I’ve been on this website for roughly a year and a half now and finally reached a worthwhile milestone; this is my 1,000th post. I couldn’t think of a better thing to post than this. My personal summer project which conveniently I finished yesterday evening. Amidst writing several passages for my novel, I would often spit out phrases and attempt to mould something out of them, and whilst in the shower in the start of the summer, roughly June, I began to speak and ramble on about a light (Hence the introduction). Following this, I wrote it out onto some paper and progressed to type it up, before adding to it again and again. At night, I would wake up with another phrase or connecting words and note them down to make into sentences come the morning. This went on for three months, until yesterday when I decided to end it, or rather as a famous man once said, “Poems are never finished, simply abandoned”.
So here it is, something really odd and unique from my norm’, but I suppose that’s a good thing and I’m somewhat proud of it for the most part. I left it untitled to gain a sense of unknowing about it, the less expectation or assumption you have about reading it before so, the better. Hopefully, it’ll come across as ambiguous then. I wasn’t sure how to write it and how to present it, so I can only describe it as a piece of verse, written in prose; this way it can either be read like a poem, slow and soft with emphasis, or fast like a train of thought (Which it always was). I’d also like to thank my friend, Mia (@miaholmesx), for the constant support and being the ideas net, forever throwing out phrases at her or forcing her to read updated segments.
I guess it’s pretty personal, it’s really religion heavy (Which was never intentional, I just enjoy to write about it) and it blends in with the thought wave of a misogynistic individual, who I always pictured to look slightly like Sawyer from Lost. It’s also personal because some segments are true, if somewhat altered or diluted, thoughts are genuine, I reference and quote amazing influences along with adding lines from the novel that I’ve wrote and lyrics form my past songs form years ago to ones I’ve recently written. A life I would want to lead? I don’t know. I’ve rambled on for long enough, so if you’re still reading this, then thank you and I hope you enjoy, as I’m aware that the length will probably put off 80% of my followers. Thank you!;
Untitled
It starts with a light…
A spotlight that shines so bright, from the direction of the sun, it’s so high, it showcases my wounds, yet it heals the scars, they close back up as I cover them with silk that I stole from tombs when I was young. So when you ask for a light, I’ll tell you to look up. You’d see stars if we weren’t inside, you’d see God if you weren’t in the dark.
But now I’ve grown old, I need to feel whole, so the dentist is filling and filing my nails in the waiting room of life, the feeling people most claim that depicts life, stale air and waiting in line, whilst they usually end theirs with liquor and a knife.
I take that in my strife and strive for perfection, all I’m left with is to look down at this erection, so I’m to question what’s pure, I know I’m not anymore, I would sleep again with that whore to make sure I’d make it to the top, but I was always on the bottom because I paid her more, to make sure she screamed. The cries and lust still haunt all of my dreams, I see no reason to close my eyes, why should I sleep if she’s not there, I long to pay for her, if only I had the money, I still smell her hair… Why would I need a light when I’m still high on her perfume…
She said I made her sick, but all she spewed out was blood, she couldn’t spit so far, so she drowned in her flood. I picked up her body and sold it for parts, so I could use the money to fuel my arts – They went up my nose, and down my sore throat, and piercing my skin, made me feel like I could float. It tasted like Heaven and smelt so divine, after all of this fighting, perhaps this war will be mine.
After all, love is a battlefield, no harm in one more victim, and with my bottle half empty, I could smash it in two, slice across your stomach, spill your guts out like I once did for you, at least we’ll know that the weapon was sterilised clean. My hands around your neck, is this all a dream?
Would it be mean if I watched you breath in and out, I watched you breath in and out, slower and slower, does that sound familiar? Similar. A heavy heart, as heavy as your sweat, as it drops into a shot glass and have a victory drink, down it in one and smash your head on the bar, give you a glass jaw to match your horse’s smile, sink as your teeth fall to the floor, look back up and see a woman standing at the door, she called me over and said she was a nun, I prayed to God that she wasn’t one. I was going to make her sin, the things we’d do would send her to Hell, but she had a burning love, you had to pop it in a steam bucket after branding that horse from above, let the hot water rise to the Antarctic because she had to cool off, like a chip off the block from the mountain’s peak, with my left hand I cough, and with my right hand, I held that ice cube, that I ran down her chest, in between her breasts and I licked it off just before it began to melt.
As soon as I came I went, I had been there an hour, my watch was broken but the bus was on time a bit of summer back in mine, it was an Autumn year fling, an awesome thing, delicate like a petal, soft was her skin. She bit my lip and tied me up with leaves and vines, bind my wrists, it made me cry. She said “Love hurts”, and I guess that it does, but this was torture and she did it for fun. So she died in the winter, she wilted, the doom, I’d have to wait until Spring again, to see her bloom.
But she needs some water to grow, I’ll wait for the watershed and plug up the sink, leave the tap running and watch it overflow. I thought of this in the bath, I’ll have you know, and now I bathe in it, we’re dirty so I’m not letting you breathe. “The water is fine”, I said, “You need to drink”, so I will hold your head under, you’ll never sink, and you’ll never fall in love, but maybe you’ll drown like your skin, it’s too pale for me, I ordered vanilla but I received cream, this has totally ruined my colour scheme. Fucking Hell. Excuse me, I don’t mean to blaspheme. I just needed to scream, like the women in my photos, in these fucking cream frames, pregnant ladies that could’ve been mine if I hadn’t of slit their throats when I found out about my shame. I said they were to blame, hence the slain, and so I’d dip all my money in, submerge it in their crimson, before I run away to Africa, I hear that my Queens will be good there, buy some diamonds for some girls, give it to them afterwardzzz.
I think there’s a bee in the room, open up another window, it’ll leave soon. Whoops, too late, it got swallowed by a bearded man in the crowd, maybe it liked the hair, that I couldn’t grow; it smelt of ginger, not honey, now I guess that’s funny so I paid the Pied Piper to have the last laugh, whilst I slipped into the shadows and fucked his other half. The best she’d ever had, because I bit her lip, slowly kissed her teeth, whilst my hands went wondering all under the sheets. She buried her head in the pillows, as I turned off the light, took the Piper’s hat as I ran off into the night. I needed a memento of what it felt like to be alive, and the trim seemed to fit, so I sold it to an archive.
There it sat in a museum, the glass cage seemed more attractive than the cap, and his wife for that matter, hanging on a hook above a plaque that read ‘Here belongs the garments of a man that love began to neglect’.
Now I have to sit down, because I can’t stand you. Strap me to this tattoo studio chair. I’m so mad, I’m so angry, my face is red, I can feel my blood boil. Let it set sail down my arteries and flow from my heart, pumping veins that meet with a needle to create some art, so I got an image of Jesus to remind me that he’s always watching, I best give him a show, push her down by her shoulders and expect a blow. “This is part of your diet”, she smiled and it was cute, her dimples like targets as her legs wrapped around, I was tangled in her web so I decided to name her Charlotte. The pleasure was all mine as I declared “God spent a little more time on you”, leant in to give her a kiss, then poof, vamoosche, disappeared into thin air, I was going to miss those legs to be fair, but those hips more, oh, those hips that I adore.
Perhaps I could write a lament, perhaps I could just cry. Louder than the thunder, louder than the storm. Louder now than the lightening as it flashes and strikes with intent to deform. Watch the rain pour, and fill up your grave, bubbling over as it swells like a slave. I guess soon enough that this roof will collapse, it wasn’t built for this weather, but when I see the shower fall through the boards, we can use it all as a structure for an ark, how clever. Sail the land and build a house again, just call me Noah, just call me no one. This is a place where we can all move on and never again care about fear of a loved one.
Until the snow begins to fall, I’m turning blue yet again, I’m in love with lust, shiver, blue, blue skin yet again. Got to find a way to make this feeling last. She’s got her teeth right in, I can feel my skin turn blue, making love to a vampire, something I swore I’d never do. Rose red petals dripping from her pearly whites, I wondered how they were not stained at all, but I was more concerned about the sunlight.
So, let me get this straight, she had me for dinner, it was only right that she cooked me a stew; I thought it was, all the floating eyes and bits of hair, mmm, yum. Taking the table cloth as she set the table and made it into a cape, I fashioned prayer beads around the knot, it seemed like it’d be my only hope to escape. But right then I blacked out!
My eyes open, my pupils dilate, scanning the room, around and about. I find myself between you and a door, at least I know now what I was slapping you for because that’s not eye shadows around your lashes and I don’t want you to leave unless our bodies are done clashing. “You bore the living shit out of me now”, as I adjust my flies and go, another one of life’s lessons about the birds and the bees, or more so who you’ve done and want to do for free. You show me your ‘list’ and say “Don’t tell anyone”, so I in turn tell any-five that I know can make the news spread around town, like a nasty STI or your legs when he pulls your knickers down. I’m sorry, but you are a slut, you just can’t sleep alone. I would be too if I could, but I’m stuck in the friend zone.
Happy birthday to me, oh, it’s that time of year again? So much of a friend you are, you only bought me a card. Us falling out didn’t seem that hard. I found deleting pictures of you easier than I thought. Always cut away the deadwood to pick up speed, the quicker I get to Heaven, the quicker I can feed my greed. Blow out the candles and wish you catch a cold, that evolves into something worse that fills you with dread, you’re crying in your mother’s arms until you grow old, bitches get stitches, I’ll sleep when you’re dead.
Speaking of the deceased, why didn’t Ian Curtis come down from that noose? I wish he did, I need more inspiration now that I’m hanging so loose. I wish he took his rope and tied an arbour knot on his from the dock to his boat, as I saw it drift past me, wrecked in the storm that I mentioned before, need I quote? No, I shouldn’t think so, that should stay in your memory, rest in piece, ‘Shadowplay’, ‘Love Will Tear Us Apart’, as that rope begins to fray.
Comfort the mourning and say “I feel for you” because I want to feel you; a hand up there and a hand down there but it was just too hot to handle, shaking it off as you dropped it and it rolled under the bed for the bogeyman to pick it up, so later he fed. Keep the light on ‘cause you’re scared of being above his head, if he needs another midnight snack, so you moved to the spare room to sleep on a soiled mattress with no frame, just to be safe, it touches the ground, nothing can creep underneath. There are paedophiles in the closet. The one night I’m sleeping alone. Where’s the babysitter (I hear she’s as hot as the cigarette she’d have to smoke after) for this child? I’m ready to snore, find the local choir boy to sing me to sleep; ‘Sing me to sleep, I don’t want to go to bed on my own, anymore’ and don’t let the bed bugs bite, I hear what they leave is sore. Drift off and have sweet dreams, miles away over the ocean, over the sea where there’s a lighthouse for the lost… Or maybe it’s a tree. Lumberjack! We’ll chop it down to remain manly, to keep our senses intact, to keep us sane, if it has electrical problems we’ll say the rats were to blame.
There’s always one that’s scared of the rodents, jumping on top of a stool, the one whose made to feel like the fool whilst they have a satanic panic as I watch and laugh, rub my hands together thinking this is manic. They breed, they swarm, they’re bound to attack, but what’s guarding me? My insecurities? Praying as there never was any innocence here, this place is a church to which I’m a saint, full of lonely isles and empty halls that captivate and hear my evil plans, Lord, don’t fail me now.
Please don’t fall in love with me, that’s the last thing I need. I’m not saying that you’re wasting your time, but I’m just a nobody, not quite a man, I still am searching for my name. I’ll find myself one day, maybe. That’s why this remains ‘Untitled’ like an aborted baby.
Thank you again for reading! Any feedback in some form of media is always greeted with a smile. The question I now have to ask myself is do I show this to my parents?
