Another Failed Poem of Melodramatic Vomit.

 No more of this. 

The Blood in the Stars

Spectral orbs of memories

Your seraphim smiles, 

Clouds of tormented tears 

And ghostly fingers finding refuge 

In the fading shadows of my palms

All losing their grip,

Slowly burning up in the firmament

Storms of sorrow knotted around falling deserts

Unspooling the woven thread of thorns

Speared right through my flesh and bones,

Discarded, piled under  

Mountains of multicolored blankets 

Lost in the corners of your cobwebbed room. 

White-out,

Voided nightmares

A lonely, neverending funeral 

Lying at the bottom of our window.

Your Shakespearean name

Once firmly branded onto my withering brain

Loses its softly bruised luster, 

Its revitalizing brilliant glow

That colored my every lost night 

Molded beautifully malformed kewpies 

From my abundance of dust,

But, inevitably, the porcelain slowly cracked away,

Squirming gnats and termites revealed 

Underneath the chipped grimaces and rigid limbs,

Nights hammered into cheap pine boxes

Or crushed into the overlapping heaps of broken injectors

And rejected poetry that I’ll never know

If you kept. 

Everything submits to the painful process

Of slowly fading away. 

Beautiful arcane effigy 

All these emotions 

Insidiously stabbed across my face

Weathered and decimated 

In a slaughtering storm

And gnashing invocations,

Nothing we once created now can stand

Or even leave a palpable trace

Under brutalizing skies 

Bondaging all misting memories

To a festering,

Increasingly insignificant,

Tormenting past. 

You were not alone. 

Even what I want to hold on to,

Bandaged-up gifts of dissected plush dolls

Feeble disorders reaching out to me

From the puddle of rust underneath your bed

All your clockwork appendages

Grafted to my pulsating agony,

Now rots

And drops from above 

Like a plague of rose-colored dead

Overstuffing the cemeteries,

Our morbid, secret domain

Gone. 

-

Four years ago,

I pulled myself out of dreams

Picking up all my spilled entrails,

Watched an invisible series of surgical worms

Stich me back up,

As I raged with overwhelmed, unseen passion

Streaked across the black sludge sky.

My empty eyes scanning your silent, troubled face

We pulled taut the barbed knot

Of carnival caravans and ancient words 

Weaving together our sorely separated stars,

Anemic and ceaselessly bleeding. 

I lost myself

To your blood promise. 

Now I’ll shamefully choose

To slowly peel away my face,

Send the carrion crows to pluck away 

At my glossy, painted eyes,

So as not to see again all the draining light

Vacuumed through your fears

Your indignation, my uncontained lunacy,

Mirroring the frigid, lifeless future 

I unmasked from your obscured reflection

So as not to watch

And endlessly cower,

Clutching my terminal memories of yesterday, 

Underneath the consuming schism,

The scintillating threshold torn apart

Our sewn-together stars 

Hemoragging underneath their frayed, Moonlite gauze, 

Peeled off of each other 

Like a prematurely scabbed wound

As they fall away from each other 

One-by-one,

Weeping and dejected,

Exposing the vacant threshold of carnivorous twilight

In place of the untimely extracted sutures,

Each star once fit for each other, 

Piece-by-piece,

But now only hollowing, lonely reminders 

Of the End of Time. 

I don’t want to lose what little I have left,

The ghosting images 

Memories of dreams double exposed over useless reality

Losing all meaning,

Losing all effect, 

Leaving me unable to determine any more 

What’s real,

What’s felt,

And what’s horrifically misremembered

In the wake of my perpetual fall,

All I can do,

Is submit to the expanding void 

Of withdrawing, of submission 

To the wretched misery

Nonsensically possessing me

While our counterpart stars,

Implode into their grave, lonely emptiness,

And bleed out

Alone

One-by-one.