.i am thinking ofyou at two twenty one inthe morning, always.
x.i can't put her into words;maybe it's becausenone of them are good enoughto match her.
how to be a poet: the basics.kiss all the peopleyou know you shouldn't,solely for the reasonthat they look goodin stanzas. look at your scarslike mothers peer into cradles. then makemore; make yourself intoa symbol for infinity,or at least try,because it never works. patch yourself up. say, "darling, you're okay," while staring at yourself in the mirror with your hairdamp and your lipschapped (refer to stanza one). change. grow. it's what we like to read, isn't it?miss the people in your lifeuntil they leave,and then miss yourselfas well. screw everything up,and then write about itlike it had to happen.try to believe it, ignorethe voice in your head that hissesand groans in your sleep,behind your eyelids."baby, you're a fuck up,you know it know it know it".try to carve the hummingout of your bodyby exit way of your veins. be hospitalized. give in, give up,play along, stop writing. get better. but then you start writi
the King and his moon.i.this is an odeto the King. Wewatched him blowaway like an oceanof black feathers,and our Father mutteredthat he was forgiven, always, truly forgiven. But we all know that nothing gold can stay-- he had togo. It was written. ii.that was when theQueen cut her hair. Again,we watched it fall toher chamber floorin heaps of strunggold. But we already knew that it would haveto go. We already knew that she would go, for itwas written, and it was already forgiven.iii.the Prince grew upwith the memory ofblack shoes and hairlittering the halls ofan empty palace. TheQueen was busy, alwaysbusy, and then she was sick-- and then the Prince put onhis black robes for her, eventhough he always remembered her in shades of red.iiii.on his father's throne,the boy-king realized thatthis was the place that swallowed up his love,and it gave way to war. You know what theysay-- "A heartbrok
for ellie, always.it may be too latebut i want to drop kisses onto yourstomachand tell you that you're beautiful at 3:17 amor pm,i don't really care.
you can't have the world.i never meant to make youhate me; i only wantedyou not tolove me.
xoxo.i have never tasted ashso sweetas when you kissed mewith death on your tongue.
untitled.i.the king fell off his throne. and a womanwith hair the colorof the moon watchedthe blood drain from his face and onto the marble;and she picked at the scarson her palms, turned awaybecause what was one moredead, anyway?ii.they wrapped his bodyin silk and sorrowsand his son watchedwith starry eyes as they set his body on a boatand sent it to the godswith flames giving him leverage.the moon haired girlstopped tormenting her skinin the name of a manwho wore a crown.iii."long live the queen",but they don't knowthat the queen is dead insideand stares at the other half of her bed in dismay because she watched him sinkinto another womanbefore he slipped into himself.
.with the weightof the world onmy shoulders, i lookat the sky andoffer to carry the stars.
Paradoxes in her bonesand she always dismisses herselfand leaves her pupils dilatedlighthouses and forget-me-nots tangled in her chestbut her thoughts shiver more than her dreams.he calls her beautifulas she longs to stick his eyes out with stonesand grasp his aching heart between her handsbut they both know he's already broken.how can they stop when they've never startedshe wishes she could send them reelingwith stalwart syllables and poignant sighseven though she's never made a sound.the storms outside are bitterno sweet rain after dusk to wet her lipsthe winds inside her are quiet, and seethingwith all the words she's never saidand all the promises she's ever broken.
Demon withinA demonWithinTaking controlDestroyingPeople's spiritsScaring peopleAwayMaking her hostFeel painMiseryLonelinessDestroyingHer hopeHer strengthHer will to liveI mustDo somethingI can't lose herI'll help herWhile I still canWe've bothLost enough friendsAlreadyOur demonsScared themAwayShe wantsTo be aloneSo the demonHas no oneTo hurtBut I'll stayShe needs helpThe thingsHer demon doesAre not her faultI know itSo I'll alwaysStand by her sideNo matter what
Insanity Has Firewalls TooI want to set fire toall the voices thatdance their way intomy mind,because my voice is the only one that matters.
.a scalpel fromwrist to elbow-you will not beliving under myskin anymore
scars to saviors.my skin is still taut.but it has beenalmost 6 months now,and i realizethat although scars will not fade,the holes in my heartwill heal.
.she carries more mistakes thanthere are stars, behind hereyesa lifetime ofconstellations,a human supernova
the days when you were a stage.i gulp down steamy trains of airand they tumble down my tunneled throatbefore i spit them up.you are my heroin for escapesinto a maze of fevered blursand overflows. in my heart i made you outto be some sort ofmonster, but you weren't.if anything, you saved mebefore i went and destroyedthe world. i think you would do goodto let me drown in a reservoirpickled with tears. i wouldn'tthink twice of it, but keep your fingerscrossed whenever you visitmy frostbitten waters. you once told methat it is impossibleto love someone who writes.but there is something differentabout "someone who writes"and a writer. because writersdrown much slower, andtend to drag others downwith us.i'll plunder and plunge the world,or maybe i could settle for you.i have reached my critical point.scar my words and keylog into mymind before i combust. i cannot speakwithout a pilgrimage of words on receipts.this is it: thisis the
Hexakosioi Deka HexHexakosioi Deka Hex The greatest story ever told,Was that of a supreme being,Who replaced his wings to horns,His lone golden ring to one million thorns,And the pearly gates of Elysium,To a beastly asylum, as he now grips a flame-engulfed pitchfork.With the ferocity of Leviathan,He controls this domain with a blood red fist.And this unexpected twistLeft the place of purity coiled around itself.He rebelled against the clouds’ undiluted shine,To lead others into His own light…This fallen angel wants to imprint souls with His hex.And entrap them in the infinite inferno.
You used to be my melody.I hummed you throughout the day, you were my favourite song.I memorised all the words, even used to sing along.You used to be my melody, now you're just my noise.Your tune brought me comfort, now it annoys and destroys.I can't seem to drown you out, no matter how soft you sound.I hear you more often than I'd like, some nights I feel you're around.You were something to remember, a beautiful little tune.I just hope to hear a sweet melody, that surpasses yours soon.Your song makes me sad, I don't want to hear it again.It hurts to hear it unwillingly, it brings back all of the pain.I have my own harmony, a haunting song in my head.With all my thoughts as lyrics, the words I never said. © Rocio Belinda Mendez
.grievingmother,a full moon;fit to burstwith silvermilk,weeping
Training?Training Is For Dogs,Human Needs Teaching.
just you.there's a sharp whisper in my earlisting all my imperfections, crooning.there's a scab on my heart thatwon't go away. it doesn't hurt, butthe scar will always remain.then there's you,telling me you love everything ihate about myself.and all i want to dois listen to just you.
EyelessIf God is watchingI beg of Him, look awayThis once, let me hide
.she wants to taste the moonbetween forefinger and thumb sheplucks it from the sky, and likesome great pearly gobstopperrolls it over her tongue,licks the dust from herlips,shuts her eyesand smiles
sharpthe hollows in his eyes andthe rise in his cheekbonesechoed the very highs and lowsof everything else in my lifeand the slivers of gold in thoseuncertain eyespierced deeplyinto everything i knewit's like the way we're falling apartwas meant to bejust like the way we accidentallyfell down the rabbit hole togetheri can't explain why my heart isstill sore and my soul raw,but how can you go back to lifein black and whitewhen you've seen colours soloud and alive?he's the second chance i don't know howto takeand the sound i can only whisperbut he is the heartbeat that drivesme forward and the sins that slam medownwe are the product of two naturaldisastersrunning into each other head onwe are headstrong because we arenot heart-strongthere's no taking backthe mistakes we made witheach other because someoneelse hurt usand the fears we don't facebecause we don't wantto loseand there's no such thingas changing historyto prevent the painthis is the sto
curiouser and curiouserseventeen years &still chasing white rabbits,it's no wonder i've neverbeen in love.we're all mad here;no one can find the road toyesterday.(i don't knowwhere to go)let's fall down a hole.(i'm just a chrysaliswith no butterfly wings)off with my head when itcan only imagine nonsense& clockwork hearts.give me a cheshire's smile-i want to knowwhat it feels liketo be in wonderland.
a poem on the inner workings of my chaotic mindit isn't like i'mlazy or anything it's just thatthe thought of getting lostin a crowd of ten or more peoplemakes me want to puke.this is not just somestupid little hang-up that you canjoke about when i'mdigging my fingernails into my palm sohard that blood is drawn as we walk throughschool hallways so packed that it feelslike we're suffocating from too muchoxygen but i just grit my teeth andlaugh "yeah, i know, i just don't likebeing around people sometimes."but you know,there's just something about the waymy mother says "go out and have a lifeand stop looking like the worldbetrays you every day"that makes my stomach dropor when my dad looks at me and justsighs, like they've finally realizedi was never good enough to betheir daughter.and to everyone who believes thati just need to relax,to just calm down and think:fuck you. fuck you for trying to pretendlike you know how it feels when mybones grind together like brokengears as i walk by people who mayor
constellations, ambitions, and things in betweeninstead of poetry,i want to live inthe stars;nestled betweendraco & orion,wrapped in nebulae.oxygen is toosuffocating. iwant to breathe ingalaxies.neither the godsnor my demons canstop me —i will make the universemy own.
biting my nails is almost better.i have this habitof missing the peoplethat are still in my lifeand loving the oneswho i will never meet,and the placesi fear i will not go.