Ashes

Photo Credit: http://afterthesmoke.tumblr.com/

 

I feel the press
Of your keys
Leaving bruises on my skin
As you type the words
That flit across my screen,
Dripping poison
That eats away at my flesh.

I wear the spit
From your lips –
Soaking my wounds
As you scream the words
That slam into my head,
Crushing my sanity and
Creating voids in my brain.

I taste the fury
Of your lies
Coating my lungs with ash
As you whisper sweet-nothings
That tear at my soul,
Flooding my heart
In seas of unshed tears.

Porcelain Doll

Photo Credit: axlvaldez on deviantart

There you sit with your porcelain skin,

Mocking me with stolen beauty,

Soundlessly witnessing the macabre scene

From your lofty perch.

 

I want so much to make you like me –

To mar your perfect flesh

With crisscrossed scars;

To shorn your hair

And paint your lips

A fiery red.

 

But I can’t.

 

I won’t.

 

So, you just sit there with your glassy eyes,

And watch me slip into this

Deep,

Black

Pit;

Neither of us saying a word,

But both silently screaming.

Sloth

Photo Credit: Murderess-of-Shalott

They call it a vacation.

I call it a hiatus

From the fake,

The miserable,

The unbearable moments

That chip away your sanity

With each tick,

Each tock of a clock.

 

They call it time off.

I call it a break

From the sick,

The mundane,

The “did that just happen” seconds

That interrupt your thoughts

With intensity,

With fury and violence.

 

They call it a sabbatical.

I call it intermission

From the world,

The reality,

The everyday struggle of making decisions,

With responsibility,

And choices of the deadly variety.

 

They call it a sin.

I call it peace.