poem

This Hyde-like Phoenix

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

 

You're falling apart,
it shows by the way your skin holds your bones,
weakly.
 
You're breaking down,
discretely,
and that's about the best thing,
that I could say about you now.
 
You can dance in the photos,
and try to look cute pouting,
the irony is the realism of it.
 
You're naked;
sad, lonely, cold.
 
There's no warmth coming,
into your fragile body,
not even from a young boy,
or an old lover.
 
I only like watching a breakdown,
when I'm the monster causing it;
we both see the masochism,
and enjoy it.
 
Human life breeds suffering,
and that fuels us both,
what's happiness?
mostly weakness.
 
It makes you overindulgent,
complacent and apathetic,
I don't need any of that shit.
 
I need to run on slow, seeping fumes of sorrow,
live for the harsh bitterness of unrequited love;
you fly at me, a captivating, raging chainsaw,
and I accept you with arms wide open,
you can't cut this skin any deeper.
 
Chunks of skin are shed off my scarred chest,
the chainsaw dulls itself against my bones,
the flesh grows back fast around the razors,
stopping your furious assault in it's tracks,
until my blood leaks down the metal,
combining with my salty sweat,
I rust out your best assets.
 
We exchange periods of unrequited love,
until we come apart at our bursting seams,
and your hatred spills onto me like acid,
slicing away what you found beautiful,
you kill the Jekyll and leave the Hyde;
I roar, scream, tear, rip,
a monster, thrashing.
 
and we hold each other like that,
you corroding, slowly,
me breaking down;
a lover's embrace based on friction,
and resistance,
no harmony.
 
Life moved much too fast for you,
never moved fast enough for me.
 
This Hyde-like phoenix was retooled,
to feed on all the shit in life,
the supply was endless.
 
Who fell apart,
again?
 
 

Enjoyment of the now

/ andyveilleux / 3 Comments

 

Defeat and victory are temporary;

slight failures or successes,

in a doomed timeline called life.

 

Nothing is permanent,

attempts at legacy;

futile at best.

 

What does that leave for us?

Enjoyment of the 'now.'

 

So don't stress,

don't worry,

life's not meant,

to be taken seriously,

or to be at all permanent.

The soul sickness

/ andyveilleux / 2 Comments

I saw you yesterday,

over my shoulder,

in a vivid dream,

you were dead;

symbolism,

surely.

 

The soul sickness,

strikes at me again,

with it's weary eyes,

drained, dead face,

gangly, toxic hands.

 

Deadly,

overwhelming,

it eats me like fire,

my thoughts are ashes,

floating freely on the winds,

thick with change and new life.

The dead faces

/ andyveilleux / 4 Comments

Look around you,

at the dead faces;

hollowed-out eyes,

empty, open mouth;

broken visage of a human being,

far removed from their soul.

 

Satellites drifting,

in lifeless space,

occasionally banging,

against something,

occasionally, someone.

 

No connection,

no meaning,

no passion,

to be kindled.

 

The lost years,

in full swing.

 

Look around you,

at the dead faces.

feed me something real

/ andyveilleux / 6 Comments

There is a confidence problem,

people have too much,

or else, too little;

there are few in the happy medium.

 

People blanket themselves with pictures,

and get the same comments;

"so pretty"

"purrtttyy"

"damnn!"

"qt!! xox"

"hot! lol"

 

Don't you ever get bored of that?

Isn't there something more to communication,

than surface-level interactions meant to stroke,

each other's egos and need for acceptance?

 

Confidence is not relative to the size of a person's self-portrait galleries;

hordes of photos does not translate into high confidence,

in fact, the opposite may be closer to the reality;

who knows?

 

The base-level interactions worry me;

we now have the tools to unite behind common goods,

and we waste it uniting behind fake comments on good looks.

 

Sure,

you might be beautiful,

but I want you to offer me more;

I know,

I'm demanding.

 

Where is your essence;

the artistic photography,

the metaphysical poetry,

the social commentary,

the inspired music,

or philosophical comments?

 

Feed me something real,

not just pictures of how almost-naked you can be.

Twice bitten never shy

/ andyveilleux / 1 Comment

She's going to destroy you,

believe me.

 

Twice bitten,

never shy;

the words of youth or bravery,

somebody with an invulnerability complex,

or maybe all of the above.

 

I'm guilty,

to hell with the consequences,

there is no judgement coming,

save for self-judgement,

and the judgement of your peers,

and if you can't handle that yet,

you haven't really been living.

 

Watch out for the pessimists,

along with their poison words,

and the way they sap life from everything,

and give life to nothing.

 

Be optimistic,

I know life sucks,

but suck it up and move on,

that's the only way to be happy.

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.

Enter my cage

/ andyveilleux / 3 Comments

There's a cage not far from here,

it holds all the pieces of my heart,

that have been swept into dustpans,

and deposited along with the memories;

nobody can put all that back together.

 

Pieces of heart lay on the cold, damp metal,

and sparkle when the light hits them right,

pieces of sanity sit there just the same,

those pieces smile in a devilish fashion,

they know what each loss means to the whole.

 

One step closer,

one mile further,

from it.

 

One more day,

one battle won,

against it.

 

It's important to win the battles,

even if the war is open for debate,

it's the only course of action for me,

save for abandoning the campaign.

 

Come ride my sanity,

come into the cage with me,

I promise I don't take hostages.