Some Past Writing, I Am An Artist And Words Are My Medium
Poisoned
If contaminated.
(You are hated)
What if the contamination
Had faded?
Would you still be hated?
(People judge lives)
Off this contamination I do thrive.
Become normal in everyone else's eyes
Or shall I keep this contamination of mine
Alive?
I'm Contagious, So Kiss Me
I'm Contagious,
Outrageous.
Anything But Flawless,
Don't You Want To Touch This?
Kiss This,
Feel This,
Hurt This,
Embrace This.
Kiss Me Again,
Make Me A Little Less Human.
Come On, Hit Me.
Make It Hurt.
Make My Vision Go Blurry.
Maybe Then I'll See,
How Everyone Else Sees Me.
Abused
I'm blessed with this heart,
But its been broken too many times.
Please don't tear me apart,
The rest of this body is mine.
But you don't listen,
And your hand gets brought back.
You say I'll never win,
And you give me a smack.
I'm sorry I'm not good enough,
But that's just too damn tough.
I'm me and that's all I'm going to be,
So just leave, please.
I've taken a stand,
Against your hurtful hand.
Say goodbye,
I'll never let you see me cry.
Love's Cycle
Summertime, fields covered in snow.
How you confuse me so.
It's too much,
Increasing with every single touch.
Falltime, everything is now alive.
Look at you trying to lie.
You love to toss me around
Because you know I won't make a sound.
Wintertime, filled with a raging flood.
You are absorbed into my blood.
I desperately need you to fix this mess,
But that I'll never confess.
Springtime, everything is dead
And I can never forget what you said.
These seasons of your love I'll never get.
Fake all you want, you haven't missed me yet.
The cycle repeats
And I never miss a beat.
Come Closer Sweetheart
Come, catch this disease
Kiss me with your infamous ease
I need to taste your heart in my mouth
Hear your stifled shout
I want to indulge in your scream
It's the only thing that makes this my scene
I love the torture in your voice
It's my weapon of choice
Come, wrap your hands around my windpipe
I swear the infectious air that rises won't bite
It'll only kill you, putting the ball n my court
And your mind, I will painfully warp
This life you cannot survive
You death is the ultimate sacrifice
I'll cut the tendons from your brain
You won't feel an ounce of pain
Come, let your poisonous blood drip
Seductively lick my knife tip
I'll watch tears fall from your mesmerizing eyes
Tonight is the night you finally die
As blood drips from my deadly blade
I watch your lifeless existence melt away
Dreamland
I lay in bed and wonder
Night after night
If I'll ever fall under
And lose this never ending fight
Will I ever find that happiness again
The kind you feel over and over
The kind that never ends.
Or will I stay
Stuck in the pattern
Being the prey
Of the painful tears that never go away
It hurts deep inside
And sometimes the pain we cannot hide
But one day... one day
I am bound to find
The place where it all will subside
Every feeling is temporary
Like the bodies we bury
And one day
I'll find my secret get away
You Look Beautiful Ugly
Lets dress ugly up,
Make it fake,
Do what it will take.
Death becomes remarkable,
Flowers and bouquets.
Make it all go away.
Lets see the truth,
Give me hardcore proof.
Your ugly on the inside,
Stop trying to hide.
Dress the ugly up,
It won't look so rough,
I say this is enough.
Ugly is seen as a task,
Hidden behind that pretty mask.
Nobody sees loved ones when they decay,
Children shot where they lay.
Presidents bringing hookers home,
The tap installed on your phone.
Put it to a halt.
I wanna see ugly released from the vault..
Musical Beauty
Intelligent music drifts through my open bedroom window, along with the chilled fall air resting upon my hot face. It seems to hold all the answers to everything I seek, yet not a soul can decode its cryptic message, spoken in unknown tongues. The chords float through the dead, colorful, descending leaves and through my heart; music so full of life yet drifting among objects absent of it. Each note released tells a different story, full of danger, hatred, love, pain, guilt; all the feeling of life in one note, placed by his skilled hand.
His knowledge finds a home within his music: his travels of life and all he has experienced. He hopes to pass it all on to these magical sounds that float so freely among the lightly sleeping neighborhood. Pass it all on in order to lift the burden from his heavy, sorrowful heart and soul.
He can no longer flow like these notes, drifting without a care in the world. No longer dancing with such grace among the many lessons of time, as unseen and unheard as the most agile alley-cat hunting for a mouse. Instead, he sits on the cold, unforgiving rooftop and plays these impassioned tunes in payment for the short glimpses of beauty he so stole from the eyes of the privileged, as if anybody deserved to see such beauty. He caught merely an ounce of grace with his hardened eyes and has paid for it with every moment of his being. However, it all seems to be worth it, for to find beauty in this world is near impossible without the artist's eye, the deserving. How unfair. He hopes, practically begs that afterlife will be gentler on him, in his next life he will no longer suffer or fall a victim to hunger, heartbreak or be coaxed into the arms of beauty only to pay for it with eternity. Similar to love, which hate accompanies- hideousness is beauty's companion. For without hate, there is no love and without ugliness there is no beauty. Without pain, no pleasure.
He hopes with all the strength left in his being that he will be blessed next time around with the eye privileged enough to see the beauty, not having to pay for it with every bit of himself. He hopes and wishes. He is bound to die surrounded by the notes of his life, always carrying his story to others such as myself.
I am so blessed to hear of the story, to hear these astounding notes that drift to my innocent ears at night, but will I pay for it like he has? Only time shall tell and as I lay in my bed and wonder, his bewitching, aware and agile notes carry his body, heavy with sorrow. They carry him over that lonesome, harsh rooftop... off the edge and he is where he belongs... wherever that is.
Time holds all victim.
Scars
Baby- you have no idea the stories a pretty body can tell.
Strip it down, you'll practically hear the mutilations yell.
The scars, clear and defined, all scream and shout.
All the trapped, taunting spirits fighting to be let out.
Then you'll see why every little touch unearths a flinch.
Will you accept every single imperfect inch?
On Writing
I love the way my pen glides across the page,
Like a dancer drifts across a smooth stage.
The ink tells a long forgotten story,
Overflowing with blackened fury.
Why would I ever want to rid my will to write,
That's like an angel... giving up in mid flight.
For to write is to project my voice,
I'd do it in public if it was my choice.
But that is asking for trouble, you see.
Getting shot for anything you try to be.
So I'll stick to a pen in my hand,
These words in my command.
Atheism
Atheism is the best cure for your disease,
Put your constant need to please "God" at ease.
Let you relax a little, put your mind at peace,
Your soul will be officially freed.
Don't worry, this bitch ain't tryin' to convert you,
I'm just giving you the option to end the abuse.
This rational reasoning has a short fuse,
Just hold your lighter to it and let your mind loose.
Why would you want to live by someone else's rules anyway?
Basing your life around how many times you pray,
Forced to keep the demon called desire away.
Come to the rational side, I promise you'll enjoy your stay.
So, have you made that all important decision?
Live life freely and without religion's false visions.
It's so easy to see that this is the better side of the division,
End your pointless fucking mission.
Sacrifice Anonymous
Why must we repay a lost life
Given up for our sins
When we didn't ask for redemption
Or forgiveness to begin?
I Pity You
Reality is what I see
And it’s way too real for me.
Love and hate,
Baby- you’re too late.
We’re all our own victims
Living by life’s theorems.
Swallowing medication left and right
Only to cover up problems and fright.
Destiny and fate still glow,
Wind will still blow.
The widow will still cry,
And the cancer patient will still die.
The glass will stay on the beach
And peace- still out of reach.
So do what you do,
And I will still pity you.
Untitled (Any Suggestions Would Be Appreciated)
Sometimes I worry and know you don't care.
Sometimes there's water, less often there's air.
Sometimes I can't cry, yet sometimes I just do.
Most times I wish and know it won't come true.
Sometimes I hold you tight because I'm scared to let go.
Sometimes you wiggle and squirm, wanting to scream "No".
Sometimes I'm sorry for the problems I tend to create.
Most times I know it's nothing more but pure fate.
Sometimes I don't expect you to understand my ways.
Sometimes I want you to so bad, I sit here and pray.
Sometimes I get so scared, my body shutters and shakes.
Most times I know you think I'm nothing but fake.
Sometimes I breathe,
Most times I choke.
Sometimes I have hope,
Most times I don't
I'm Still... Somewhere?
I smelled smoke all day. Not cigarette smoke, not marijuana smoke, not campfire smoke… ghastly smoke; smoke that annihilates houses, destroys lives… eliminates all hope. Nobody else smelled it, the sulfuric, woody scent that haunted me. Out of all four of us in the car, I was the only one. We broke down while driving through clouds of fog: forming out of nowhere, giving the long, seemingly endless highway a ethereal appearance. Stationed on the side of the deserted highway, I heard my boyfriend and our friends bicker endlessly, pointlessly about the car’s failure and the smell grew stronger, yet still.. I was the only one to notice. And then it happened. I’ve asked myself, over and over, was it fate? Was there a reason I was the only one who suspected it… sensed the danger? Is it the reason I am still alive, if you can call this alive. Trapped inside my mind… alone in here, isolated, my thoughts and I… condemned. I hear their voices day in and day out… less every day, it’s hard to believe someone is alive when they have not moved in a year. However, I am alive, can’t you hear me shouting? Can’t you see me tearing at my eye sockets, screaming to be let out. Don’t leave, don’t do it, I’m still here… I’m.. Still….
Soul River
Laying on the floor… bleeding out.
A river flows by, sticks floating about.
I see my mind drift away, carrying my thoughts.
This river never stops and I have not fought.
The rain falls down, all my feelings inside.
The carpet is drenched, coming along for the ride.
This is what you do to me, with every heart beat.
Tear out my insides, from my head to my feet.
Seeking And Searching For You
Green, gray, blue… green, gray, blue… green, gray, blue.. Overwhelming, everywhere, swallowing my thoughts, mind swimming in the colors. I am running, running, bare footed, through dew-soaked, bright green grasses. I am searching, endlessly through the grays of every tombstone, every mark of the end and the beginning. The end of life, the beginning of never ending grief. Blue clarity, beating down on my dark hair, radiating from the skies. This is all I see. Miles and miles of green, gray, blue. I am searching, I am seeking, I do not find. Where is he? Where is the cold, gray, lonely tombstone with the letters of his name etched deeply into the stone, time waiting patiently to fade them. Where can he be? He is not here, and yet I keep running, searching, seeking… knowing what I will never find. Miles and miles, every tombstone on the face of the over populated earth is before me yet he is not here and I still run and run… searching and seeking. Every night, and I awaken more tired than when I lay my head down to sleep.
There's much more where this came from, I took what was on my Deviant Art because it was easy access. Enjoy, any feedback is more than welcomed. If you would like any background information on any of my poetry/short stories, I will be more than happy to tell you where I got the idea from if I can remember and other information, such as how long it took me to write it, what I wrote it on (that's always an interesting one, I wrote one poem spanning three packets of sugar at a diner hahah), etc. Thank you for reading it. None of my writing is meant to offend, I am a writer and writing is how I voice my opinion. If you don't agree with it, that's fine, but please leave me at my peace. I have not wronged you by writing any of this.