already.
Left AloneYou want me to leave you alone?  I'll leave you alone.

You want me to buy you a cake and a knife?  Sure I'll do that.

So, what else do you need me to do?  OK.  That should be easy to do.

Here I go, walking to and fro, to unknown destination just so I can please you.

You hate my guts, huh?  Well, to be honest, and I will not lie, I hate your guts too.

You see me and I see you, walking past each other each and everyday - We do not smile.

I often invision you surrounded by flames and you invision me drowning in the sea.

And here is my question to you: Why do you hate me so much?

You snarl as you echo my words: Why do YOU hate me so much?
Right Ulna and RadiusStill I remember the day I spent
lying, green, in a hospital bed
swaddled in blankets.

The afternoon I woke,
sprawled across the classroom floor,
my words slurring and arm
swelling,
trying to pick faces out
of the black spots in my vision
and begging eyes to tell me
what had happened
where I was
who I was.

The way the
two nurses rubbed feeling back into my
ice-cold fingers
and dripped my blood into a
tube, cell by cell by cell,
for fear that my basic structure would
hit the bottom of the vacuum and
shatter.
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More from ~PassionsInsanity

The SS Californian light'swhether or not i live under these false pretences –

there is not a chronic blood cell in my veins that would think about leaving you despite the fact you're a poisonous drug flying freely through this rapt and unfulfilled cocoon.
we live on islands, you and i and seagulls act as personal homers because this spitting distance is more than a simple crack in your forehead.
a hundred miles and counting kept us apart and this constant moving earth crest doesn't make it any easier and every boat i take sinks into the Grand Banks and Icarus' wings proved to be apocryphal.
i'm too tired to fully distinguish the polychromatic hallucinations
This interchangeable nonage.here is you and here is i
and
where do you plan
to take this to?

-i.
to your mother's
the old bitch is ancient
and lives on traditions that
even those that have been dusted
wouldn't rely on.

-ii.
to your father's
that stupid fart needs
to be able to hold a razor
and cut of that idiotic mustache
that blocks the spit coming from his mouth.

-iii.
to your sister's
whose sitting on the bus
her legs spread wide open the
silk of her pink panties vivid and
clearly visible under this umbrella.

-iv.
to your brother's
the jockstrap of this family
he watches porn long after the sun goes down
and pretends to be alright
at th
Reflections within taste buds.-i.
find me,
on a dark and crescent
day in which clouds of sulphur
pretend to be nebulae and celestial
prisms conquer your intricate chemicals
such as hormones.

-ii.
the static noise of television
rushes past his ghost in this total
naked truth with cigarette
stains in the colour of red
musqitoes swarm around my head
and try to eat me alive.

-iii.
if you have no idea
about counterfoil and the
four other words behind umami
please do not
look for me.
On the wine-dark seachapter i.
please, let me be a coward
for today I do not have the courage
to pretend to be brave
for the Spartans died for glory
then again
Spartans never feared death nor shame
a-ho.

chapter ii.
am i really so intrinsically ancient
that i am merely luminous phosphine
or you do simply, painfully plainly,
do not notice me.

chapter iii.
i am a masochist,
hiding for 90% under a still, shimmering surface
because i'm too much of a caitiff person to show
i'm truthfully only a cold-hearted bitch.
(i'm an iceberg. watch me sink you.)

chapter iv.
i love you. beware. i sink you.

chapter v.
this collision is only temporary,
s
Mescaline predestineand finally, i stand here before you, bleak and naked, rapt and unfulfilled.

i borrowed courage from this vagabond i met on the street's on a rainy afternoon and he told me, i should be okay. and yet i'm standing here, blindfolded as a fool, as if running around in a chamber where they smashed all the lights. this transparent pagan heart of yours undisguised and exposed in the foggy morning slumber, i wish you would fade, vaporise like flour in the air and be erased by the coming flood of salt, which tickles our stained feet in order to call upon our faithful debt. we're dried flowers on a platter, open for display simply cheap entertainment
On a New York highway
Because i was stupid and
misplaced on this rollercoaster ride
i felt like garbage tossed aside
lying aimlessly on a busy New York highway
i'm sorry
my dog ate my head

because everything was just a failure
and black turned out to be purple and
purple was hurried unconsidered green
i represent the non-fictional close-up meaning
of a loser
don't be sorry at least i am something
(was presenting anything)

i cannot believe that you gave away my ethereal fences
i hope barbed wired made your hands bleed
and diminished letters became dingo's
in your hair

in this hugger-mugger i lost myself and
despite your lack of fanciness
i be

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[x]

Shelter

:iconpassionsinsanity:

i come home
to a history museum.
this is not a home.
this is a place where
fog is whipped from windows
as the sea crashes in and
black and white photographs
tell
the tragedies of the world.
i'm wearing stolen scarfs and
disbanded shoes.

there is sand between my toes.
there is sand between my toes.

you were wearing flip flops
and blue and
sepia brown eyes
discarded me.
they used to look at me
with these wrinkles in your
gentle face
'i have seen you
naked'
they said.

there is sand between my toes.
there is sand between my toes.

and you have,
seen me naked.

just two minutes apart
and still an ocean
of beliefs and memories
spread out between us.
no strings attached,
you said.
just for fun,
you said.

deep within
i held a prolonged theory
one of peace and rest
and no more,
no more.

there is sand between my toes.
there is sand between my toes.

i have captured
people
in a small frame with
crystal glass separating
me
from cruelty and abhorrentness,
documenting
darkness.

no more.
find me shelter,
find me heart,
resurrect piles of bones and
build (a) new fantasy.  

i had asked for
reasons to stay
to fill in cupboards and
determine where to put
my shoes.
i had asked for arms
as blankets and a chest
to rest my head on.
you wore me like
a piece of clothing and yet.

you said goodbye so easily.

there is sand between my toes.
there is sand between my toes.

you nestled under my skin
and i cannot run from
my own skin.

no more.


P.S. give me shelter (and i'll find shelter).
:iconpassionsinsanity:
Thank you Birdy, for that favourite song.

I had a weird dream and have a new cheerleading-high-school-girl crush. This is the result, based solely on my love for drama, this weird dream and this hot guy. It's not real. Unfortunately. I think.
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