"Opening of the veins"- my story
Chapter one- Daddy come back
six years of age, with a father laying upon spinal chords
of wine dripped floor steps, falling from thought itself
acid lashing the skin from stomach linings, & revealing
nothing more than suicidal tear drops with a volume
percentage; walks in the park, was more like stumbles in
the dark, feet clashing together like a heated romance
but the dance, suddenly felt its demise as the only view
in sight, was from kamikaze lightening in drunken skies
Home is where the protection resides solely in a bottle
and safety lays with a cork screw in the brain cells
a stench of loneliness so strong lovers would feel
a sudden urge to drive a knife into their loved ones
heart; ash trays become irony, for even at a young
age, you know, THAT is his 'destiny' if you will.
Humble only when sleeping, yet sweet dreams
were more like bitter tasting bolts of electricity
scorching the skin of the tongue, and speaking
to the throat the words that can make a mute...
scream! but do they know? that is the question
that burns hearts alive, that creates such a feeling
of hate, that love, yes love! hides in shadows
ducking under apple trees trying to escape
what the orchards have done to your daddy
Cider: twisting the livers, making it look like
a slow moving dance with un ironed shirts
tornados smoke, crushing the homing of
the lungs, breathing with a high pitched fork
stuck in the apple, like computers rushing
to find a connection with life, yet finding
nothing but a default known as human nature.
Chapter two: Grandma blues
eleven years of age, renders the phone call
that spins chairs out of position as you sit
in a cold, dark, pit of avenged tears, dripping
the iris's into a mere mascara like line that
points, directly to the heart stings, forcing your
body to grace the ground with the knees
attention, scaring finger tips with a slice of
cake, that birthdays care not to celebrate for
fishing in the lakes that you create to find a
tear that may one day be your best friend
and no longer drain your body of water
i remembers the words that my mother spoke
as she walked out of a collapsed home
where the memories of being a child relapsed
an unpacked sad songs "she's gone to a better place"
My heart failed, as hers did, yet i still felt
the soft touch that breath can only
translate as 'life' it's written in stone covered
hearts, that death, is merely the beginning
yet how could i believe that?
with a corpse i once viewed as life in the
very purest of forms, laughter did not
stream out of her waterless mouth
neither did words sail out of her
sea of teeth, still with the wind
"ashes to ashes dust to dust"
Chapter three: My own death (inside)
sixteen years of age, depression takes a bath in
my blood stream, rages through my insecurities
and airing them to the surface of a dry waste land
Delegating itself as almost a father figure
not that it would have been a surprise!
Venom seeping through the cracks of the
picture frames, sliding on icy white lies
digging until it finds the dirt that souls bury deep
in caves with no entrance; forcefully raping the
very entity people call 'sane'
whilst doctors try to help, with white coats like their
brittle tar filled teeth, smiling with the same
animosity we all share, together as one he
talks with my mind, pushing medicine into
the brain cells, in hope that its mission to
defeat me would be aborted like child of
god that is force fed oxygen until, it ends.
Weeks, months, pass by, no change
if anything the blood stains on the
sheets only cry for a closer love affair
kissing razor blades with lips that crawl
towards the darker shades of red
& breath only as a warning the maybe
oxygen is not as beautiful as they tell us
Pills altering thought patterns like
stitches out of place, taring into the
clothe robes that create warmth of heart
and replaced only with a dead sun beam
as the curtains close for another moment
in time; "death is only the beginning"
-Poeta
Writers note; I made it through all that, which i'm pretty proud of, especially making it through the last one, that was literally like hell on earth. But i guess this is not so much a note about myself, this is more a note in a possative way to people who have and have problems that get them down... there is ALWAYS a way out, you just have to be strong and face the storm people. i have love for anyone who is going through hard time, and if you're reading this and can relate, i hope with all my heart you succeed in YOUR mission to get back to the possaive.
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