Disillusionment

hum hum hum. more melancholy crap. to which, i'd rather not display. simply because it gets to the point of complete and utter whininess. if that is a word.

Starlight

effing crap. i write awful poetry when in a star-struck mood. honestly. i cringe. as it always happens when i re-read something that i've written over a year ago. i never cease to embarrass myself, do it? then again, i do make the ass in embarrass pretty obvious.

You were just a(nother) fuck

- gone -

Masochist

With each stroke and touch you annihilate me,
I dissolve into nothingness and gasp for air.
Each caress is like the cold slash of steel,
my heart beating faster in its final throes.
Every time I see your face you deepen my pain,
such sickly sweet masochistic torture I agree to.
For I know that every one of those strokes
are completely and utterly meaningless to you.

Flawed

Spherical glass and gleaming bright,
utterly smooth to catch the sunlight.
You give out that aura of perfection
and completeness of life.
But to step closer, the cracks are seen,
the flawed beauty of you,
refraction of light as it shines through
those many imperfections that you
seek so desperately to hide.

Liquorice

Those clever words you use to ensnare others
will not catch me now.
No, now I have indefinitely learnt
the gaping chasm that your words hide.
I will not fall for those cheap pick up lines,
Ones that would make others blush.
But I have discovered that those words
are mere bursts of sounds
and nothing else.
Nothing, nothing but a mix of random
vowels and consonants.
Like a pack of Allsorts, black liquorice.
Of course.
Black like that heart that you have
and black like that soul that you hide.