Sleeping Beauty

“I am beautiful,” she said amongst the danger of hurtful words from her peers.  For many years they had persecuted her for her many imperfections.  They said she lacked any kind of beauty on the inside and out.  She knew that she was beautiful, so she returned to her home to find that inner beauty.

Nobody was home.  She gathered a few bottles of alcohol and a pair of scissors and retreated to the bathroom.  She plugged the bathtub drain and poured each bottle of alcohol into the tub.  After removing all of her clothes, she walked over to the bathroom mirror with the pair of scissors and began touching each inch of her body with the pointed end of the blades.  She watched the scissors dent her body, marking where she would cut.  She knew that beauty was held within, so she angled the blades and started cutting into her skin.  Blood dripped from her limbs, her chest, and her stomach down to the floor.  Her inner beauty, obscured from society, was finally flowing out, she thought.

A smile was needed to showcase her true beauty before she bled out.  She took the scissors and started cutting into the corners of her lips so that a bloody looking smile would come to life.  A wicked smile graced her face for the first time since she had seen life through the eyes of a child.

Afterwards, she stepped into the tub of alcohol and laid down to let the liquid seep into the cuts of her body.  The vicious burn caused her to let out a violent scream that ripped an even bigger smile into her face.  Within minutes from bleeding out and toxic exposure, she fell into a permanent sleep with her beauty circulating about the tub.

Sleeping Beauty.

Stitched at the Heart

The gaping holes in our chests are exposed to the outside world.  Our hearts are sure to be infected by the poison of insanity circulating throughout the world we live in.  They’re pulsing but the imperfections of the world are suffocating them.  Our hearts were the only things we could hear, but the sound is fainting as our heartbeats are slowing down in unison, saturating our love for each other with haunting silence.  The world is not going to separate us, it doesn’t understand the love we have.  Bring yourself closer to me, I’m going to fix this.

I take a thread and needle and prepare to pierce it through my love and I.  Our hearts are meant for each other, not the outside world.  I begin sewing through the edges of the gaping holes in our chests that left our hearts exposed.  As time progressed, stitch by stitch, our innards began to exchange heat to melt the ice covering our organs.  Our heartbeats were beginning to pulse more rapidly while blood erupted from the arteries.  I was careful to not puncture our hearts with the needle accidentally while sewing through the muscle and tissue forming the holes in our chests.  She was very trusting of my ability, knowing how cautious I am in order to preserve our love.  With skill and precision of an artist, I was constructing a true masterpiece.

As I came to the final stitch, I looked into her eyes and saw my reflection.   I see myself in her and she sees herself in me.  We were meant to be stitched at the heart.  The process is complete, each time my heart beats it lightly touches hers and vice versa.  Soon enough the stitches will disintegrate and we’ll be fused permanently.  Our hearts used to live in two separate chambers within ourselves.  Now our hearts coexist in one dark chamber where our love can thrive together.  This is the closest I can ever get to your heart.

Feeling Faint

Recently I’ve been feeling a little woozy.  I think it’s because I’m not eating as much as I usually do.  This isn’t intentional, however not completely favorable.  Why search for outside of this room when I can search for satisfaction within?

I should just pull out my small intestine and gnaw on it ’til it rips.  It’s like a snake made out of mucous and tissue that’s decorated with braided veins and slithers about in my body.  The snake stays in touch with my stomach by biting down with its fangs so it never loses that connection needed at meal time for proper digestion.  It’s quite ropy and slippery, but I can get a good grip on it with my canines if I bite down hard enough.  They’re sharp enough to the point that I can sever the veins that imprison my half-digested meals.  I can ingest the same carbohydrates, lipids, and proteins over and over; hopefully it will satisfy my hunger before I faint and fall on something sharp.  I wouldn’t want that sharp object to spill meals all over the carpet and let them go to waste.  The hungry are in abundance elsewhere, so I need to be grateful for what I have inside.

I could’ve plunged my arm deep into my esophagus to catch my food before it bathes in gastric acid.  This reason, in particular, is why I will choose my small intestine over my stomach.  If I pushed my face into a pool of stomach acid like it was a pie-eating contest, the hydrochloric content would burn my skin and ultimately dissolve my entire face.  There’s not much I can do if my body melts into some kind of gelatin.  You know when people express their pleasure with chocolate by saying, “It melts in my mouth!”  Deadly pH levels can make that dream a reality.

Who’s hungry?

Her Tears of Beauty

Look beyond the glass walls of her body

And you’ll see the torment suffocating her heart.

Her beauty has been painted with scars,

A new source of painful memory.

Your hauntingly dark eyes stare deep into hers,

Watch as her tears melt the color of her eyes.

Her tears trickle down the rest of her body,

Melting whatever color composed her beauty,

Leaving her entirely grey and damaged.

Nothing but streaks and scars remain from

The violence you’ve imposed.

Your hand has silenced her long enough,

For her scars mean survival,

And you’re trapped in this world,

Lonely and fading.

Until My Dying Day

Until my dying day, I will gaze up into the blue sky as it fades to a darkness that cannot be chased away.  I'll be waiting for the white blinding glow of an angel's halo to dip from the starless sky, illuminating my face with hope.  An eerie silence will permeate through the cracks of my soul, poisoning my brain, bringing peace of mind.  The halo will continue to drape down the walls of the atmosphere until it wraps around my neck and begins to strangle me.  The angel will then reel me up on her angelic noose, bringing me out of this world of hatred, and into a realm of white shine polluted with peace, ruled by my Creator.

She Finds My Heart

She stands in front me, pondering why I am the way that I am. My entire body is intact and I’ve professed my love for her, but she is curious to see me on the inside. She wishes to scavenge for the love within my inner chambers, layer by layer of my anatomy.

Slowly she begins to grab hold of my skin, the outer most layer of my being that she’s used to seeing everyday, and rips it off like wallpaper. There are a few more layers of skin to peel if she wishes to go any deeper. It’s almost like a mask and costume of deception to her, hiding what I really am on the inside. Blood permeates through my layers to let her know that I am indeed human. I implore her to dig deeper.

She has arrived at the muscular system. Blood still flows but it has picked up the pace. I have the strength to uphold myself, and my love for you shall do the same. Go even further my love, you haven’t reached the center of my universe.

She’s proven how eager she is as the blood stains her hands and the ground below us. The warmth of the blood shields her from the ice coursing through her own body. She continues to pry my muscles from the tendons connecting to my bones. In the process she has managed to dispose of my organs. My stomach still pulses with nausea, yet there is no sickness inside of me for there is only love. My lungs are working overtime to compliment the thumping heartbeat to ensure I’ll be with her until my last breath.

She has finally reached my skeleton. The bones are still shaped correctly to hold me up as she is minutes from discovering the love within me. This is the first time my inner self has escaped from the eternal darkness. She has allowed the light to fill my pale skeleton as the life spills out of me. She removes the roof of my skull and pulls out the brain. She examines the beauty of its complexity and takes note of my thought process. This is also the first time that she’s been able to read into my mind. There is no code to decipher, she can see exactly what I’m thinking. Telepathy at its finest. She gently places my brain back in and closes my skull.

She works her way to my heart. She snaps my ribcage open like it was a trap door and grasps my heart firmly with purpose. She’s careful so as to not drop it, risking disease and splinters from piercing it the second it hit the floor. A feeling of warmth and love impales through her hand as the feeling travels through her arms and towards her heart. Love possesses her own heart as she nears the end of her journey. She has reached a moment of clarity as blood trickles down her arms and soaks the rest of her body. She has found the center of my universe and her own. We live through each other in the heart. Do you see now, my love?

Now stitch me back together.

Beauty and Chaos

The World is a painting I exist in,

Yet I don’t even know its Creator.

It’s a work of Art that is never permanent,

Amending itself with escalating beauty and chaos.

I stand in an open field to view

The evolving beauty.  It’s like

The colors bleed into each other

To create an entirely new painting to awe.

The colors of the World begin to melt.

The paint falls to the surface I stand upon

Like rain that cleanses the World

From all its chaos.

The surface is flooding with a concoction

Of beauty and chaos.  The pool’s volume

Continues to grow until my feet are lifted

And I’m swimming in the paint.

The World is looking white

As if the Creator is beginning a new project.

The paint continues to melt until I’m treading

In the pool of beauty and chaos.

This is not the end of the World,

The Artist wants us to truly engage with the Art.

I look upon the ghostly white environment,

And then slowly fall until my head is submerged in the paint.

I’m not fading into the darkness,

I am drowning in Art.

The pool of beauty and chaos drowns me,

Dying in Art and not a World of nothing.