129 lines
3.1 KiB
Plaintext
129 lines
3.1 KiB
Plaintext
|
reakirante
|
||
|
|
2016-07-01/05
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
***
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
one
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I'm a little bit lost without you
|
||
|
|
eyes replaced by flowers
|
||
|
|
growing and spreading all over my face
|
||
|
|
these roses blush harder than I do
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
If love were a place
|
||
|
|
all I'd be able to do is leave
|
||
|
|
it's a fleeting feeling
|
||
|
|
this beating in my chest
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
sea foam runs in my veins
|
||
|
|
I speak the language of waves
|
||
|
|
and my feet drift along the beach shore
|
||
|
|
guided by ghosts whispering in the ocean spray
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
maybe I am a machine
|
||
|
|
and I'm malfunctioning from the moisture
|
||
|
|
got some "genderfluid" in my heart
|
||
|
|
and some "androgyne" in my gears
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
two
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
I'd rather be hurt by the truth
|
||
|
|
than laid softly into a bed of lies
|
||
|
|
falsities brushing against my forehead like falsities
|
||
|
|
whispering trivialities that later crumple
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
the dandelions hanging above my bed
|
||
|
|
are not taking preservation well
|
||
|
|
they just wilt and whimper to be set free
|
||
|
|
from swaying softly in the breeze
|
||
|
|
flowing through the open window
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
sprites singing in my sleep
|
||
|
|
lead me to believe that I am invincible
|
||
|
|
doing stupid things like cooking bacon with a charger
|
||
|
|
and accidentally electrocuting a cousin
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
a chrysalis cut open
|
||
|
|
is like a rotting caterpillar
|
||
|
|
transformation is rooted in decay
|
||
|
|
and rebuilding on ashes
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
but let's not get too poetic here
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
three
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
dang it
|
||
|
|
I've got glitter in my eyes
|
||
|
|
it makes it tremendously hard to see
|
||
|
|
more distracting than rose-colored glasses
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
in a room full of art
|
||
|
|
I'd still stare at you
|
||
|
|
or I would, if my eyes weren't red and burning
|
||
|
|
you think you're soap, clean and beloved
|
||
|
|
but you're irritating to my sight
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
now I've got a migraine
|
||
|
|
fish dishwashers are insane
|
||
|
|
pulsing behind my eyes
|
||
|
|
and making my brain throb
|
||
|
|
like there's a bomb in my brain about to explode
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
if ghosts are real
|
||
|
|
they're having a real hoot at us now
|
||
|
|
come look at the blind stumbler
|
||
|
|
and his blue boy lover
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
four
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
when I'm right, nobody remembers
|
||
|
|
filed away in the cabinet of life
|
||
|
|
forgotten in a pile of happy moments
|
||
|
|
that should have been sorted and put up for display
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
when I'm wrong, nobody forgets
|
||
|
|
least of all me
|
||
|
|
we've all got to remember the cringeworthy girl from seventh grade
|
||
|
|
look, she still haunts the halls now
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
entropy
|
||
|
|
it will be the downfall of the universe
|
||
|
|
but you'll be the downfall of me
|
||
|
|
watching as I tumble down the mountain of fame
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
so when I go down
|
||
|
|
please don't whip out your phone and record me
|
||
|
|
I understand that it'll make a quick buck in ad revenue
|
||
|
|
but my insanity shouldn't be framed by a bleach commercial
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
five
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
the house has been feeling so cold recently
|
||
|
|
I don't know if it's because of your touch
|
||
|
|
your hand rests on the table beside mine
|
||
|
|
freezing the already chilled surface
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
maybe it's the summer storms
|
||
|
|
the thunder always rolls in at evening
|
||
|
|
maybe a god is angry that we won't stay apart
|
||
|
|
maybe he's angry at your existence
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
sometimes I wonder how you ended up in my household
|
||
|
|
sprawled across my doorstep with blood in your eyes
|
||
|
|
and a paper crumpled and half stained in your bruised fist
|
||
|
|
a clear sign that you had to fight to live
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
where did you come from, demon?
|
||
|
|
who decided that your services were displeasing?
|
||
|
|
I have a bone to pick with your boss
|
||
|
|
if you can ignite my stone cold heart
|
||
|
|
you can warm any limp green bean of a human
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
***
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|