I was a tied-up faunlet,
His kisses reeking of nightshade and nothings.
"I am not good at this," he shook,
"Don't worry," I said, "I've been here before."
having a meal, waiting for my date to finish school
the plan for tonight is a shy boy, liquor, and (possibly) a kiss.
Coughing up lunar bile in a field of flowers, turned to cancer. This garden-boy has grown up into weeds.
"Don't be sad", they said.
"Thank you," I replied, "I am cured."
✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩
the most severe of tranquilities
and such unrest.
i am ill and somehow, lovelier
as though i have traded my blood for rose-water,
bleeding strawberry milk.
i may name it 'angel syndrome',
but it is merely adulation of suffering.
keep stealing your mama's cigarettes
drinking bootleg liquor
crying yourself to sleep
i am too weary to arrange the flowers,
a quiet boy,
an unmade bed,
and all the tragedy this implies.
some secrets exist only at night-time,
in anaesthetic dreams :
so carefully hidden once morning comes.
(I have started a collection of photos of flowers, entitled 'sad flowers'. There is no purpose to it. Click to see.)
i'll find a scientist to help me
bottle these worlds,
send them off to sea.
it's strange how really, i never know anyone.
everytime they come, they go, too - and i'm filled with such longing,
you'll never come home, no
and i'll never let you in, either.
i have this life and
if i could have it
i would have chosen
from the beginning.
(i hate gay clubs so much... why are you under the impression that because i dance with you for 5 seconds it's okay to suddenly grab my dick?)
il y a, dans nos regards
tendresse et circonspection mêlées.
je l'aimais sombre, je l'aimais clair,
mais jamais je ne pourrai pardonner
cet amour de violence douce.
si seulement je pouvais me contenter d'être jeune et beau.
si seulement je pouvais me perdre dans la simplicité et l'élégance.
unable to say
"i want you"
unable to say, even:
"i am unable".
aching in the metal silence of my dreams
old words re-surface in my slut throat, naming themselves "oblivion","exile", "betrayal" or
cassiel, have you deserted me?
Rule number one - don't blame the monster, blame yourself. Whatever happens, it's your life, you were supposed to be in control and you fucked it up. Snap out of it and grow up. Because clearly, you know how to fix yourself, but you're just lazy.
I used to love this tough love approach, to be made pathetic for my flaws, but now, all it does it make things worse. This week has been hard and it's Tuesday morning. I have little to no interest in anything since last Sunday, other than sleeping, video games, and my artwork. I don't want to do anything.
Emotional and poorly structured, I apologize in advance.
Every guy who could have had something with me, and didn't, ends up regretting it. Every guy who has had something with me also ends up regretting it.
I think I just build people up to expectations about me, and once they find out I'm merely human, despite the way I see things and act, they're disappointed.
what i was given,
and what i have lost.