the electrical poet circus

let's listen to radio static and get high off cd dust

[deadcircusclown]

gulp... just posted my first kriselle fic... y'all should go read it...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/87858791/chapters/232847226

[deadcircusclown]

I had to christen my new notebook

[deadcircusclown]

Fallen Angel

My divinity means nothing without the weight of your approval

My wings vanish with all the announcement of an exhale, sending me straight into the Third Circle

Though my halo doesn't, your initials glow where they're carved into my flesh

Born from sin, you made me feel holy

A fleeting, sunlit caress granted by your omnipresence

Now, surrounded by flames and false promises, all I can do is cry out-

"My God, why have you forsaken me?"

[deadcircusclown]

the failure of a satellite

I trace the rough edges of the moon every night

All of her scars are adored by my palm, each ridge and bump caressed with equal adoration

She kisses me goodnight with the glow of her beauty, sweeping me into dawn with her translucence

I end up under the glow of her brother, dazed but protected

I don't get attached to anything except the rays beaming down on me

The only faith I have is in the law of nature, because if even that betrays me then maybe I really do deserve it

I used to have a moon in my orbit

She was as radiant as a lake reflecting the sun, blue-green eyes and a wicked smile that stole all the air around her

Unfortunately for me, she wasn't bound by gravity nor the wilted plea in my gaze

She circles another planet, now

I can still see her from my galaxy, through the haze of stars and nebulas

The rules of space should include not being allowed to be that stunningly beautiful after shattering someone

A million things bubble up to the tip of my tongue, but cowardice holds me back from shrieking every vile truth that she refused to acknowledge

Instead, I watch comets trickle through the cosmos, wishing upon each of them that maybe this black hole of sorrow would leave me alone

[deadcircusclown]

as it turns out, I am a fool

I'm starting to wonder if every poem I've written is a lie

Was it pure desperation, concentrated like syrup, that kept my pen gliding over the pages in love-struck loops?

Change is supposed to be natural, not wretching my burning flesh away from your false promises

I suppose it will heal, as all things do

The scar will twist across my abdomen like the knot of an oak

Wisdom born from pain, a forlorn beauty that's admired but never wanted

Statues in bronze were always erected from pity

My writings are no longer prolific, only riddled with the kind of scattered madness that comes from grandeur foolishness

And even now, this is dedicated to you

My woeful, imperfect muse

Pieces of you are riddled in every piece of me, so much so that I cannot tell where I end and you begin

I still feel you, all the same

I also still feel the burning resentment for you daring to blame this on fate

The only puppeteers were your guilty conscience and my lack of self-respect

The universe was just the vessel for our implosion

Do the Saints in Heaven look down on me with pity? Or is it disgust marring their angelic faces?

Either way, they hold their breaths as I pass, because that kind of selflessness is bred only from deep-seated destruction

[deadcircusclown]

age regressed shakespeare call that little-ature

[deadcircusclown]

I rake my hand along steaming embers just to feel the pinpricks in my palm

Red spots dance across my skin, tiny coals sizzling down to the bone

The rising smoke encourages me to gag, but I choke down the scent along with the tears in my eyes

I feel a tug between my ribs to succumb my entire being to ashes

Not just my corporeal basis, my spirit itself seems to yearn for the shape of proverbial dust

The fact of my existence wells up a boil of ache within me

Something softer than original sin, but not quite pure human nature

It's a stagnant necrosis of what I was supposed to be, the rot of promise twisted along my skeleton

Some creator whispered the path of destiny around my essence, but wither bit into the fruit of my conception and left me paralyzed at the fork

Potential faded away as consciousness leaked in and influence seeped between my pores

I never parade in song and dance beneath a dunce cap, for just like everything, a fool cannot be made out of nothing

I may be matter, but the space between my atoms swallows ant outline of purpose

I am a shell of flesh containing half-uttered covenants from a time no one was around to record

Was my pledge to fate interrupted, or was it simply dropped due to my lackluster finish?

My answer will come when I lay amongst the Earth in scattered dust

[deadcircusclown]

regret looks good in yellow

A raised finger lazily twirling a cracked globe

Two eyes, the same honeyed brown, gazing with dropped lids

Sunlight streams through battered blinds, catching dust in golden rays

Mahogany kisses oak where the desk meets the floor, splinters of both clamoring around leather soles

Stiff brunette hairs glow amber, but his complexion reflects jaundiced

The scent of his disease clings like a film of cigar smoke and neat whiskey from a dive-bar

His halo rests in sickness and his tombstone rests in weathered photographs along the mantle

A well-worn notepad collects names, not for future pictures, but for back alley deals under flickering street lamps

Regret no longer weighs in his stare- it sits in a wooden drawer, wrapped in a flaxen band

The tawny metal holds memories of sea-swept blonde hair and fall beaches, a portrait of what was supposed to be forever

Eternity, though, includes nightfall, and he lies stagnant at sunset

[deadcircusclown]

I gaze up at the twinkling constellations, moonlight dripping down my cheekbones

Time holds its breath in count with the breeze, stalling the whispers between the brush and behind my ears

Paralyzation is too clinical a word for the way my feet cling to the asphalt

It's nothing biological, it's as if an omniscient hand dipped between the clouds to soothe the creases along my forehead

My irises absorb the midnight sky instead of reflecting it

A tether punches between the ocean of blue and my ribs, fracturing the silence with a metaphysical snap

It echoes like the call of a sparrow, thrumming through the pearly light with a shudder

The vibration rolls my eyes back just as dawn starts to color the horizon

I come to on another starry night

My ankles crunch between the cracks in the road, serpentine tendrils wrapping along my legs, blooming a wilted purple

I reach for one of the buds, and it's almost as if my soul sharply flinches against my flesh

I search in my periphery to find my arms locked in rigor mortis

My skin glows the same translucent hue as the moon above, my fingers curling in like wisps of smoke

The treeline ahead of me is cloaked in fog like matte diamonds

[deadcircusclown]

I slide along a lake of frozen moonlight

Skin burning raw with icy friction and wear

Ruby trails cloak petrified fish out of sight

I'm relieved, for their gaze I could never bear

With each gasp, my smoky breath snakes to the stars

Trailing up against the weight of gravity

My ribs prickle witnessing it go so far

For it contains the wisps of my levity

I look upon it as if I'm its parent

Vicariously living amongst the clouds

Flush with the ice, my flesh tinges transparent

I search for green, but I've never been that loud

I peel myself from the rink and leave the scraps behind

Whatever hex set me here keeps me in an oval

I peer into the frosted lake to find the witch that hides

All I discover is my reflection crying opal

[deadcircusclown]

A poem for end times

The fire we stole from the gods has burnt out

Our ashes mingle with the air, chemicals for another species to discover

The horizon crystalizes blue once more as buildings absorb into the earth

Graves erode into plaques of chicken scratch, an encryption of mournful intelligence

The only witnesses of our downfall were the stars and each other

Sometimes you couldn't tell the difference between the two; Other times it was so stark it blinded you

Was it cosmic karma or our own malevolence that we crumbled?

There is no history left to retrace the cause back to, just the intrinsic knowledge we all had of dominoes falling for centuries

The world didn't end with ice or fire or even the whisper of a prayer- it died in silence

Necrosis had set in along our veins slowly but surely, until no amputation could save us

We wasted away in a blank stare of dust and the smell of moss reclaiming our bones

Our nature was passion and heat and reaction, it's no wonder we went up in smoke

Our indentation will round out during the next life cycle

Does time still exist with no one to keep it?

Animals pass on the vague notions of our society to their young, but mythology can't be comprehended by minds that can't hold madness

Perhaps that's why we never discovered more intelligent life- they all found insanity before we found them

Is the universe itself mad, or is it simply a warden for our asylum?

How many populations has it watched rot away in their own minds?

That was the real prison, the projection of reality in our skulls

We got trapped in our own wedges of reality by the limits of flesh

If I still had a corporeal basis, I'd wonder if we were just a part of a cosmic statistic that fell to the predisposition for hatred

But now we're all clutching at the knowledge of what once was with our non-existence

The planet is at a lush peace, full of the crooning of wildlife finally set free

Now, our only mark is the ghost of our voices living within the echo of the wind, a faint breath whispering out:

We were here.

[deadcircusclown]

Veins thrumming with the pulse of ambition

Your parched throat aches from the loss of the ocean

The guillotine cannot behead you, Cerberus of freedom

Spread your wings from the building fall and let your heart beat the rhythm of your path

You are a child of the supernova, inherit the stars with the same grace you carry your crown of thorns

The wind flows the call of your name, rain breathes your light across the sun in a burst of color

The weather met you as a midwife and has watched you ever since

[deadcircusclown]

I look back to see who snapped my teather, but all I find is my own knife

The buoy I came from is lost in the midst of the unrelenting tide

I float freely in the open water, a life jacket in the shape of her arms the only thing keeping oxygen in my lungs

I drift past islands like a plastic bottle waiting to be thrown away

All that's left of me is a choking hazard, anyway

Barnacles sprout on my arms like battle scars from the sea

I am a myth, but they want a fairytale

Not haunted folklore told at bonfires that flicker your name into the night

My corpse is a relic containing no trace of me except for DNA, something to be contained in a museum with a plaque that has the buzzwords of my story

The curators won't give a third thought to the way my name sticks to the roof of their mouths

They'll spit it out in conversation like sunflower shells they won't bother to take to the wastebasket

My mother will receive a certificate and a lukewarm apology in the mail, the only remnants of me in her life besides the blood in her veins

Guilt nibbles at her stomach lining for casting me out like driftwood

Her poison of choice is bourbon, and so she drowns the rat within her

Fate decided arsenic would be too kind

The creature ends up dead and bloated, a mirror of my body encased in resin

The certificate on the mantel collects dust, until it's a yellowed remainder of a girl with blue eyes

The woman tending the house says a prayer of whiskey every time that stormy gaze pierces her mind

Eventually, the only memory of navy she has is the night sky

[deadcircusclown]

A skeleton encases a museum lost to time

In the crumbling aftermath, a weary heart still beats

Each thud against concrete sends a splatter of blood across sunken stones

Spirits of the past wander about in folklore, a glimpse of every what-if in their hollow eyes

The tales of a era now gone exist within sun-bleached photographs, pictures of pale green trees next to a bright star, her grin infectious and eyes shimmering

Even washed out, she rests vividly in the frame

She does not rest in peace, however

Her tombstone lies somewhere in-between the crevices of broken rock

No name etched on it, just the wisp of a memory you can't quite grasp

It slips away like smoke out of an addicts' lungs, the lingering scent leading to more questions than answers

She loved the world and in return it killed her

Her clone is a shell of a person wrapped in blue eyes and a touch of her lost potential

They pop pills instead of bubbles and write notes instead of stories, her memory being desecrated with each scar and sleepless night

All stars burn out eventually, but she was extinguished in a pool of her own blood

The before and after isn't so much mythology as a cautionary tale, a shadow at the edge of the bonfire waiting to dig its claws into naivety

[deadcircusclown]

free will is tattooed into my very bones

There is no red string of fate between us

The universe didn't carve our initials into the cosmos with its first breath

The stars of our constellations aren't intrinsically interlinked, nor do our orbits celestially cross paths

Rather, you rescued me to your shore when I was lost at sea

You welcomed me to your island with a tender grin and a hug that was warmer than the shining sun

You shared your bountiful harvest, which was more than enough for me to sail the oceans in search for a land of fabled greatness

But I had a real story of eminence in my periphery

No chest of gold could contain a fraction of the luster within your eyes

I could see the question in your frown when I told you I wished to stay, your glance searching for what treasure I must of found to keep me here

There simply wasn't a mirror for you to see the gems in your own gaze

My home isn't a land of fairytale riches, nor is it the wooden house we constructed for shelter

It's the space between your arms reserved only for me

Destiny didn't write that- I did

I chose you then, I choose you now, and I will continue to for the rest of our lives

[deadcircusclown]

Goodbye.

Thank you for killing me

The voices within my head have finally ceased

I am no longer a multitude of entities vying for control over my prefrontal cortex

I am myself, at last

The night sky no longer whispers my name between the stars

I no longer have a name

The only thought of existence is the breath of my flickering consciousness

Peace begins in solitude, and in life I was never alone

The moon was always watching

Waiting

It can't reach me here

No light can, and in the absence of light, darkness cannot thrive

I am within nothing, but have never felt so complete

My soul is no longer fighting against the chains of looming spirits haunting my flesh

My prison of skin melted away, and with it the vines of terror

I cannot feel here, but I am not supposed to

It is not the stifling numbness of dissociation I felt within my human being

I am not a single cell entity, I am merely the concept of mortal perception let free

The void is beyond quiet, a deep silence that stretches on for eternity

There is no ringing in my ears at the absence of sound, nor any racing thoughts trying to comprehend what was never meant to be

Insanity cannot reach me here

No words can

Only the vague illusion of sensation and the notion of my existence

I remember enough to know that this is what safety is supposed to feel like

A blanket of infinite nothing, cloaking my spirit from the idea of being aware

We were never supposed to know that we were alive, but somewhere along the line we woke up

And at last, I am asleep once more

[deadcircusclown]

DNR

I never want to be an organ donor

Maybe it's egocentric of me

I feel a kinship with the carriers of my body

They've witnessed the horrors I have, and yet, they keep function

I suppose they have no choice, trapped in the cage of my ribs

But they feel something like mine

Being robbed of that, a piece of myself torn off in every corner of the world, feels like my soul is fracturing

I never was the most altruistic, but I just want something to call my own

I was stripped of my flesh down to my bare bones and they told me that wasn't enough

So forgive me, for wanting to feel complete in death as I never could in life

My organs will rot and decay in my coffin, but at least my ashes will be one, whole person