Brief Considerations by BloodStainAffiliate, literature
Literature
Brief Considerations
I have briefly considered burning.
Though always smouldering,
there was never quite a flame,
so to speak.
I have always been more
like a dim light,
glaring from a distance.
After lengthy consideration,
it has been decided that the
acrid stench would do me
no favours.
I have grown to accept
that I am no star,
no source of light
for the malcontent.
I am just one small light,
flickering, wavering,
barely existing;
Yet I carry on
and that is good enough
for now.
Work In Progress by BloodStainAffiliate, literature
Literature
Work In Progress
My mouth tastes like powder
and bone dust;
The things you thought
that I would never be.
I am ticking, slowly,
counting down to zero
before I take a breath
and begin again.
I can’t control the snakes
in my chest or the hive
in my brain.
I don’t breathe
the way I used to;
It is laboured
and stilted
and I think that maybe,
just maybe,
I am inhaling my very death.
Your eyes are like a city
filled with pedestrians and over-
grown footpaths;
Schoolboys hopping fences
as soldiers return from war.
There are tales of love
and loss to be found here,
between the Parisien cafés
and Dutch bicycle paths.
Down desolate alleyways
I found you again and again,
buried beneath the ruins
of old monuments;
I hear you sighing as you
rebuild them, piece by piece,
muttering only the word
'if'.
If only you could see this city
and the landscape that surrounds it,
the sprawling vistas and
hidden crawlspaces;
You would know the
heartache of being and
the beauty of living.
You are all that is known
I am filled with static;
Inert and in constant motion,
I am what was and
what will come to be.
I have seen the rise and
fall of cities,
bore the flame that would
devour me whole;
Crushed by you, my Zeus,
I am nought but a
weary Prometheus.
I will make a house
of rock and bone,
lay my head on the ridges
that sigh and expand;
The rib of Adam and the
sin of Eve reside here.
My saviour, stillborn,
is lying in a manger,
and I move ever onwards,
inhaling but not breathing.
Beethoven Was Deaf by BloodStainAffiliate, literature
Literature
Beethoven Was Deaf
Beethoven was deaf. I feel I should remind myself of this each morning.
Through perseverance and love, humanity can overcome any obstacle. Our destruction may only come from ourselves and the wars we wage.
We are both the door and the key to victory.
I saw you leave,
shut the door and
flick off the light,
shrouded in misery
that only you knew.
I felt the weight
of your breath
hanging in the air,
laced with doubt
and unsung worries.
You never told me
about the demons that
dwelled in your chest,
or the monsters that
plagued your dreams.
I would have sat by you,
night after night,
screaming incantations
and loading silver bullets
had I known the
trials you faced.
Now you're gone,
I stare down this
empty hallway,
then flicking off the light,
shut the door behind me.
I could bleed permanence
and virtue,
bear the child
of your assigned God
and weep at your feet,
yet I would still hold no place
in the city you call
'home'.
Were I the harbinger of doom
and destruction,
I would receive fanfares
from the weary
as I enter their
crumbling citadels and burn
the last of their hope.
I am not of your blood,
not of your kin.
I am the facade of the
towers and spires
that crumble beneath
your hatred.
I am not welcome
Brief Considerations by BloodStainAffiliate, literature
Literature
Brief Considerations
I have briefly considered burning.
Though always smouldering,
there was never quite a flame,
so to speak.
I have always been more
like a dim light,
glaring from a distance.
After lengthy consideration,
it has been decided that the
acrid stench would do me
no favours.
I have grown to accept
that I am no star,
no source of light
for the malcontent.
I am just one small light,
flickering, wavering,
barely existing;
Yet I carry on
and that is good enough
for now.
Work In Progress by BloodStainAffiliate, literature
Literature
Work In Progress
My mouth tastes like powder
and bone dust;
The things you thought
that I would never be.
I am ticking, slowly,
counting down to zero
before I take a breath
and begin again.
I can’t control the snakes
in my chest or the hive
in my brain.
I don’t breathe
the way I used to;
It is laboured
and stilted
and I think that maybe,
just maybe,
I am inhaling my very death.
Your eyes are like a city
filled with pedestrians and over-
grown footpaths;
Schoolboys hopping fences
as soldiers return from war.
There are tales of love
and loss to be found here,
between the Parisien cafés
and Dutch bicycle paths.
Down desolate alleyways
I found you again and again,
buried beneath the ruins
of old monuments;
I hear you sighing as you
rebuild them, piece by piece,
muttering only the word
'if'.
If only you could see this city
and the landscape that surrounds it,
the sprawling vistas and
hidden crawlspaces;
You would know the
heartache of being and
the beauty of living.
You are all that is known
I am filled with static;
Inert and in constant motion,
I am what was and
what will come to be.
I have seen the rise and
fall of cities,
bore the flame that would
devour me whole;
Crushed by you, my Zeus,
I am nought but a
weary Prometheus.
I will make a house
of rock and bone,
lay my head on the ridges
that sigh and expand;
The rib of Adam and the
sin of Eve reside here.
My saviour, stillborn,
is lying in a manger,
and I move ever onwards,
inhaling but not breathing.
Beethoven Was Deaf by BloodStainAffiliate, literature
Literature
Beethoven Was Deaf
Beethoven was deaf. I feel I should remind myself of this each morning.
Through perseverance and love, humanity can overcome any obstacle. Our destruction may only come from ourselves and the wars we wage.
We are both the door and the key to victory.
I saw you leave,
shut the door and
flick off the light,
shrouded in misery
that only you knew.
I felt the weight
of your breath
hanging in the air,
laced with doubt
and unsung worries.
You never told me
about the demons that
dwelled in your chest,
or the monsters that
plagued your dreams.
I would have sat by you,
night after night,
screaming incantations
and loading silver bullets
had I known the
trials you faced.
Now you're gone,
I stare down this
empty hallway,
then flicking off the light,
shut the door behind me.
I could bleed permanence
and virtue,
bear the child
of your assigned God
and weep at your feet,
yet I would still hold no place
in the city you call
'home'.
Were I the harbinger of doom
and destruction,
I would receive fanfares
from the weary
as I enter their
crumbling citadels and burn
the last of their hope.
I am not of your blood,
not of your kin.
I am the facade of the
towers and spires
that crumble beneath
your hatred.
I am not welcome
Speaking with you
is like pressing my lips
against a fractured mirror
and exhaling -
Contact has been made,
but it can never endure
the predicted gales
of apathy and despair.
Frequently I find my breath
becoming trapped
in the veins of the looking glass,
forming miniature lakes
on which I imagine us
to be gone fishing
for all eternity.
In truth,
you have left;
Gone fishing and drinking
with the salty old dogs
you keep company with,
while I sit alone
staring at mirrors,
wondering where and how
the first fracture began.
So you're made
of broken birds' wings
and transatlantic fevers;
I'm not a doctor
and you're not easily fixed.
You're shedding scales
and empty promises,
and I'm slowly losing patience;
Piecing you back together
is not my prerogative.
Your bones creak
like ancient doors
and you're becoming unhinged;
I can see right through you,
but the problem is this;
I am made
of matchsticks and glue,
a papiér mâché paradigm
for the broken-hearted.
And you are burning,
much too bright;
If I stand too close,
I know I will be devoured.
So I leave your scales
and broken wings to atrophy,
taking one of each
as a keepsake.
Mass Elimination by BloodStainAffiliate, literature
Literature
Mass Elimination
The sky bleeds tonight,
dousing us in vermilion
as greying clouds slash
through the glowing moon.
We are slicing through the crescent moon,
monochromatic cirri moving mercilessly
and drowning out the moonlight.
I can feel the weight
of a million supernovae
as they fall from their heights
upon our human forms.
We are all exploding,
shining brighter as we
I wrote a new poem. Chime the bells and all that.
I also considered leaving the apartment, even though I don't actually have to.
I mean, I'm not going to leave, but I THOUGHT about it.
Victories.
So, I've been trying to write for months now, but there's nothing. When I'm miserable - and I mean 'I'd prefer to drown myself than be who I am for one more minute' miserable - it still feels like I have nothing to say.
I don't know what to tell you. Sometimes, I feel like I'm just fading away and getting dumber every single day. Maybe one day I'll be the type of person who reads tabloids and watches reality TV, and any semblance of self-awareness I possess will have faded away by then.
My life feels like it's been reduced to nothing. There are no achievements, no victories, no rewards. All I have are panic attacks and re-runs of Frasier, i
How is everyone, first off? It's been a long time since I've posted anything here, for reasons best left unspoken. I'm going to catch up with everyone and everything soon, I hope. Let me know how you've been.
- Alison
Hope is a bit much for now, but the tiniest victories really count at the minute, so I guess that I'm at least giving myself some credit. That's a big change.