Oh Melancholy My Love~

So I’m alone again. It’s been a while since I opened this page. Maybe I was happy for that while. But honestly I don’t know. Dysthymia has gotten the best of me again. This time I think I have forgotten how to love. It is not that I do not want to. It is just.. I don’t feel much anymore these days. 

I’ve torn myself open and gave so many bits of my heart away that there was nothing left for you. I’ve sewed myself up so many times that all I feel is numbness now. It seems like there is only one thing I can love now:

Melancholy. It’s a strange feeling of comfort. It’s the reason I can’t love anything, or anyone. Time has allowed me to get good at faking emotions, laughter, tears, anger, frustration, just to fit in society. And I think I’ve done really well with it. I have social groups, I have connections, I even have admirers. I’ve faked so many emotions that sometimes I do not know if I’m experiencing them or not. In all truth, I sometimes wonder if I feel anything at all. 

Melancholy isn’t a state of sadness to me, rather an endless wave of emptiness. The comfort that I hold no connections to anyone or anything. That my life is my own to live or die if I wish so. The feeling that nothing can tie me down. I want to be alone in this world. But yet I cant. If I were to be stuck in the 5^th dimension like Matthew Mcconaughey, I think I will feel right at home. Away just away from everything. No connections, no friends, no lovers, just an endless emptiness. I would like to live in such a place. 

Oh look tears. I don’t know why these are falling. I did not love you. I could not love you. Neither am I feeling that sharp pain in the chest people associate with heartbreak. This is new to me. Ha. Maybe, somehow, I’ve soften up. A little, maybe. Ah they stopped. I count 3. 

This is frustrating. I want to love, I want the feeling of butterflies in my stomach. I want a deep personal connection with someone. I want to smile simply because I saw her face. I want that feeling whereby everything else doesn’t matter because we are together. 

Have I harden my heart so much that it’s too late for me? This thing beating in the middle of my chest, has it become so cold? Ice-nine. I think that’s what resides deep within me. Pumping devil’s water through my coal veins. 

Will someone come along and recite the lyrics to Coldplay’s Fix you to me? Cause I’ve tried my best I swear. And I don’t know what else I can do. Fix me! I dare you to! Just remember the world ended because of Ice-nine. That’s what resides within me so approach with caution. 

And if you are reading this, I’m sorry. I really am.

Don't turn out all the lights My mind won't go to sleep

I don't really write anymore.
I don't know what to do with myself.
I wake up alone
every day
but I never felt it so much as now
 
there is nothing to be said
about the sunlight or the swing or the porch railing
but they are my new homes.

sometimes
I fuck around
with people I pretend to know
and then I pretend
that it doesn't matter.

I go on silent rampages
of self abuse
I imagine I’m screaming
screaming
screaming
but I never am.

sometimes
I say I'm angry
when the truth is
it's just easier than saying 'I don't know.'
for such a know-it-all
I say a lot of I don't knows.

I have too much nothing inside
and I take care of things that
don't matter to me.
I turn off lights
and write lines.
sometimes I don't eat
just because I’d be empty afterwards anyway.

when I think of you
sometimes I smile
before I bleed knuckles

again.

The last Goodbye.

I've once caught myself wishing I could pay the world's sum of money to let you go
But I, I haven't been able to find that feeling,
that naturalness since you left.

I can't even explain how much I can't let myself Think!
because when I do I feel;
and feeling makes me remember love 
and how to do it.

I see the oceans birth itself in my eyes because I 
I can't express to you how much I miss kissing you without fear,
without hesitation
Or how much I miss lying next to you 
and just breathing you in every breath 
a breath of you

It was like I could live from you and you alone

But I,
I can't let myself go waiting for you 
Because waiting means hope 
And hope means disappointment - when it becomes expectation 
and if I hold on with hope as my fingers I know that I will break again. 
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So this is goodbye.
and this is the last Goodbye I will ever say.

It tastes like love.

I could speak of her in riddles,
in aged, anatomy textbook terminology-
but, I wont.

You see, I cuffed this angel to my bedpost.
I sank my teeth into feathers she wore like a cage
and asked if I was dreaming, because Love,
you're not holding me. If you only knew the you in my head,
every night--tearing with these heavenly fingers
at the cracks in my sanity- you would allow me this!

Her tongue tastes my tears; nails clawing, clawing, clawing-
she takes away my pain,
but she doesn't belong to me either.

"We are but wolves. 
Tell me, what does my blood taste like?"

Post Mortem

I like pretending I mean something to the ghosts
who wreak havoc on my bones
impaling these masochistic butterfly wings
on railroad spikes
between heartbeats and bedsheets
immortalized

I am a walking, talking universe of dead poets
who tattoo their stanzas into my flesh
with ghostly typewriter fingers

I live and breathe their worldly disasters
like a nicotine addiction I've always had

Drowning in their scribbles
I kiss their shoreline romances
envy their Annabel Lee's
and carry their hearts in mine

I am 7am coffee on Sunday mornings:
a half drunk, hung-over limerick
waiting to happen

I am jealousy:
nothing more than weak words,
and a tongue-tied cliche-

I am death:
Anathema,
A wanderer
The swiming liquid fire through the ashes
of a dead phoenix veins. 

I am Post Mortem.

Small musings

Father what is bigger than the moon?
The earth my child.
Why?
Because if the earth were an empty bird’s nest,
it could fit several moons inside.

What’s bigger than the earth?
A sun my child.
Why?
Because if a sun were an orange
then the earth’d be a tiny crumb of bread.
If you were starving, which one would you pick?

What’s bigger than a sun?
A galaxy my child.
Why?
Because if a sun were a bee,
a galaxy would be a swarm of bees
flying in hypnotic circles,
ellipses and parabolas around their hive.

What’s bigger than a galaxy?
Human thought my child.
Why?
Because thought is like a net
that can catch all the bees in the universe
and put them in a jar and study their
colors, structure, venom, instincts,
language, and habits.

What’s bigger than human thought?
Emptiness my child.
Why?
Because thought is like a tiny bubble in the vast
sea of nothingness that surrounds us,
leaving little more than a local ripple on the surface
once it expires.

Six hundred and eighty four days

For six hundred and eighty four days, I woke up. I woke up with this bone-deep ache that never went away. I woke up to an incessant question playing in my mind that would never be answered. I woke up alone.

For six hundred and eighty four days, I woke up without you when I woke up at all. The thing about time is that it never does make anything better. It just means more space to think. It means sleepless nights trying to figure it all out. When it went wrong. How to make it better. It means slowly losing my mind. But it never once meant getting over you.

It's funny how the things you think you've forgotten always come rushing back when you're standing face to face and in one swift breath, you remember it all.

You remember everything.

The sky is always the biggest right before it rains. That's how I learned to always couple disappointment with expectations since no matter how beautiful something seems, a disaster is always right on the horizon.

The waves are crashing quickly on the shoreline, building a momentum only my heartbeat could match. The rapid pounding against my ribs is getting faster and faster. The water is spilling against the coastline quicker and quicker. The whole world is moving too swiftly.

Until everything just stops—

Just completely stalls with the sound of your voice in my ear. You're the only person that could ever make the world stop. The only person who could ever make me stop. Make my heart stop.

It makes me sad. It makes me smile. It makes me completely crazy. But most of all, it makes me want you.

I can't remember the last time I saw you. Or at least that's what I tell you every time we talk, because I don't want you to know how many times I've replayed the sight of your eyes looking into mine, tears blurring my vision as I watched you walk away.

You look different now, but always the same. Always familiar. I want to step away from you. Distance will always be the thing that saves me so I've learned how to use it every time I'm terrified. And you scare me more than anything.

I told myself I wouldn't go here. I told myself I wouldn't do this again. I told myself I wouldn't come, but I do every fucking time. I want to. I have to. Because I miss you. Because I still love you.

All I can think when I see you is that you don't remind me of beautiful things anymore, because it's unimaginable to compare you to anything less breathtaking than you. I think about the way people change and how things evolve and then I think about the way I feel about you and how it's been the exact same since the moment I laid eyes on you.

I don't have enough words to tell you the story of how I followed you here. To this moment. To a second chance. To a different coastline.

All I know is that for six hundred and eighty four days, I woke up without you and I never want to remember what that feels like again.

These are the words I could never say to you.

No, I'm not giving up,
I'm not quiting.
I'm letting go. 
This time I know,
Its out of my hands.

For my entire life I have longed for love. 
I knew it was not right for me to want or expect it. 
But I did, 
and this unjustified desire has been at the root of every problem that I have experienced in my life. 

Right now,
all I know is how I feel,
and all I know is I feel dead
Make of it what you will.

What I need you to understand
is that every time I say to myself,
I love you,
I also say, it doesn't matter.

I never told you before about
how I loved you, and how angry
I was when I figured it out.
It seems denial can only get you so far.

You see
The thing is everyone tells me I can do better
and I know I can do better
But I don’t want better
I just want..

So when you asked me,
if I was ok,
I’m not
But I will be.

Resurrect

When I close my eyes
I can see inside my soul,
          like an x-ray machine,
          looking deep inside my bones.

My muscle and sinew
are bound up tight,
          and deep within,
          my strength hides from sight.
 
It's locked away
behind thick, lonely walls,
          housing carvings
          of days
          and lives
          and messed up roles.
 
And here I fear
my crutches of support,
          will crush beneath the miles
          that keep me moving forth.

And I fear my bravery
has weakened my mind,
          preventing my pen from bleeding innocence
          onto these papery lines.

Instead my paper seeps the anger
that's become my foe,
          that streams down my cheeks,
          menacing and slow.

I wish I could wring out my heart
through a wire sieve,
          saving only the savory
          to funnel back in.

My fingers twitch and scratch
at these itches that bleed,
          beckoning for some sort of reprieve,
          so that I may breathe.
 
And so I reach beyond reason over distant miles,
holding tight to steady the rattle of my bones,
          for far away smiles
          that feel like home.

If I were anything but ash and molten hopes I would worry too.

I have devil's water running through my coal-veins. Every morning, I get up and touch the mirror just so that I can fall into the reflection. Every change branded into the underside of my skin so that I can see their bitter stones sinking slowly through the uncharted rivers of my body. I am a façade. I am a lie. I have swallowed hearts and slung love at walls of destruction just to watch the plumes of smoke rise up the city atmosphere. I have watched my crumbling capillaries tie together into hangman's knots, my lips dyed red with lover and enemy alike. 

If I were anything but ash and molten hopes I would worry too.

I am a reverse phoenix who finds eternal death instead of everlasting life. You see, life is survival of the fittest and I am nothing if not a survivor. Life is survival of the fittest and I am the strongest one of all. I have fed and found nourishment in despair. My life stained with regret that even the strongest bleach cannot rid me of. With every day, this second skin stretches tighter and I can hear the monster bubbling under the surface. Behind my glazed eyes venom spreads into the gray, and from the inside I burn. It eats at my veins until I am empty. hollow. broken. But there, among the scars and the bones, I drown in my own silence as I wake in the middle of the night and run wild-eyed down the street with bloody footprints in my wake. Running from the fear that one day I will turn on myself. 

The Rhythm in the Roots, The Truth Behind the Sun

I'll warn you now: this is not romance.

These are not the words or cries of a star-crossed lover or a withered soul.
The blood in my veins is not the churning frenzy of adrenaline and obsession.
The shiver of my bones is not the quaking of mountains, or the rattle of time.

This is not a eulogy for kings or a warsong for nations. These are not the dreams of waking djinn, nor the schemes of sleeping ghouls.

My fingers do not reach the sky.
My tears do not crack the stars.

No, this is not romance.

These are the half-breaths and whisper-thoughts of groggy lips and wandering hands.
A lost memoir of twilight nothings and foggy apologies.
Mine is the sluggish ambers of memory, the quiet waters of recollection.

These are the oaths in the grass, the roots of my toes, the rhythm of my lungs.

These are the secrets buried in my skin.

This is the truth behind the sun.

The truth that a heart is no longer warm enough. That lips cannot speak the words.
That eyes cannot see the whole and all the oceans cannot hide that the gods are on bended knee and know: This is not romance.

I wish my eyes were a mirror

I wish my eyes were a mirror

so you can see you as I see
your heart was crushed by an image
built by a cruel society

I wish my eyes were a mirror
So that I may help you to believe
that what they say is lies
and show you how you are to me

I wish my Heart could speak clearer
to help you understand
that you are the only person
that can fill my empty hands

I wish I could be your saviour
Wipe away your fresh tears
I would gently say I love you
as I hold you through the years

And I wish my soul was a healer
to undo all of the pain
Make all their hostile efforts
finally end in vain

You can't choose what stays and what fades away

You are the hole in my head
You are the space in my bed
You are the silence in between what I thought
And what I said
You are the night time fear
You are the morning when it's clear
You're my head
You're my heart
And I'd do anything to make you stay
Tell me what you want me to say

========================================================
Through the crowd, I was crying out
And in your place there were a thousand other faces
I was disappearing in plain sight
Heaven help me, I need to make it right

I sang to the moon, but it just fell to the ground
and the whole world lit up, but not from the sound.
It wasn't my words or the fluctuation of my throat;

if my mouth is a capsule, then my tongue is a boat. 



The words didn't form by free will or carve out of thin air,

they rather spilled and they drained off the edge of a prayer.
That night, 
my lips didn't press against the pulse of luxurious truth,

they were rather scarred, shredded and torn by raw, fervent youth.

You see, the wind whispers ancient tales of love's true reality

promising young lovers of spring's honey and nectar sensuality,

but I've seen the claws and the beasts springing from summer's heart

and I know the demons that have crawled from winter's frigid start.



I know that love isn't a game to be played or a song to be sung,

in the end, it is a battle and a fight and a war to be won.

So when i'm singing to the silver-threaded breast of the moon,

I'm just punching battle cries straight to the heart of the typhoon.

(i sang to the moon, but it just fell to the ground
and the whole world lit up, but not from the sound.)

Nothing lasts forever except yesterday

Dance, dance your decay
All the while, unknowing you're led astray
Sleep, sleep through your woe
While your voice slowly withers and melts away

Sing, sing unto me, the pleasure and pain
Reveal to me the reasons my love's not in vain

- Ghosts are burning the edge of my vision.

I can feel the way they crowd and jumble, the way their fingers are pulling sticky fingers against my sanity and dragging me further and further into the rabbit hole of my insecurity. I can see them in the shadows at the base of my eyelids and feel their voices in the spaces between my vertebrae. They call me when I'm awake and they scream when I'm asleep and I claw at my face and I pull at my skin, but they burrow deeper and deeper still.

They quiet and stagnate, yet I can feel them in the dust that my feet unsettle as I walk forward. Their faces are persistent and their mouths gaping open with the scent of decay bound like a cord around their flapping tongues. They are silent and knowing, touching my inner demons with a violating hand. they nod, they smile; they are smug. I hate them for this. They see the way my heart quivers in my chest and they stroke the trembling bones that it clacks against. They crack the silence and whisper, tell me of sweaty nights and whispered words of passion. They tell me of possessive fingers and pleading hips, and murmured words of forever in the arch where throat kisses sloping shoulder. They tell me of how stars burned for them like midnight oil, how passion arched over arched spines and the way they made pulses thicken and slow. how desires that deep may sail where they please, but always return to where they anchored first.

They tell me that nothing lasts forever except yesterday.

And this is when I run, and scramble, and fall to scraped-up knees and yet do not stop. This is when I dive into vehicle entrenched in dust and spin rubber against asphalt. The ghosts, they pound against my windows and they scream in time with the wind. My pulse hammers and the wheel leaps in my hand. My palms are slick with fear, my back drenched with doubt. I break my mirrors, I blow my speakers, I run from them, but I am nothing but a moth in a hurricane; passing headlights look like fallen stars. I am entranced by their light. Death looks like constellations hovering above the two-lane highway. They are in my lane, I am in theirs. Ghosts are whipping around my fenders and seeping under my hood. They are screaming, but it's my throat that is raw.

[falling stars taste like metal on my tongue; passing galaxies feel like shattered shrapnel in my chest. i am laying on the asphalt next to my burning car and the chipped-paint meteorite. they are touching my cheek, my hand, the hole gaping by my sternum, they are brushing matted hair from my face. i can see their mouths moving, i can see their eyes rolling back into their heads, i can see their bones jutting through their flesh. i see the whites of their eyes and the past replayed in static. i see projections that i cannot outrun in the chapped skin of their lips. i am screaming; i can't stop screaming.]

And I'll wait.. with or without you.

See the stone set in your eyes
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you

Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you

With or without you
With or without you 

Sometimes, it is like I am silent and I am just trying to find my voice. It's like praying in an empty room and choking on the echoes, like singing underwater and trying to untangle myself in the ripples. Most of all - oh, most of all - it is like finding a truth that I just can't understand. A truth that wakes with the first morning light, stretches with the dawn. a truth that is part of the earth and yet not of it - one of stars and constellations.

It is the truth that I don't fully understand and yet try to capture in the words that have long since left me. It is the truth that lights these dusty fingers and places a candle in this hallowed cave. The truth of beauty in a world of pain - of grace where only pain and suffering has been found. It is truth but not sense - truth but not understanding.

You see, because sometimes loving you is like running too fast or falling too hard. Sometimes, it is like being lost at night or waking up and not knowing where you are. It's like losing your balance and tumbling and yet feeling completely secure. It's a feeling of home and yet invigorating adventure. The wrong somehow feeling completely right.

I don't have a map, but I don't mind being lost. I am screaming in the tornado and marveling at the sound. I am praying against the curve of your shoulder and listening to you sleep. I am watching you laugh and carving the sound in the back of my mind. It is beautiful in it's mess - it is wonderful in it's impossibility. 



Somehow I hope you would see this and maybe just maybe one day you will understand.
And I'll wait.. 
I'll wait..
With or without you..
With, or without you. 

Mahpiohanzia

n. the disappointment of being unable to fly, unable to stretch out your arms and vault into the air, having finally shrugged off the ballast of your own weight and ignited the fuel tank of unfulfilled desires you’ve been storing up since before you were born.

It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad.

Something always brings me back to you. It never takes too long..

Something always brings me back to you
It never takes too long
No matter what I say or do, I still feel you here 'till the moment I'm gone
You hold me without touch
You keep me without chains
I never wanted anything so much than to drown in your love and not feel your reign
I live here on my knees as I try to make you see
That you're everything I think I need here on the ground

But you're neither friend nor foe
Though I can't seem to let you go
The one thing that I still know is that you're keeping me down
You're keeping me down..

Let me tell you a story. Let me paint you a picture.
It’s dark and I’m alone and the wind is howling and once upon a time, I might have made this sound poetic. But you won’t know. I know that. I paid the price and life paid me. Whatever I once had is gone and it’s been replaced with this shaking emptiness. I can no longer get drunk. I just get sad. I sit at broken pianos and think about the music they used to make, like the words I used to cry. I hold empty bottles to my fractured ribs and wish that the heat would inspire more than sorrow. Wish I could stumble back into the stumbling incoherency and find my voice in the tornado of silence. But I don’t. I can’t. Instead I just sit there quietly.  

The Serpents Song.

As the light across the room flickers
It's dying song waiting for a
Reason to keep going on
The sweetest wine has now turned bitter
By these thoughts
So I wonder

I should have known
All along the love without tears
Just a story told to keep us hanging on
In the cold all along baby in fear I'd sing
Love without tears 

A Ghost reside in here
A boy who can't let go
Or take no for an answer
I read the words on torn down walls
Reminding me how much I loved you

Heard the silent siren’s song
A moment of calm before the storm
My heart so violently beats along
Leading me to want to end it all

AMOR CTPACTb 信念 RÊVES

It's nights like this that make me wish I could gnash mountains between my teeth and drain the stars from the sky. It's nights like this that leave my limbs cold and my hands crackling so I'm on the floor trying to pick up all the pieces littered in the corners. Theoretically, if I decompose, I'll find a way to compose myself before morning, but such a composition would never be music to the bleeding composite tongue binding around me.

I am asleep in my wakefulness and my feet swing to touch cool floorboards, I am walking the blueprint of my house in limbo. I touch the reality of granite counter and leather couch and leave nothing behind but the oil of my fingers. I reach the door and slide it. I reach the lawn and sink sole into dew-licked blades. You are not here, yet you are everywhere. I am a compass and I cannot find north. My arrow is continually spinning and I am dizzy. I look upwards and I am blinded, I yearn, I ache, I hold my ribs with my palms, but I can feel the pressure swelling them outwards.

Floating.

I am floating in space surrounded by stars, and by air, and by you in between. We cannot touch, but we are lying on a cotton bed side-by-side. I feel you, but my hands are empty. I see you, but my pupils are white. You whisper my name, and my heart bleeds out my ears. I curl into myself like a dying bud. My heart bruises my chest from beating so loudly. Can you hear the violent thrumming? I tremble with each strike against the gong. I fear losing what I cannot hold. Distance spreads my ribs so each fraying breath brings blood to cake between my teeth. I ask, even though I bleed. Turn your cheek to the ivy-and-lace hearts vying for your golden eye, tell me you prefer the mottled inkstain of mine.

Discipline.

Sometimes discipline means:

• acting cold
• playing cool
• holding my breath
• holding my tongue
• avoiding your face
• seeking Your face
• being completely honest
• being thoroughly judicious
• waking early to stir the silence
• sleeping early to still the seething
• refraining from long showers lest the mind start thinking
• abstaining from mellow music lest the mind start reminiscing
• convincing the brain to overcome the heart
• convincing the heart to override the brain
• surrendering good things hoped for
• fighting for everything impossible
• enduring hours of loneliness
• savoring minutes of solitude
• looking up not around
• looking in not down

This time discipline means all of the above.