Shards of Sugar (2022 - 2023) | Poetry

80.) celestial hands

I hadn't always known,
how I've been packing up my suitcase.
For two decades I've flown
things to me through an owl with a bird face.
Getting ready to cross the bridge without passing as a disgrace.

Oh, I've never really cared about honour, only pretended to.
No, my heart's always grey or filled with colour, never blue.
So what if I'm a liar some days, if you always speak the truth what does that make you?

And my stomach's full like an oven with my final form,
waiting to drop it and then turn to foam.
Decompose with the critters, with the waiting worm,
waiting to end this temporal era where my tiresome soul roams.

What's a little pain to a newborn sadist?
What's the numbing of the mind to heart-driven soul?
Call me conceited with hubris because I feel like the greatest.
I'm sick of being broken in fragments, I desire being whole.

Feed my nourished corpse to the vampires when I'm gone.
The feast will be on me, I insist.
I will no longer be a billion but one.
Death is a phase, my life will persist.

I am not a poet, I'm a fighter,
battling society's strange structure.
It's archaic so I take a lighter
to its robed feet like a vulture
to dead meat,
this is how I greet.

I'm tired of being the person other people want me to be,
but what choice do I have?
When I don't know how to be the person I want to be,
without freedom, all I have is art but what else do I have?

My mortal life is the epitome of a time waste,
I just want to lie with God in the clouds.
Waiting for death more than my next birthday, the taste
of fate hunting my shadows down like a civilian who forgot they bowed
in a time that only existed in their head,
they steal the colours purple, gold and red.

What makes you think I care for anything at all?
Blasted watery rock, wretched floating ball.
This matrix holds no meaning at all.
All I ever want to do is go, is fall.

The closest I can get to the sky is in sleep,
where my eyes are closed, where I don't peep.
All of these stanzas in place of a censored bleep.
Can't you see the only thing I desire isn't sheep?

Give me wings and I might give it try,
they'll be compass, my ticket to anywhere.
Instead you will most definitely let me cry,
knowing that the only place I can reach is nowhere.

Speed it up, we're all dying anyway.
I await the invasion, blood in the sky.
Stubborn people, uncharging, then there are those who sway.
Finally there to fade away.

Why scream inevitability's name?
Why end on "what a shame"?
There is no value, why can't you see that?
You're in a coloured void, all God has to do is pull the mat.

Show me what an angel looks like,
why am I still here?
I can always pull out a glass spike
like before, from the mirror,
crystal clear.

All my screams gather up inside,
waiting to yell at the heavens in death.
Look at all the secrets you hide,
The depth, the extent, the breadth.

All I want to do is push the moons deep into the suns.
To pop the meteors like balloons.
To make the stars explode, waste the galactic funds.
Eat the black holes, lick the moons.

Give me a playground,
watch the play I write.
Look what I've found,
dolls dressed in white.

I'll show them what black is,
I'll show them the bubble, the fizz.
The pop,
the drop.

All they'll come to know is inferiority,
is untouchable, only seeable tomfoolery.

You can't touch these celestial hands,
they're mine, like the gloves of which all strings are birthed from.
like distant skies and clouds to helpless lands,
watch them beg and ask and cry while I play dumb.

Paint question marks where their eyes should be,
cast them aside like they're nothings.
Give them the vision of a moth or flee
so believe that they're all little somethings.

Pitiful beings, human.
We all know nothing.
Questions illumine.
Always dead spring.

Spring is dead,
the flowers on my grave.
The sun is black.
The sky the void it always was.

Now you know why mortals like me
are always angry.
︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎∞︎︎
ద     ద 𖦊 ꪉ 𐀔 𐃸 ద   𖦊  ʊ
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༒ ༒ ᜊ ༒              ༒       ༒
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