a_little_wisp
10-26-2009, 05:13 AM
I Would Not Lie Below.
Did I pour salt into your open wounds?
Let me lick it out—
Heaven, help me, I have gone bad inside;
There are worms wriggling through my arteries,
And moths in the cabinets where love should be kept--
Being raw with you wasn’t always a good thing--
We'd always end up bleeding enough to fill a blood bank.
Once-lover, you are one of my best inspirations
Attached to me or apart from me,
A touch away,
A phone call away,
Nine circles, and
Seven terraces away.
We know best the words with which to wind each other up
And we use them often.
Nothing serious-- just all in good fun, right?
Oh, but I can’t stop this game!
I’m a rotten apple, and you know it too.
(Because it is not, at all,
A game to you.)
I'm not who I usually am when I'm with you;
That is,
You’re the first person I ever wished to be cruel to--
And then I’d cry myself to sleep from guilt after
I examined your mutilated innards--
Red, red, and gushing--
Under a microscope, with a scalpel,
To find the answers I desired most.
(But I tucked you in, didn’t I?
And sang you lullabies?)
“Malevolence.”
There, I said it--
And you thought I didn’t see it for what it was.
Oh, with all my pleas towards the heavens,
We both know I hum the heralds
Of the fallen--
Hell, I wrote the lyrics.
(They're a little rough,
But nothing's perfect down here.)
Our paradise is lost, see?
But there is no wordsmith who could adequately capture
The havoc that is wreaked between two humans
When the quietest rupture of one heart occurs
And eradicates the world which was created between them --
Except, as much as you'd like it to be,
It's not that easy
(And neither am I);
The bacteria and roaches of our Something
Survived,
No--
Thrive--
And now they're mutated.
Sh*t.
All the better!
Let the gods have their Ragnarok and Revelations.
How about I hit you up for a chat tomorrow,
While Yeats' slow beast takes his sweet time,
And we’ll see how much damage we can do to each other's pride,
Until, finally exhausted of laughter,
We’ll picnic in silence
In the concrete park
Where once Eden lay,
Ripe and ready,
Where once Adam slept in Eve’s frail arms
And dreamed of Lilith.
Did I pour salt into your open wounds?
Let me lick it out—
Heaven, help me, I have gone bad inside;
There are worms wriggling through my arteries,
And moths in the cabinets where love should be kept--
Being raw with you wasn’t always a good thing--
We'd always end up bleeding enough to fill a blood bank.
Once-lover, you are one of my best inspirations
Attached to me or apart from me,
A touch away,
A phone call away,
Nine circles, and
Seven terraces away.
We know best the words with which to wind each other up
And we use them often.
Nothing serious-- just all in good fun, right?
Oh, but I can’t stop this game!
I’m a rotten apple, and you know it too.
(Because it is not, at all,
A game to you.)
I'm not who I usually am when I'm with you;
That is,
You’re the first person I ever wished to be cruel to--
And then I’d cry myself to sleep from guilt after
I examined your mutilated innards--
Red, red, and gushing--
Under a microscope, with a scalpel,
To find the answers I desired most.
(But I tucked you in, didn’t I?
And sang you lullabies?)
“Malevolence.”
There, I said it--
And you thought I didn’t see it for what it was.
Oh, with all my pleas towards the heavens,
We both know I hum the heralds
Of the fallen--
Hell, I wrote the lyrics.
(They're a little rough,
But nothing's perfect down here.)
Our paradise is lost, see?
But there is no wordsmith who could adequately capture
The havoc that is wreaked between two humans
When the quietest rupture of one heart occurs
And eradicates the world which was created between them --
Except, as much as you'd like it to be,
It's not that easy
(And neither am I);
The bacteria and roaches of our Something
Survived,
No--
Thrive--
And now they're mutated.
Sh*t.
All the better!
Let the gods have their Ragnarok and Revelations.
How about I hit you up for a chat tomorrow,
While Yeats' slow beast takes his sweet time,
And we’ll see how much damage we can do to each other's pride,
Until, finally exhausted of laughter,
We’ll picnic in silence
In the concrete park
Where once Eden lay,
Ripe and ready,
Where once Adam slept in Eve’s frail arms
And dreamed of Lilith.