broken

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.

a dreamscape reality of broken memories

/ andyveilleux / 4 Comments

It was never about,

not wanting to have

to

change

my plans

or your hopes

and dreams.

I always knew I’d fail,

and you are

a mistake

I never wanted to make.

fingers

triggers

dancing

together.

end of all

somethings,

that started from

nothings.

A sick,

pathetic,

dance of naked

bodies strewn across

a dreamscape reality.

memories shimmer

in the distance

too far for me

to see clearly,

but close enough

to remind me what

I have missed out on

all of these broken years.

a beast and a gentleman

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

I haven't even managed,

to hit my full stride,

yet.

I'm already your favourite beast,

and maybe,

favourite gentleman.

 

The image is broken.

 

The thoughts of me,

and my best moments,

fell from your ears and shattered;

a mountain ridge of memories,

piled on the cold floor,

passive,

on cracked, dry concrete.

 

You're broken,

and I know,

because,

I broke you;

you never had a chance,

or a shot in hell.

 

Don't worry,

dry your comatose eyes,

you're finished but there are,

certainly worse things in life;

not death.

 

I stole your core,

the package of life,

that represents you,

keeps you breathing,

and I ate it gladly with,

my smiling hero jaw.

 

I didn't leave a loiterer,

I fought for my territory,

but you were too strong,

too well-armed for my weak,

shameful,

display of force;

I grapple with inner demons,

that have worn me down for years;

NOW IS YOUR TIME.

 

A train clangs along,

the tracks of your hatred,

a rock on the rails,

shifts the weight,

and the train tips,

ever so slightly,

but not finally.

 

A rusted train penetrates,

a midnight sky of lost hope,

there is nothing else.

A lost relation-friend-ship, from long ago

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

There was sex, sleep, conversation, and art. There was no love. We did not even love one another improperly.

The art was tired, and made in the spirit of fun. Art is only art when it is expressing an emotion. We expressed our humourous side, with a slice of our inner happiness.Happiness took its foot of the gas occasionally, and the remnants of past glittered with pain in the pupils of our eyes.

The sex was never tired, even when we were. The conversation never struggled, but never went much below the surface. Sleep didn't matter.

We existed this way for months, in between relationships, ex-lovers, and competing friendships. One day it broke, and we may have spoken a total of three sentences each since.

Even broken friendships are worth remembering. Some things that glitter lose their appeal too soon.There is an abyss of lost friendship, and conversations that should have happened. 

Sometimes we dance on the edge of both love and friendship. Sometimes we are too broken to dance.

to err is human

/ andyveilleux / Leave a comment

A raging beast I've become,

crush that rock with my bare palm,

I emerge from a broken landscape,

promises of brighter future dance on,

my blood-soaked, salty, sweat-dripping lips;

too raw,

powerful,

for soft peers,

an outcast thrown out,

of he broken institutions,

of the white towers,

and all their failure.

 

I crawl,

powerfully,

not pathetically,

slow and steady,

an ascent against odds,

far past improbability,

balancing on the edge of possibility.

 

You should question where that places you,

fragile-sanity girls, and broken-ego ex-lovers,

and apathetic strangers who watch the tides turn,

while never being the reason.

 

Tides turn at the will of a tremendous beast,

of power unforeseen since ancient Asgardian myths,

Jotunn, who will not be stopped by the melt of glaciers,

super-nova sun, global warming, be damned for your impotence.

 

Some things will not end,

human,

some thing will not end,

despite your limited imagination,

highlighting all your ineptitudes and flaws,

culminating in an incredible parade of suck.

 

To err,

is indeed,

to be human.