The Angel Wears a Gas Mask.

I’m going mad, I’m going mad, love. There’s something scratching beneath my skin, and I have no cure. My grandmother used to tell me that to call a monster by its name would save me, but I have no name to call this one, nothing to tame it by. This madness has no name, but its face has always looked a little too much like yours. It’s lethal, and it’ll end me. Don’t ask me how I know, I’ve seen the angel in the corner of my eye put on a gas mask. Everyone around me is weary, as if they are tired of trying to not catch a disease they have no knowledge of, except their minds can join the dots to a danger they can’t consciously be aware of. I don’t know enough words to scream this is me, the disease is me. You can’t catch what is braided into my DNA. This madness only comes once but it kills everyday. I don’t know how long a corpse can pretend to be alive for.


Image credits.

Old Times’ Sake.

If you must act so insolently

Just because my blue skies

Are now grey thunderstorms

You cannot bear the sound of,

Please continue,

Only remember that even today,

If you were to hand me a cup of poison,

I would gladly drink it for old times’ sake.


Painting: “Sophonisba Receiving the Poisoned Cup” by Rembrandt.

Handle With Care?

I’m scared, I’m scared and I’m confused and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who we are anymore, I don’t know who I am anymore. My bruised knuckles feel foreign and so does the faint beat in my chest that rises to a crescendo at times, I’m losing my touch with reality again. The days drag on and they intertwine with nights like two lovers on a Saturday morning, impossible to tell apart. The thunder feels too loud to my fragile ears, and sunshine too bright to my eyes; the only thing constant in all this is the peace rain brings.

A lulling,

torturing,

unattainable peace,

because the chaos inside is too wild to be contained.

Oh, if only you could feel what I do, you’d treat me with a lot more care, my dear.

Please.

Please don’t let me fight all my demons,

Alone,

And please do not try to fight all your demons,

Alone,

Because neither of us is strong enough to

Survive the fight,

I swear I can’t take anymore

Sleepless nights.

Can’t you see, I’m already

Falling apart?

Only a day without you and

It’s breaking my heart.

The Search For Madness.

“It was a hot summer night, right in the middle of July, the day I decided to run away.
I’d had enough, you know? Didn’t want to be pushed around by anyone anymore.
I knew what I wanted in life, I knew I was different, and I was ready to go satiate my wanderlust, find my destiny.
And what was that?
It was to look for madness.
Pure madness.
The kind that is untouched by greed and untainted by grief.
The kind of madness that is alluring and heartbreaking at the same time, the madness that exists in the stars and in the stargazers, in the moon and it’s worshipers, the kind that only increases with the coming dawn, fueled by the golden of the morning.
The madness of the waves as they reach out to kiss the shore over and over again, of the ocean as it tries to caress the moon in vain.
Sweet madness, filled with melancholy.
I thought I had it all figured out, how I’d catch the morning bus out of that sleepy old town, off to big cities and adventures in the pursuit of madness. But the stars has their own plan for me, because sitting in the long green grass of the park I had played in all my life, I found you.
Eyes closed but facing upwards, you were the definition of peace; you looked as if you were a part of the grass and flowers itself, rooted to the ground and so, so still, but then you opened your eyes and I fell headfirst into their grey chaos. Your expression held such agony, it clenched at my heart, and yet I was mesmerized, enchanted, cursed, unable to look away.
That night, I went looking for madness and found it.
But what I didn’t realize was that madness could ever be so beautiful, so dangerous, that madness could ever be you.”


Image taken from here.

 

 

An Ongoing Roller-coaster.

Little do you know
How I adore you
Until you turn cold
And all my affections,
Drowned in melancholy
Disappear,
Until you talk to me again,
And I’m a pathetic babbling fool;
Love struck,
With my awful jokes
And unbearable puns,
Unable to gain control
Over these pesky emotions.

And little do you know
How absolutely I despise you,
Until you talk to me again,
And all the loathing,
Washed away with euphoria
Disappears,
Until the next time you’re cold,
And I’m a pathetic babbling fool,
Crying my eyes out;
Hating myself,
For not being stronger,
Despising you,
For being your cold self.

And then I am
All run out of steam,
Emotionless
All at once,
All you are
Is but, a muse
And I, a writer,
On a mission;
To show the world
What I see.

An ongoing roller coaster,
A never-ending ride,
Of high and lows
And repeating loops.
I, for one,
Never had much patience
With either,
So I wonder how long
Before I decide
To end this ride
Before I can
Take no more.

Sweet Oblivion.

Kiss the bullet, load the gun,
Shot to the head, looks like I’m done.
Crimson splatters the wall behind,
A final torture as the memories rewind.
I see me, I see you,
I see how it all started too,
The abrupt end to a fairy tale,
The moment right when we hit the rail,
I was naive, to believe we would last,
Ever more naive, to think I had your heart,
We lost touch, you kept me at bay,
For my folly, I had to pay,
Haunted by ghosts, day and night,
I slept in hopes of ending my plight,
Only, that you plagued my dreams too,
You pushed me off sanity, into madness blue.
My demons all awoke, hungrier than ever,
They grew up strong, fed by my despair,
But today I’d had enough, I took back control,
Pulling the trigger, I let the memories roll,
Till the reel had run out with a last explosion,
And I lost myself in sweet oblivion.