King of Iron Hearts

When I ask her what she’s doing, she breaks character to smile and say, “I’m learning how to be like mummy, fierce and loyal, strong and beautiful in a way that people respect.”

“I want to be Queen of the jungle.”

A man should show strength

Power in his veins like burning live wires

Crackled intensity inside his gaze

Spiralling up the rod of steel in his spine

But

There are tears in my ducts

Caught in the velvet pink like jewels

They gleam

Betraying me

My spine wilts

Metal melting in the firestorm

Of my flaming heart

That burns

Like some eternal torch

Stronger than my manliness

More powerful than my might

It wrecks me weak from the inside out

Machismo

Dirt in my boots

Ink on my hands and a bike

Thrum

Humming between my legs

Bad boy

Sinner

Future criminal

But I have love on the brain

And stars in my eyes my father pulled

From the sky just for me

I have words on my tongue

That gather like pearls

And when I speak

It’s in jeweled prose

Are my gems precious enough for you?

Even with mud on my face and iron in my blood.

I may be a rebel, but I’m one with a cause.

And that cause is you.

I have an insatiable appetite for destruction

An incurable need for a simple view

To fracture like a kaleidoscope

Into so much colour

So many shapes

Until what once was

Is now so much more

Pretty boy

They all want you

The girls with dips and curves

For hand holds

The thin young things with

Eager lips

All the women see a man

Tall, dark, and handsome

With an edge

Drawn in ink on his skin

And they want you

Pretty boy

You collect them all

The reds, the blondes

And the mahogany haired

Like notches on your belt

But the one girl who sees

The chemistry of your plastic smile

And the depth of your hollow gaze

The one girl who sees more than just

A pretty boy

You keep her far away

I may be mute

Because I do not have the words

To express the depthless font of feelings

In my dark and twisted heart

But do not assume

That makes me blind as well

I was mute

In class

Silent

At parties

So quiet in my throat

It spread like a virus into my lungs

Over my skin and hair

Until it was a physical thing

Invisibility

Yet

You noticed me

And your voice

It outlined my edges

Filled in my blanks with colours

You

You noticed me

And in the beauty of that regard

I found my voice

Because I needed one to describe

The wet blue velvet in your eyes

And the thin skin where your thigh meets

Your groin that is sweet and velvet as a bruised peach

I learned

To speak with words

That could only be heard

With my lips pressed to your flesh

“I’m a storm,” you said.

“Gale force winds and pelting rains

Sudden explosions of noise and wet

So much thunder

You roar

You cannot contain me

I cannot be yours.”

But I am a storm chaser

Hurricane watcher

I don’t need to catch you to claim you

I only need to respect you to love you.

Why is there no sympathy for the devil?

He who sits in irons bound to a dark throne

In a kingdom filled with hate and loss

Stinking of brimstone

He who has the company of demons and sinners

Who rules over an endless growing domain

That echoes with wraith’s pitiful moans and wails

Why is there no sympathy for the immortal man

Who paid for the simple sin of pride

With an eternity of ruling restless souls

That will never love his own?

Definition:

A plan or purpose with an unstable structure the could be destroyed easily.

There is so much poetry in devastation

In the monumental destruction of things

Of ancient pyramids falling broken in the sands

Of grand empires fracturing into modern states

Some things break beyond compare

But there is worth to be found in the archeology

Of those ruins

Everything lost is not forgotten.

Why is it

That you hurt me so bad

And the only person I want

To comfort me

Is you?

Have you considered

That is was Dr. Frankenstein who was

The real monster?

We are the product of our circumstances.

Why is a monster a monster?

Because it doesn’t know how to retract its claws.

I am old sorrow

Ancient tears that have dried on the shore

Between the creases of each rock like sad diamonds

Barely winking in the cloud filtered light.

I am withered dreams

Empty husks dashed upon dry soil

That has yet to be tilled

A fallow moment in time

Momentarily forgotten.

I am fossilized heartbreak

Whorls of my fractured soul

Trapped in hardened fragments of soil

Compressed by time

For other people to find and study

That they might learn from my mistakes.

How can ‘what if’

Feel like a war wound

From a battle you forgot you fought

A limb you never really lost

That feels as though it’s gone

She walked by me

So many times

Without seeing me

But I saw her

So many times

Without even looking

She was etched onto my lids

Scent punctured through my nostrils

Voice looped through my head like a song

I was branded by the sight of her

While she…

She didn’t even know my name.

The greatest tragedy

Of unrequited love

Is knowing

You have an expensive gift to give

That will never be received

No matter how charmingly you wrap it

Or how often you lay it at their door

It will remain forever unopened

Unwanted

And insecure.

We are sorry to inform you that your application has been denied.

To all the girls with their heads in the clouds