But Lonely Be the King

I now know why I had to be the first to say it every time.

Rejection is painful realization, my weekness springs from the knees.

I have pushed so many away just by mistake and shame.

This karma is such a bitch, I will beg for forgiveness.

All I ask for is a chance.

I'm so tired of having to be the one to prove something.

I have decided to numb myself against this, all of this.

Let's see someone else beg for a chance.

I can find my cruel hand, and put everyone else away.

I will no longer be crashing because of rejection or sore feelings.

No more emotions.

Because I do have things to offer. I give up on changing myself.

I have payed, and played my part.

I will let everyone pay me, and open themselves.

I will watch them writhe for my attention.

I will look a pageless blank.

They will tear their emotions through their porcelain veins.

Change will emerge in their churning stomachs.

But lonely be the king.

You owe me.

This will be our best kept secret

When can we indisputably see one poisoned mollusk in the dissipated sea?
Thin water under a hazy sky is responsible for turning my lips and eyelids into the color of aged whine.

I was dubbed the yellow butterfly, as are the rest of those who are killed on a translucent day.

I have woken up the bay of a dead man's blistered memory.
Let us put these misleading hopes and fictitious chances to sleep.
Take away their kerosene lanterns. They are cemented in their own secrets.

Comb the sable hair and close the murky eyes.

This will be our best kept secret that is fed from salty tongues with a straight face and crusty eyelashes.

This will be our yellow butterfly. There should be another way.

But I'm  the yellow butterfly. They won't take me away from me.

Dry the body, hide the hate, calm the bay with a blanket of sleep.

As the wind penetrates the wounds, I think of the smoke stained walls that all came tumbling down.