Flake Off, Quagmire

Needles pierced through my skin 

Attached to the machine

Entering the layers perhaps 1/16" of an inch

At approximately 10-15 needle drops per second

Fast enough to avoid puncturing my skin 

And causing bleeding 

And yet slow enough to avoid tearing it

It bled and wept a little

But it was a uniquely personal experience

They often ask if it's sore; if the pain is unspeakable 

That somehow got me thinking once - no, a few times

That if I'd cut myself, will I bleed black?

Like the ink used for my tattoos

But I don't blame them for asking such a question 

Fooled by horror stories, they're bound to think that it's excruciating 

Often I'd like to tell them that my body can take almost anything 

A cut, a burn, 10 tattoos, and counting 

My body can withstand different amounts of pain

No need for drugs that can thin the blood

No need for skin-numbing creams

Because it is in the mind that I control the sensation 

It is my mental strength that I can always hinge upon

But no matter how strong my mind is

Sometimes my heart fails 

Every time it got fooled, played and hurt

Only time can tell how long I'd have to heal the pain

Unlike the healing process of my tattoos  

It was never quite manageable

An open wound still

I don't know how a healed heart feels like

But... Flake off, Quagmire

-PRK-

Scar Tissue

She was born pure and simple
Brought into the world so innocent, so delicate
She looked around, desiring knowledge
Yet fascinated only to the unthinkable

And down the pike, she became repulsive
Does not recognise happiness
Though to most, she seems content, calm, at ease

Yet she felt only soreness
The deeper she gazed into her own eyes,
She somehow sees only resentment

She can be high-strung
But often overshadowed by melancholia - her own gloom, the blue devils
Until she reached her depths

Tight-lipped, tongue-tied, close-mouthed, not even murmurs
The girl with the frown would only shrug
And later cut deep into her own skin

And the art on her body were not just scars
The masterpiece placed close to her wrists indicates the end of her war
"Forever fighting a battle," she said. "And the demons have won."

The razor was her paintbrush
Her body was the canvas
But her masterpieces were never on display
Only when she died today

-PRK-

Weltschmerz

I've had my chapters before I met you
Chapters that were passionate in the beginning that ended with
"You love me until you don't."

One chapter died without closure; as if I was left at the altar
Years spent trying to understand the holy mess
Years wasted trying to weave and mend what's broken
Only to uncover later it never really matters
I was in agony

Chapter two then began just as hope was about to cease
But abruptly it ended with
"You're not very Christian for me."
Frankly I find that pathetic; it wasn't worth my tears
Though I went to bed after a few bottles of beer
I was in agony

Chapter three isn't worth mentioning
Pure lust on one end and it ended slowly with treachery
Then a 'modern romance' sparked
Lecherous, hostile, revolting, revengeful; I hated everything
I was in agony

The fourth chapter... It was a soap opera
The kisses scorched me
My body trembled every time he pulls me closer
Two hearts together, and I thought
"This probably is the beginning of my last chapter."
I was wrong and I thought
"Forever is over."
Again.. I was in agony

And here is a new chapter... Are we writing it together?
Or will I be the one pulling it together?
Once again be in agony?

-PRK-

Oxygen

Barely breathing, lost in a lullaby
Roaming like a criminal, an angry passerby
Hurt inside out, buried deep in agony
In the harsh light of day, stuck in a rhapsody
But in the calmness of night, your warmth gives me peace
In the sweetness of dreams, you give me joy and bliss
And I'm breathing again with hope, faith and trust
Believing again that this too shall pass

-PRK-

Still In Agony

See, I've never meant to ever violate your words
But sometimes I go through my existence, harder than you thought
Got nobody to lean on, to count on to keep me bold
And there are moments in my life I almost vacate my hope
And I can never ever brain how you suck it through these years
How you obviously try to hold on, and the moments you've lived soaked in your tears
Never could I understand why you're still standing with those smears
Though at times you'd sounded like you're buckled up to switch your gears
But here's a question - have you ever thought of how I wish it has an end
How I wish that someday somehow, your happiness isn't condemned
That you're up for any challenges for yourself, don't need to bend
That maybe you'd be happier with your ideas, thoughts and no dent
Because it's draining me, side-splitting me as I try to live my life
Haunting me every moment as I try to really strive
A true standing pillar for the home, still trying to survive
And there are times I hated you for taking away my other life
I had to grow up, had to live up to some expectations and such
Had to crash and walk away from a different set of clutch
Guess you never really thought that it's been so hard on me
How I wish I didn't have to be part of my current agony
For it's making me despising too many things that seemed beautiful
And I've been living in monochrome, nothing was ever colourful
See I'm broken bad, bleeding inside, perhaps you'd even see my clot
If only you'd take your time to sit and read my stormy plot

-PRK-

The Butterfly Room

As I get to the swallow hole
You surfaced, kicked to locomote
Often I see you in my sleep
On the boat you were rocking with your thoughts
While the devil makes its round
My songs overwrote the memory
A misquoted wound
A Shakespearean's tragedy

-PRK-

Love Seat

Never meant to make you wend
Never meant to make you misspend
I intended to represent
The actual mistrust I've underwent

As the illusions I've apprehended
Had me reoffended the warmth they recommended
Delusional and consumable, I then pretended
That every piece are unamended

For such passion is inevitable
My confessions are dimensional
Of which each of them will be skeptical
To those who are prophetical

So relinquish that desire
Of which you will soon misfire
For I'm one you will encipher
For the waiting is now kitschier