in spite.

a little girl discovers sexuality in her stride.
she learns she can make men do anything if she moves just right;
up and down, left and right, side to side,
scream for this 'romance' but it and you will never coincide.
like a plague of paracitics, she'll leech you for life -
turn it back around and you'll watch your inside decay,
under your skin, strip the flesh from your bones away.
destroy your exterior,
her disease has your interior.
no amount of medication can ever take the pain away,
medicate to eradicate, refuse to hesitate, you cannot afford delay.
her parasite grows, lays eggs that hatch in your blood,
contaminate your insides, turn your innereds to mud.
she kills you slowly as you sleep and every moment you wake,
there's so much more than emotional status at stake.
liquidize your nerves, vains and intestines.
how many times will a man walk into what they're destine?

23:11

ne'er an infertile though,
nor an action without meaning.
every moment is holy
and every touch, sacred.
no bruise purple enough,
ne'er content with any 'last' touch.
quiet lines of dialogue whispered,
yet a conversation alive within eyes.
beautiful, amazing,
colourful and breath-taking.
captivated by every movement.
one another's breath stolen by the other
so they can breathe out yours.
full of pain and tears,
holes in walls and in skin.
mended in a second by a single touch or lonesome kiss.
distance cannot matter
because within one another lays.
refuse any approach, they're futile at best.
suffocate at night when they're not by your side
and regret every moment since the relationship died.

this is how i felt and this is how i fell.

cosmic egg, pangu & incest.

besides my usual output of poetry with enough angst to drown a giraffe and metaphorical wrist-slashes to make even the most masochistic self-harm-er cringe, i like to read about shit and things.
the cosmic egg explination is possibly the coolest creation-of-the-universe explination and the chinese have the coolest explination of the creation of the earth too, not that it's factual nor do i believe it but it's just fucking cool -

In the beginning there was nothing in the universe except a formless chaos. However this chaos coalesced into a cosmic egg for about 18,000 years. Within it, the perfectly opposed principles of Yin and Yang became balanced and Pangu emerged (or woke up) from the egg. Pangu is usually depicted as a primitive, hairy giant with horns on his head and clad in furs. Pangu set about the task of creating the world: he separated Yin from Yang with a swing of his giant axe, creating the Earth (murky Yin) and the Sky (clear Yang). To keep them separated, Pangu stood between them and pushed up the Sky. This task took 18,000 years; with each day the sky grew ten feet (3 meters) higher, the Earth ten feet wider, and Pangu ten feet taller. In some versions of the story, Pangu is aided in this task by the four most prominent beasts, namely the Turtle, the Qilin, the Phoenix, and the Dragon.

After the 18,000 years had elapsed, Pangu was laid to rest. His breath became the wind; his voice the thunder; left eye the sun and right eye the moon; his body became the mountains and extremes of the world; his blood formed rivers; his muscles the fertile lands; his facial hair the stars and milky way; his fur the bushes and forests; his bones the valuable minerals; his bone marrows sacred diamonds; his sweat fell as rain; and the fleas on his fur carried by the wind became the fish and animals throughout the land. Nüwa the Goddess then used the mud of the water bed to form the shape of humans. These humans were very smart since they were individually crafted. Nüwa then became bored of individually making every human so she started putting a rope in the water bed and lettings the drops of mud that fell from it become new humans. These small drops became new humans, not as smart as the first.

anyway, since i'm a faggot and i like to increase my psuedo-intellectual premise by reaching bullshit that i will never apply to anything besides my own melancholy and distaste for the universe, we are all related and this is according to science. i don't fuck with science -

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Y_Chromosome_Adam
&
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mitochondrial_Eve

hades pt. 2

lo, the usurper of the throne takes their rightful position again
upon the crushed and disembodied souls that reside now in hades.
the serpents crawl and en lace themselves around the legs of the monarch
brushed off but not by whim, so you spoke but by malice or some other fickle careance.
reptilian solicitors lie by the right hand of the ruler
and the damned visions of lovers past by their left.
burning in agony until death, they start decaying
inside the inferno that was coined within ones chest.
cut in thirds and denied by zues for thier defiances upon the land.
mount olmypus has no room for treacherous souls
nor do the gods have the patience to wait for those forever damned.
hera has denied the over-seer of hades a consort
and poseiden refuses to douse the flames.
the blessing of hestia has long but left the underworld
and you've pushed away any of demeter's virtues.
bound to fall like icarus, trapped in a cycle more painful than sisyphus.
beyond anything homer could ever describe yet more secretive than atalntis.
forever in a period of tantalus that is as painful as any ixion had endured.

ice age.

we kept ourselves warm with words, using them as blankets against the frost,
computer screen lit fires, soft voiced embers and embraces over airwaves.
we swore on our lives to endure the cold, the ice age would end some day
and the eternal spring would cast it's light upon the land once again.
the icebergs melted into an ocean, fresh-water fish carried our whispers
from one side to the other, notes with little hearts - laced with pain.
the clouds above mocked our legs, with their boundless travels, envious.
i wish i could've flown across this waterlogged romance
and rescued us from it's ever expanding wake.
too late was i in my travels, apparently it was far too gone to save.
i took a log from the fire and burnt the letters to your name.
endless nights on hilltops, hearing wolves feasting on prey.
sleepless nights in caves and holes, protecting myself from dismay.
you dug trenches in your skin and handed yourself off to another lover.
whom betrayed you so shortly unlike i did, i still long for your touch again.
no hope and no life left, we're entering the ice age again.
with no more words to sew together, no more fires to light the way.
we froze to death within the tundra, ten thousand miles away.

born to.

little baby boy born to a hateful father,
little baby boy born to a subdued mother.
hide inside your closet son, your father's gonna find you
and if he finds your hidey-hole, he'll beat you through and though.
take your knees to your chest my boy and hold them there,
clasp your hands to your lips my child, recite the lord's prayer.
daddy cannot find you when you're not gasping for air,
play hide and seek for hours, this game is far from fair.

little baby boy born to an alcoholic,
little baby boy born to a melancholic.
drowned in the bathtub and beaten up with bottles,
left to endure starvation and nightly he was throttled.
aunty, uncle, sister - they persecuted you,
run away to london boy, it's the smartest thing to do
they can still harm you, even after beatings stop,
people will always hurt you where ever you choose to drop.

little baby boy born to an untuned guitar,
little baby boy born to a burnt out star.
ten odd years have gone, since your dark and gloomy past,
how the years have past you by, seemingly so fast
and one day you found an angel, someone to hold you close
but you let them go and followed whichever way wind blows.
fragile, scarred and broken, you retreat into your hole,
hiding in the dark again, it's time to stitch up your soul.
hiding all the hurt from the demons of the land
while you're staring at the sunset, wishing someone to take your hand.

little baby girl born to a hateful father,
little baby girl born to a subdued mother.
little baby girl born to an alcoholic,
little baby girl born to a melancholic.
little baby girl born to an untuned guitar,
little baby girl born to a burnt out star.