Wounds.

all that is left behind
is the faint trail of the song
that you played last night
to create a mood
that would make you feel good
about the scars that you painted
on the hands that held you so close.

you, screaming like a mad man
while she
shrieked her lungs out
and tore apart
the white sheets
stained red.

Ella Fitzgelard does to you
what fuel does to fire
and you transform
into something savage
but oh! so beautiful
and out of control.

you, who wants her to
say your name
with her bleeding lips
which you nibbled at, carelessly
while you devoured
her face
to satiate that undying passion
that overwhelms you.

and all that is left behind
is the smell of your
stale skin
and sweat
mixed with the fragrance of
burnt out incense sticks,
and me.

_________________________________

possibly the strongest thing that I have ever written
and i don't even know why i did so.

...and I am mourning the loss of a friend...

because i did not know that it would hurt me so
because i had to say goodbye and let you go.

because angels break their wings and lose flight
because good mornings were never exchanged when the sun was bright.

because you were ticklish and defended yourself with a poke
because i have cried so hard that i could choke.

because my rhymes were never any good at all
because i had to write this to cushion my fall.

...there is life flowing through those veins,
only if you could feel it pound against your cold, dead skin...

Being stupid, and other such things.

Because i want to swear at you
and call you names you haven't
heard before.
Because my mind is tired,
my hands ache
and my eyes are sore.
Because rhymes are meant
to be pathetic and stupid
and all those other things.
Because i suck
at poetry and my
guitar has broken strings.
Because the next line
should start here
right now.
Because you laughed
and i had you
at "wow".

disharmony.

sometimes, i lose consciousness...

and i see you slipping away
as i fall into the pool of colour drenching me
and snuffing life into me,
a charcoal sketch on a white canvas.

and i look around
and i notice that i have limbs
and a head
and eyes
and a gut.
i am human, perhaps,
but far from it.

i am singing
a song without words
or a tune.
you hear me.
you,
sitting a few light years away,
at the edge of reason
ready to take the plunge
to give me company,
smell the selfsame air of sweet nothingness
that makes its way
through my nostrils.

they seem so far away
spiralling out of reach...

shipwreck

our rockstars have died,
and the mousse is gone.
i shall wait for you right here
while you decide to move on.

the last song still echoes in my head
but it keeps getting fainter, still,
with no MotherFucking kids in uniform
making a riot with broken strings.


this might very well be the worst thing that i have ever written.
but i still had to do this.
this is to one of my bestestest friends.
you know who you are.

i can't hear you.
listen to me.