bluekrait

Poem
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I i can't be bothered to formattttttttt suck my cock.

( Script. )

The further from her, I pray, the better.
But how much further? By the pace, I say a million—
Billion, only trillion will do. The keen of her voice,
Sadly, would still be heard at such distances.
How opposite we are! How wicked we are to share blood!
Ice to fire understands more of each other than I do her thoughts!
Chaos to order would sooner enjoy meals together,
than I a day out with her.
Sun to rain care more and at least make Iris sing!
With her, I only want her howls of defeat.
But her is thou, thou portrait displayed.
I see your eyes within my own, the hue uncanny!
Thy are of flesh, and of the flesh
We are rendered but family.
Family?
What is family, what of family?
People meandering, peddling, lecherous,
Cursed and foul scum of the earth,
Are they exempt of mothers and sons?
Daughters?
No! Rotten and diseased skin originated from somewhere!
And that somewhere would be thy bosom.
Why family, O family!
Telling me of thine downfalls, thy failures!
Poppycock! Rubbish! My tears are not yours to control!
I digress.
Family is what family is, and as pride dictates so,
One must stomach family with unyielding gag-control.
O cruel fate, despairing by giving thee this family.
O how the bile churns within my gut.
O family, o merciless family.

"Danna—"
"Shut up. I know what I'm doing."
( untitled )

Near the Poles III

I wasn't allowed to have my wishes-
Far-fetched and star-catching.
Child's play,
for the saviour of humanity. My wish-
My wish was my destiny-
something I never asked for.
Something, something
I would never ask for.

I had an aspen tree put in my room.
Tiny little green leaves,
white solid bark.
It thrived in my environment.
A beautiful tiny thing, fresh
and budding-
Survived as I was unable to.

The aspen tree is named Ema-
She is my only friend;
with her skin as pale as mine.

Near the Poles II

I was moved from my cage somewhere far away.
I was boxed up like a herd animal,
Boxed up for my good will, for my safety.
I could provide the world with something
Important.
I was told- this isolation, desolation, abandonment
Was for the better of the human race.
I would be famed, a modern day celebrity.

I can't be tainted.

I know of the trees footprints, their roots, their naturality.
I know how they died.
For the betterment of mankind, of course-
And those trees, the spruce pine aspen birch-
I have all their framed photos
On my cell wall, telling me my sacrifice would be forgotten.

Near the Poles I

I could see the sun from the windows of my cage.
It glimmered, like the star it was. So beautiful-

So immortal.

The impurities were pure, bright and cauterized.
My window simply amplified the feeling,
burning shut the puncture holes on my back

I want to touch the sun;
feel the air.

Vaguely I knew the grass grew green.
The pigment and the chloroplasts-
Their quaint photosynthesis, I knew their oxygen
their carbon. But it wasn't related to me.

Only the cement of the walls.
Only the metal of the needles.
Only the cotton of the rags.

Outside, a pointless, wonderful place.

Young Master VIII -Final-

And I was bled at the butchers like meat,
all I saw was stained beneath me- my feet-
And the butcher was my master; stupid Young master-
my wrists were slit with his insignia; casted in plaster.
He told me things would be fine
"As long as you stay mine;
stay by my side and never leave-"
If I did, he swore he'd cleave
hand from wrist, wrist from arm.
So on. So forth. It's Young master's charm.
"Mine- don't leave like the others, I can't be alone
I should've known you were bad, your body so prone-
you're like the rest of them, never truly for
never truly against." Young master core-
This was Young master's centre, the most beautiful.
I saw Young master's tears, so sorrowful.

"Young master. I love you. I will not leave.
You, you, my Young master, have put me in a weave-
leaving is no longer my option to take.
Young master- This isn't for your sake.
This blood, this brand, this mind and flesh
bones and body- they've been born afresh;
born in your name, born with your cruel,
tender, smile; your careful, strict rule.
I love you, Young master." My arms hurt-
my mind was anything but alert.
But Young master held me, and things were
alright, once again.

Visionary II

The helmets never come off- unspoken rule.
They would lay on our heads, embedded like a jewel.
The visors- just to our nose- kept us from feeling
(showing our emotions, allowing room for healing)
I wish my partner understood the unwritten pact,
but he pulled his off- teal disappearing- there was no act.
He turned and smiled, "Yours next?"
I huffed- "Can't you understand? This is complex.
These helmets are never supposed to come off;
even in death." and my partner just coughed.
He walked up to me, his armour keeping from touch-
his face was kind, eyes sharp, and all I could do was clutch-
hands curled around the edge of my helmet.
Down the back of my neck, all I could feel was sweat.

"Not so bad- just some fresh air for the both of us."
I couldn't even look at him- all I could do was aggress-
his hands were soft, even through the metal
and his lips were cherry, just like a flower petal-
My own lips opened up, chromatic eyes wide-
For some reason, I didn't know why I had lied.

Young Master VII

The pleasantries were left at the door
They were simply postponed-
Young master would rather ignore
-tie them up and have them stoned-

The thin smiles and pursed lips

I never received them anymore.
For me it was short shows and clips
smiling like the fox with the hen was a chore-

Young master has laid out his trap
-carefully laid, smooth and slick for me to fall-
and from me, with each retort, each snap,
hunched over and crying, I recall

There is no longer a way out
I'm stuck here, without a doubt.

Young Master VI

"Show me your wrists." Young master was sitting, alone and dark;
I knew what he wanted- a submission, his brand, his mark.
"Show me your wrists and no harm will come
I'll only make you press down your pride and succumb-
Do you not realize what all I do for you?
I'm waiting for your submission, it's overdue."
Young master was heartless and cold
But I let him rant, let the story unfold-
Silently I refused to reply, answer, do anything for his satisfaction
But the only thing I gave him, the simplest reaction-
I bared him my pale wrists he had already seen
My sleeves rolled up- Young master's grin was just obscene.

Visionary I

Everywhere was dirty. But I was still here. "Whatever happened to that one kid- Kane?"
The helmet blocked his eyes but I knew that my partner was worried- bound by his chain.
"I don't know." I answered, whispering out my lie and letting my helmet hide-
Kane had died deeper down in the mine- further than we would ever reside.
I had looted his helmet, his life, his identity. I had only kept my name- my partner-
But he knew- He could see my cardinal sin on my lips; curling the pink- He was my awakener.
"You lie." He told me. "Kane is dead; and you know it" I couldn't see past his teal visor;
Stupid helmet, stupid, stupid helmet. "We need to talk."- it became my goal to make him wiser.

Young Master V

Young master told me if I threw the stars-
bared my forearms and showed their scars-
I could make the moon weep;
my scars would make its white glow cheap.

None of the lights were on for miles around;
Young master had me on my knees like a hound.
It was a night- we were on the balcony
all I could see were his robes; an ebony;
I could feel his presence beside me
I wept to myself; hidden but only to a degree-
my stomach stung where young master had struck.

I felt like a drum, hit and pounded- it's just my luck.
The scars on my forearms claimed the moon- victorious
their painful glow, smooth stinging, was glorious.
Young master dragged me to my feet by my hair
and said: "you, I will never share."

Young Master IV

Believing what those sluts and whores said
about young master was like being bled.
Stinging and gross, my blood stained
the robes that only kept me chained-
the wilful desire and corruption of young master
always pulled through when he bent me down faster.
Whip drawn so high, God's hand-
My blood gushed forth on his demand.

Those demons and skanks all told me to run
make love- have fun-
Be somewhere anywhere but here
but young master held me so dear;
the stupid thin smile kept me locked;
bound and blocked;
from the glorious taste of fresh air.
I now trust those sluts and skanks- they were fair.

The whip that scars my back keeps me bound
-tugged underwater and drowned-
Young master's cruel thin lips
always pass over me like the eclipse.

I can be bothered no longer to see
my young master and his bourgeoisie-
They all have blinded me
and with young master's caress; I am kept undersea.

Young Master III

Even if part of my heart craved for the burn out-
young master, burning, raging with a small pout.-
He still told me, knuckles bleeding and waters calm,
"The size of your hands, the run of your palm-
no one else I can trust, only this street rat-
this stupid dumb brat-
I can only trust you-"
The look in his eyes said if I dare be untrue-
He took me by the back of my head,
nimble shaking fingers- I could only see red-
Young master tugged me to his lips
and the holds he had- the frightening grips.
I couldn't deny the only person
Who only did such things to worsen
this kind of situation-
"You are my creation."
And there I weep; against young master.

Young Master II

The lady my young master loved was pure.
A kind lady, a sweet lady, only simply immature.
Immature in the sense that young master
would never be able to marry- it would be a disaster.
It tore my young master apart
and he rebounded like it was his art-
found me, decrepit, alone;
he reeked of cologne.
It wasn't even a sunny day
and I always told him I'm not gay-
I can't provide him the pleasure
young master used to treasure.

But he still took my hand with that stupid grin
It was fake and cruel and worn thin;
I hadn't bathed in weeks- hadn't eaten in days
And just with his gaze-

I was clean.

Young Master I

"sometime near dawn,"
It was murmured with a yawn;
my young master, driven and crazed
looked at me in a daze.
"sometime near dawn
you will simply be a pawn.
These people do not care,
or feel the need to share,
any of their tender, cruel, feelings
with the likes of your dealings."
My young master was bitter, still,
and always would be, just until
someone kinder and stronger
stuck around longer

than I ever would.

There are days without you
-there are times when I cry
times I just wonder why-
You make my faith renew.
The whisper of each second,
each hour, when you're not here
is just quiet and mere.
I will be there when you beckon.
My body is yours along with my mind.
I just wish to be
so much greater than me,
but that is me being blind-
You love me even if I'm just a mess
and I honestly will never think of you less.