Blood-Hound (Poem + Drawing)

Blood Hound   —–>PDF with proper formatting, manuscript below. 

 

Blood-hound

________
I’ll be your sick-bird,
you be my blood-hound,
My hearts in your mouth,
Breaking neck spins round.
But,
You’re not the one to blame,
You see; I can’t complain,
This is all you’ve known.
Blackened bloody mold,
Just doing what you’re told.

Your love was a warhead,
A straight time-bomb,
You taught me this lesson,
That I ain’t so strong.
Take your pound of flesh,
Don’t matter if it’s right,
Hit me while I’m fresh,
You know I’ll never fight,
As long as you let me,
Love you more than this life.

So here’s to that jaw,
Tightening ‘round me,
I’m just your dead-bird,
So be my blood-hound,
‘Cause baby,
You’re the one with teeth.
And all I am is meat.

_______________

7×11 cut watercolor, Pen and marker. Edited fox

Poetry Friday: Chirality

This chiral strain,

Pulls me through a viscous game,

Infected rain,

Keeps me sane,

Through all the pain,

A crying shame,

That I can’t feign,

the heart to blame,

Anyone for my selfish reign, a choice all my own.

______________________________________

A very simple poem describing my frustration at my own failure to balance school, volunteering, work, and my art. I knew what I was getting into, but anxiety gets the better of me sometimes. Stuff like this traps the issues on the paper, freeing myself from their weight. Helps me keep it in perspective, you know?

It’s hard, sometimes I really don’t enjoy school the way I used to. It’s disorienting because I picked a major I loved and was interested in. But sometimes the urge to create taints that love, increasing anxiety, and leading to an overwhelmed mind-state.

Language note: I use chiral in the latin form, meaning “claw”. And yes, I do mean viscous.

Broken Mask (Poem)

A simple poem about the shallowness that many humans treat other humans with. Sincerity and honesty are important aspects of our species, and it’s sad to see them decline.

_________________________________________________________

Tight-woven agony,

immaculately crafted,

My own false humanity,

Expertly grafted,

From skin to bone.

 

Tell me,

Am I pretty?

Do my posts convey the sense I’d be down to fuck?

 

Always hiding,

Our true nature,

Never trying,

To expose ourselves to others.

 

Tell me,

How can I be honest when everyone’s a stranger?

This mask suffocates us,

An impenetrable veneer controls society; in danger.

 

Help me destroy it,

Fuck their norms and fuck their rules,

I’m a misfit,

and that’s better than the tools.

 

Tell me,

Am I pretty yet?

Or does my honesty make you feel ugly?

Does my broken mask shine too much light at your mindset?