Poetry Attempt: Time and Time Again

I think I finally lost whatever was left of my mind while trying to finish writing this one. 

 

Miscarried

The tread that’s been frayed for years

Has finally withered and severed

With a silent and pathetic 

Snap. 

Dangling precariously 

And eternal above the vacant, shallow 

Avenue of planned death,

I’m now left suffocating lovingly

On all the sickened fumes of

My long-desired car crash. 

All there is left to hear,

Ephemeral scraping sounds

Echoing from the resistance of

Multitudes of blades 

Forging bisected pathways through my flesh -

Time and time again 

It’s all dizzyingly distorted 

The many actions of my past. 

Forcibly observed future

Hemostatical clamps holding together

All past epochs of dejection

Failure

And abandonment 

So I can reliably throw my mind into 

Maelstroms of disappointments 

And personal distortions

As to pinpoint each and every perfect moment 

Where I could have thrown my life away,

Recultivating the isolated landscapes

Of uprooted parking lots 

Littered with the ceaselessly raining 

Twisted bodies of all those

That I’ve continued to drag down 

Far into the synthetic soil,

Loveless bloodstains,

And my maddening grand guignol 

Of hissing, puppetered nihilistic destructions.

I’m still feasting on their dreams,

Their broken faces all unnaturally 

Titled upward - unwantedly mesmerized

By the descending red, hairy face of metal gargoyle gods

Shrieking with laughter 

From new, unfathomable depths of shadowed silence. 

I’ll never awake in time -

To catch the repeated realizations

That used puppet strings

Will always fail to act as gauze,

That my so-called numbered days

Are beginning to stack far too high

Clawing its way through the 

Pointed glass fragmented horizon

Glued together, piece by piece, with

Malformed amputations

And innovated annihilations,

Molasses stream of dead birds flying

Carrying all my metastasized,

Still yet unfamiliar 

Fears. 

Compounding and mutating,

Total imploded collapse,

Chemical balance spun off the edge,

Moving towards the end

All long predetermined and yet

So frustratingly, disappointingly 

Impossible. 

-

Perfect moon-bathed heretic

Grabs hold of my convulsing being 

Issues me an extension of rejection 

Heights of emotion and connection 

Blasted apart, clawed at, gored

Dragged, butchered, and finally 

Left without an explanation

Left without a sound,

Turn their back, drift into sardonic light

As the sickness takes hold; 

Fever spreading outward,

Tentacled grip around severed, stolen genitals,

Fuming silhouettes,

Alchemical signposts

Of all those no longer there,

Ghosting images of the frozen ones

Speckled in shattered windshield glass

And dazzling, mocking lacerations

Leaving me shivering in absence

In the rotten, hazy 

Impenetrable threshold holding between 

Too many changing seasons 

Slipping into mercurial drip-drop

Of lost time. 

The spewing illuminations

Surround the relapsed ritual of the womb,

Snapping their swollen joints,

Weeping out torrents of 

Black mascara 

While piped-in delirium bathes the room,

But nothing successfully

Turns my mind 

Off. 

Anesthesia-soaked rivets 

Driven through the body

Yanking and haphazardly pulling back

As pneumatic suctions

Click on. 

Deafening whir rattling in the 

Irregular surges of bile and 

Blackened amniotic fluids

Inlay in the trauma, worming pain, 

A quivering black sun,

Remember the shared serenity left now unobtainable

And deeply suicidal.

Flashes of her image,

Double-exposed in much-too-clear apparitions 

Filling in the gasping silhouettes

Layering and toppling over the lonesome,

Deplorable dream,

Gleefully demonizing my agony,

My unrequited misery-loving cramps. 

On a clear day,

This is all I can see. 

Accepting the sudden severance;

No remorse, even if she could manage

To open her eyes to 

The filthy room suspended in time, 

Where all her mangled hauntings she can not face

Were all sent upon me

Here where I still sit,

Eviscerated, torn-up, riddled 

With painted claw marks

Tiny teeth indentations,

My skin torn upwards, stretched far past my head,

Exposed and blindly slashing away at myself

As I cradle the undead life

We once shared

That’s still lost somewhere inside of me

Growing forever so I can’t ever forget you

I can’t ever blame you 

I can only love you

Until I lie transformed, and dying, 

Pulled to screaming entrails 

Finally transcending our connection 

That I was so convinced 

Would be my continued salvation. 

RIP 

IT 

OUT. 

-