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razor-mouthed rants

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

All your stupid friends were wrong,

are wrong,

and will never

grow up

learn the difference between

something real and fake

breathing.

 

How many head boards did it take

to alter her brain

– either way

she hit more than was necessary – 

and you can take that to the bank

though not the bank she would favour.

 

And what mud slinging mattered

on late nights where idiocy is laid bare

and honesty rolls off the tip of the tongue

– which has more uses than she would lead you to believe –

she was never much for talking,

never having much to say.

 

A rant of razors,

dagger words slicing their way to the

core

and what matters.

 

Who are the you in ‘your,’

as if there was a Sherlockian puzzle to solve,

but like Doyle I haven’t laid bare all the required pieces.

 

There is implication,

but it is a falsehood,

because it isn’t about you or who you may think.

 

And who cares?

This song

/ andyveilleux / 1 Comment

Of all the things you pushed on me,
I understood it the least.
I did not have the capability to learn it
Nor you to teach it,
And nothing more must be said of us.
A amethyst on our once-collective mantle
where the fireplace has long ceased to be alive
An oold apartment,
Musty
Sleazy
In the heart of the old world in Sudbury
Is now abandoned of the emotion that once exploded it to so many lives and demises that any sort of count is impossible.

Hollow ppl may reside there with our skeletons
They are puppets in comparison.

Pant hangs onto the walls,
Although for dear life,
From the wars we waged,
With each other, the outside world,
And inside.

There’s a love laid to rest in that casket that has halved my being,
And crippled you.

A puppet walks on,
Clunky and awkward as puppets do,
And the old ghosts stalking are left feeling pity in place of anger.

Luke I am your

/ andyveilleux / 3 Comments

Father,
I’ve become so much like you.
Up at 4:20 AM
making bologna sandwiches.
Where did all the time go?
Sitting around in my joggers and wool socks,
wondering where all my sleep goes,
when I am not partaking in it.
Just a few months ago we were together,
and now all I get is your voice
but I can still see your smile
on the other end,
when I hear
pride in your voice.
At the end of the day,
that’s one of the only things that matters to me.
I remember being young and saying
I would never be like you,
the thought of it was appalling.
Now It’s a badge of honour.
I love you dad,
and you always did right by me,
even when you were wrong.

Is this happiness?

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

 

Another wall,

another dead end.

 

Confronted with it,

all too familiar,

once again.

 

This can't be the limit,

there has to be more.

 

No,

no.

 

No.

 

Not now,

at least,

but maybe not ever.

 

And maybe I'm too late.

 

There's no breaking out of,

a slump like this,

and there's only one end,

despite all the options.

 

There's only one end.

the grounded bird

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

there's a hand

wrapping around

my stomach,

it pulls

endlessly.

 

It wrenches my insides,

my face spreading vomit

across razor-sharp rugs

busy chewing on it.

 

a sinking feeling

dominates

my submissive mind

begging for distractions,

wet with it's legs spread

wide

open,

it never sleeps

alone.

 

there's a broken

moment

stuck on repeat,

drowning in the now

unable to spew enough

to breathe well or often.

shallow breaths,

interrupted,

sustain me.

 

No oxygen licks

my charcoal wings,

a grounded bird of

LEGEND

looking ordinary.

New website, new layout!

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

My dearest readers,
I’ve finished the new website layout, at my new domain (andyveilleux.com)! It’s similar to the old layout, except it lets me have two columns (three including my sidebar) on my site. You’ll notice all the pages (which are currently empty). I plan to populate them with tons of cool stuff in the next few days.
What do you think of the new layout?

Invite down a street with no exit

/ andyveilleux / 4 Comments

You used to inspire me,
but now you’re a wretched spire,
jabbing its way through my pure skies.

The mighty have not fallen,
gently;
smokes, mirrors came down,
in rage.

Do my words remind you,
of the real me,
or the biased memory of me,
since I left you?

It’s an important difference,
we watched our faces change,
into something more beautiful,
and infinitely more terrifying;
we never thought it possible.

Two monsters;
insecure emotions;
a dead-end invitation,
that might never expire.

love of self

/ andyveilleux / 8 Comments

 

Insanity is an interesting follower;

it stalks you like thoughts of death,

or a jealous ex-lover on Facebook,

though less aggressive than the last.

 

There is no rush for death or insanity,

they will visit us all some day,

and when they sink their teeth in,

I imagine it's permanent.

 

Imagine something being permanent,

in this world where even love decays and hollows out,

and eternal is beyond comprehension.

 

Imagine love as it was meant to be,

romantic,

innocent,

unconditional,

we're not strong enough to love,

unless it's a love of self.

 

Look around you,

endless self-promotion,

meaningless back-patting,

and barely any words of meaning;

what do you think this poem is?

 

If we wish to fight against the growing distance,

between us and the people we could love,

we must first battle with ourselves,

and understand our failure.

 

We will look past our too-easily-hurt pride,

our limping-but-still-alive modesty,

or will we just see our powerful egos?

 

Will we change,

for the better?

 

Of course we won't,

but the thought is nice.