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Diseased.I can't think. Something is wrong with my insides. I can feel the twist of intestines strangling my stomach.
It hurts like cancer, like leprosy. Gang-green in my gullet, chemical burns in my bones.
and it's in me
it is me
memories like lava
acidic liquids cauterizing life
Goodbye Means I Love You“How can you be so obtuse?”
Jessica’s eyes look crinkled, contemplative.
Slowly her expression softens, confusion creasing into her facial features.
“What happened to you?”
And I’m silent, staring back at her, blank-faced and stone-still.
Why should I explain it? Why even bother to say sorry? I wouldn’t mean it anyway.
“We need you, ya’ know. The both of us do.”
And for a second I stutter, faltering in resolve.
“You’re the strong one, the practical one. What are we supposed to do without you?”
For a moment I remain undecided, entertaining the thought of giving up,
staying here with my family and friends.
“Jess…you know I can’t. You’ve known for quite some time.”</i>
I pronounce each syllable with intention, trying to force understanding into he
Love and Long DistanceEven if it was me, somehow I feel it wouldn’t be enough. Still… always.
How could I say it?
I could never be
What you want me to
You’d pull me under
Just to save yourself…
So hey, guess what? You’re still not here.
Not that it bothers me.
Not that I believe you’d actually tell the truth anyway.
I am a toy, hardly worth playin’ with.
Too far away, always
And sometimes I feel that you love me,
And and and it is stabbing
because how could I doubt you?
the beauty of an immaculate nightmarei.
I remember the warmth, how it whispered across my skin like an enigma.
A shy silence, a fluttering murmur.
I remember the electricity, static butterflies sparking in my stomach.
An energy quivering, vibrating my organs.
There’s chalk in my skull
I am streaming
whimsical tufts of white
I remember something in the water
like cotton or oxygen
frothing bubbles of fabric
She seemed to prefer clean sheets
sleeping on sterile satin
silken and garish
Still I yearned to look past
the ammonia and immaculate mattress
wanting to love her for who she was
to forget all that she had done.
Googily-eyed pacifist, straining
Always the chopping, butchered
then glued back together.
Almost cruel. Almost.
I Hate FacebookAnd to be quite frank, you make me sick.
And I can’t do it. I can’t do it anymore.
Sit and sift through their lives.
Preening and polished.
And I think I hate them.
Or maybe it’s myself I hate.
The lack of supposed importance.
The lack of substantial proof. I was there, I was happy.
And sometimes we are alive even when we are dead.
Tidbits of time caught on film.
Faces trapped in photographs.
Something. I was someone.
SimpleLife with you; And I remember the snow globe of the sky at midnight
How the stars looked like fireflies caught in cellophane
Obsidian pigments pulling them to space.
I can no longer remember the last time I was here.
I grasp at the wild lupine; an estranged softness grasped betwixt my fingers.
And I’ll miss you, even when I can no longer remember your name.
Because you are special in all the ways that wildflowers are not.
Smoker's EpiphanySlipping through a puff of smoke
exaggerated wisps slipping through my subconscious
and I am emptier than before, less than I was
something subtle and hearty
smoothened and soothing
it's almost relief
Seeing Red AgainShe kept saying something about cardinals, yammering on while I continued to study the swaying cattails, watching sunlight and wind smear through the reeds. I heard her mumbling something about beauty and youth and color but I couldn't quite hear her. I was captivated by a flaming sunset, observing the fire trickle through rippled lake water. Seeing for the first time an effervescent inferno dancing on ever-distant hills. I yearned for heat.
She told me of blood: moist, hissing, exquisite.
She said it was fire; a delectable, searing ecstasy.
"It feels like roses, maraschino cherries, iron scalding across your tongue."
Head down, shoulders slumped. She glared through a veil of strawberry blonde hair, delicate freckles glimmering beneath the sheen. She then noticed me standing beside her, holding a razor and smoking a Marlboro Red. She scrutinized my perfection, glowering at the silken ivory softening my features, at the sable tendrils spooling over my shoulders
The Nectars of Irony and Self-PreservationInverted influx
I have not the strength to care.
Your eyes were shark skin
greasy, greasy tears.
Honesty was always optional
but I couldn't quite grasp it
why someone would say
the exact opposite
of what they really mean.
Then I thought of irony and of you
and that grin
that isn't really even a grin
it's a snicker.
The sweetness of enjoying your own joke.
DevilDevils never cry
Enjoying their evil deeds
Vandalizing your soul
Ignoring your pleas and
Laughing at your suffering
Immortal painLook into my heart, where sins are stacked
Burning alive, it's turning black
Desperate, the knife cuts deeper
But no amount of blood is enough for the Reaper
Others see a heart so cold
But it's an inferno tormenting my soul
Shoots pillars of fire through my chest
Never allows me to rest
Prince of evil, Satan's son
Most trusted friend holding the gun
Bullet flies through my brain
But I regenerate again
Left alone, here I lie
Could you not live and let me die?
Set me free, give me the gun
Make someone else your Chosen One
Desperate, the knife cuts deeper
But no amount of blood is enough for the Reaper
Broken ToyNever will i forget that day
Your innocent eyes began to decay
Your corpse still beautiful and blue
Your silent brilliance as my hatred grew
All stars aligned
And scars refined
Designed to serve a greater cause
All flaws, false accusations made
We're angels in our death parade
Sister, Sister hear me cry
And the screams of the fillies I've sucked dry
We once were mighty and bright as the sky
But then, oh the horror.. your final sigh
Now i sit here in a shattered room
As countless victims who met their doom
Lay around me, incarnation of gloom
Assume, you will come back one day
Dismay, I am but a broken toy
Now say, am I still your little boy?
...Blue little pegasus, your coat looks so pale...
...almost as if you've seen a ghost..
PainWhat do you do when you're alone?
When you sit in your room and contemplate how to survive without the touch or kind words of someone.
What can make all this pain go away?
By my art tools, I spot some blades.
I sit on my floor and pretend all the blades have names and emotions.
I play with them like a child with new toys.
Each blade; made for a different sensation of the skin.
Each blade I named for a different level of feelings.
Bitterness, Melancholy, Anger, Frustration, and Hopelessness
To you, they're just blades but to me they are my comfort
Its sick, I know it
Its wrong, I know it
Its morbid, I know it
but the feeling is so indistinguishable
So I pick up my Bitter friend and bury the hatred deep in my skin using the sharpest edge
Then I pick up my Melancholy friend and comfort it with blood that pours out of my skin once I've broken it; using its help
After that, I pick up my friend; Anger. Together we soothe each others unresolved feelings using the sound of skin bre
Devilish LoveDevilish Love
Poem By Michaela Seabrooke.
He kissed me.
It was sweet and short.
But contained a malice.
The twist of a tongue.
The rip of a shirt.
All contains something sinister.
A darkness in those blue eyes.
Like the dark clouds of a storm.
Piercing my soul.
With your devilish ways.
I don't love you.
I can't love you.
Because you are not real.
You are a figment of my imagination.
A shadow in the dark.
A spirit of the night.
You are not alive.
You are dead, long gone.
You are my own angel.
Coming to rob me of my innocence.
Forever's Endeavor Alas,
what will we do?
When the whole world
and we're still standing;
unable to die
or end our lives.
We've tried and tried,
we rest alone,
We came out of hell
just to haunt
the second one above us.
from one to the other,
from one life
to yet another.
the flames of pain;
holding on by string.
Up and down
the days go by,
as we see the innocent lives
to nothing but a glow,
by a human's eyes.
until the end of time:
there's always one left,
we may never k
Momma's Got a Knife.Momma's Got a Knife
Narrative Poem by: Michaela Seabrooke
Mamma's Got A Knife
And it scares me.
To see her like this.
Wanting to end a life.
The life of papa.
The life of sister.
The life of brother.
And the life of me.
Momma's got a knife.
She seems so scared.
Of the shadows.
She swings the blade.
Like she used to swing me.
On the swing set in the park.
Papa's got a shotgun.
He's screaming and yelling.
Silence sharp as a knife.
He ended her life.
Blood of StormsYou think you know,
You think you have the right answer,
You do so...
But I know...
You will end in disaster,
Let the swords slice through,
Let the bombs explode on you,
And let me watch you suffer!
Lava and magma flows,
Ashes spread and fly,
I will make you fall,
Crush you all,
Tear you limp from limp,
Boil you in acid,
Set you ablaze,
Watch you burn down into flames!
Let your body collapse down to the floor,
You are torn,
Here you scream more,
Hear my powerful roar!
Here I am in control!
Clarity Through Pinhole EyesThis leather-faced beauty, once belonged to me.
Empty-headed nostalgia stained to consciousness. Watch the concrete-chunk agony leak through pin pricked eyelids.
Still she cannot feel it.
Thirsty fingers reaching through the wax rib-flesh. A quiet pleading; smoke curling through the eardrum. Voices taunting
t h o s e h a n d s
To mutilate the most tender, fragile muscle.
Oh and it burns
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