Red II

I see you
dressed in black
carrying red
atop your head.

I see you
passing through
wearing blue
when blue
never suited you.

I see you
Heeding the call
the unmasking
the fall
seeing me
I
A grey
sad as it may

I want to write you
tell you I’m restless
tell you I’m sorry
to come to me
undress to undo me
lay beside me
and dream of colours
Inside of me
but unfortunately
You are me.

I see you
stars above
rain lust on me
surrender
and look at me
as I consume you
get high off of you
bite your thighs
and wrap fingers
around your neck
abuse you
if it please you

O’Stars above
dressed in black
carrying red
I see you.

Your idiot.

Mendacious Circumlocution – Part VII

There are no days anymore, the numbers change, the weather changes but the days do not, it is merely one prolonged and vague day that masterfully hides its repetition by creating different masking to the details.

I do not recall it being like that since I spawned into this realm, a human among many. I remember it being different each passing morning sun and slightly more vivid, alive per say. Unfortunately I started seeing, beyond the illusions created to blind us from how basic life really is until the aforementioned realization.

Sleep has gotten shorter as the visions an obscene amount of my sight. There is not a beginning nor an ending, every supposed start is a theoretical stop, truth hides within the lechers and no good deed goes unpunished.

My writing seems greatly affected by the this lack of an identifiable timeline to my existence, the words are fleeting, the ideas are circles and the paper often looks bored. Yet I write and I write and I write in hopes that midst the mist, a surge of brilliance will welcome me into its arms and lets me sleep in peace or in pieces even. 

Among these wanderings, I dive slowly, move my arms towards the distant surface and as my head pierces through, the air suffocates me even further until I die, descend and wish for it to be the end. To my dismay, I find no relief and no release, there is no end, there is only a big, red and angry replay button allowing the melancholic saga to continue.

Between a rock and the hardest of places

Between the one that was

the one that is

and the one that will always be,

I miss the rock

and the hard place

for they are defined,

measurable,

mortal,

when the mask is not,

when the task is not.

She whispered emotions

as I screamed in agony,

in despair,

She is no longer,

I can no longer see,

I can no longer be

as I look into the abyss

that is her eyes,

as I gaze upon the lie

I told myself,

her face was salvation

turned damnation,

her words were saviors,

now sanguine crusaders,

her touch was the healing

as I was the curse.

Forsaken,

my mask forsakes me,

for I’ve betrayed the entity he is,

nature overcame nurture,

only to lose the face,

to lose the faith

in the raging sea,

that is the pretentious I,

the accursed I,

the forsaken I

by choice

and only by choice

as I gaze upon the nothingness

that once was

everything.

She vanished

as I was vanquished,

I want nothing,

I want peace.

Yours unfortunately,

Zeus

PS: I’m as confused as you are.

Hate by Maanesten