maleficent_

What if I'm someone you won't talk about ?

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  • maleficent_ 5h

    We stumble inside the library , to find
    new chunks of fiction
    because reality,
    my friend , isn't something people
    willingly choose .
    You kiss me furiously and the hardbound
    Crime and Punishment , rattles on the
    shelf above .
    Dostoevsky is watching the lust fueled ,
    mad passionate , love .
    Love that burns so hard one moment
    it sears your palm , and fades in shadowy
    smoke the next .
    The edges of world are grey and blurry ,
    windows don't do justice to the
    intensity of rain .
    You look at me and sketch a galaxy
    on my throat with your eyes . Brownstone eyes .
    What do you want to read , lover ?
    Something grave and dry and horrifying you say .
    How about past ?
    But you can't read that , because poets like you and
    me , we don't read what we made ourselves ,
    it feels like pressing a tender bruise again
    just to feel the lick of pain .
    So for now , settle on Hemingway , why don't you .
    And when the rain ends , kiss me again
    under Pride and Prejudice this time ,
    and feed me lies , delicious lies ,
    about how love is eternal .
    Would you ?

    - Ruhii


    Where is the motivation for writing coming from ?

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    Hemingway and Austen
    or maybe ,
    Dostoevsky and Sexton .

  • maleficent_ 1d

    This time ,
    my heart has tripped out from my chest
    and found home in a stranger's palm .
    He squeezes it and tries to soak it in
    holy water , to make it new again .
    But it has cracks , endless cracks , nasty nightmarish
    stains .
    Stranger , you look like you know the difference between experience and mistakes ; love and infatuation and things that always confuse me .
    Tell me stranger , have you found love yet ?
    You tell me my eyes
    hold secrets and are deep ,
    my palms have creases made of silk fibers ,
    voice dripping with stardust and I look familiar to you .
    Do I ?
    I have always held more than seven colours on my canvases , always more than 26 letters in my poems and I've held more than one funeral for every chunk of myself I lost to the void at 5 am's .
    Are you one of those colours ? Letters or Chunks ?
    Do you also write poems about unrequited love and let the world believe you're just a poet , and inhale soot when you're alone ?
    No , You look like solid madness .
    You talk about things you like with such raging passion , I want to dip my hands in blood and place them on your bare heart .
    But If I tell you ,
    my eyes are just pale marbles ,
    and the creases on my palms are
    made with precision of haunted knives ,
    my voice a whisper of your scared subconscious
    and I look familiar because I broke you heart once ,
    Tell me stranger ,
    would I still look like a muse to you ?

    -Ruhii

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    Haunt me , stranger .

  • maleficent_ 1w

    The war is over . Lost .
    I am a residual
    of your subconscious .
    Blurry , smudged , lurking in the shallow
    passages of your medulla . Wandering around
    the heavy knot of sane threads on the edge of snapping.

    Snapping , Snapping .

    I live in a two story house
    with familiar-strangers and a skin ,
    a mold of what is me . A hollow cylinder .
    Slythering through the doors , voices boom
    laughing , bonding , smiling . Blameworthy
    promises and sharp edges tracing the veins on
    my forearm , Lace collars looping around my throat
    cutting the flow of life .
    I pretend the world is good and keep laughing .

    Laughing , Laughing .

    Bare feet , Vast nakedness .
    I have a marble statue of a naked girl , her
    teeth perfectly aligned in a smile and her eyes
    flickering through the stone .
    There's a replica of the statue too , only living ,
    breathing , and shuddering . Blood-stained
    teeth clapping together .
    Images go off in my head like a broken camera reel .
    Blurry , out of focus images , and I try to look for anyone dying in the background .

    Dying , Dying .

    The facade of sunshine is too strong . You can't
    look beyond the halo , or find the nucleus of
    all the saturated venom and grief .
    You'll be blinded by the lights , You'll be thrown in
    a tailspin , with no boundaries , only Shadowy clouds
    of your own demons enveloping you , and you'll be
    spinning with no end in sight .

    Spinning , Spinning .

    Touch the soft skin of my shoulder , with your hands , with your lips .
    But don't gasp at the ridges , don't feel the slices .
    Don't come in contact with the graveyard separated from you by just a layer of skin .
    Touch , savour , smile , throw .
    You'll find me licking the cuts on my jugular , with my own salty tongue , lapping the crimson trail up .

    Lapping , Lapping .

    - Ruhii


    Doesn't make sense , but then , nothing does .

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    War remnants .

  • maleficent_ 2w

    Love , for you and from you
    tastes like champagne and
    stale kisses . And I have no choice but
    to put on the black dress that reeks of
    nightmares and memories and
    wear sharp red lipstick to make
    up for the lack of blood on my teeth
    that day , and saunter over to you
    with a stare that has all the warmth
    of a December night .

    The club chokes on hip hop and jazz
    and the tables have men , with shining
    wedding bands on their hands
    caressing the curves of someone
    their wives gossips about .

    I meet your gaze and find a void
    just identical to mine inside those
    eyes . The smile all bright
    but the stare all liquid shadows .

    We move against each other
    slick with sweat and the sickly
    stench of fake whisperings ,
    You trace the name of your lost
    love on my collarbones and I
    moan the syllables of a name too
    painful to remember , between your
    shoulders !
    We move together to the cliff , fall ,
    and surface back , only to again shove
    ourselves in the harsh kisses ,
    the kind that don't make your heart fuzzy
    but hold a promise to tear it further apart .
    Taking , not giving . Demanding .
    Everything and more !

    We pant againt each other and
    you don't help me get dressed ,
    I stare at the bloody trails on your
    shoulders marking you and I know
    they will remind you of me tomorrow ,
    a black clothed nightmare , with
    no intention to form coherent thoughts .
    and you'll forget me after a couple hours .

    Love demands ties , and neither of us
    has any length of our rope left
    to offer .
    So I leave while listening to the beat
    thumping out from the club , Radiohead yells
    "You've changed the lock three times , he
    still comes reeling through the door !"

    - Ruhii .


    At this point I'm writing without any conscious thought and you can evidently see that .

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  • maleficent_ 2w

    Undying and rotting cliché love keeps reeking in my backyard and you come like a zephyr holding the smell of beaches and cherry blossoms . I try to figure you out but you just keep shedding layers after layers and barely letting me touch the core . Are you the saturated sunshine in a vodka glass ; or are you the painting made by a drunk and fading artist ?

    Through all the shabby coffee shops , old bookstores , lost movie theatres and crimson wine stains , you float and promise to be by my side , not hold , not leave , just be by my side and witness all my sins and regrets , everytime I fall in and out of love and all the times when I try to let go of things but just can't . I just need to know that you are , there tucked in somewhere , watching all my shaky steps and dangling breaths .

    And everytime somebody says that you absolutely have to be in love with somebody to be in their poems , my subconscious yells that they're lying ; you can just be a petal in their whole bunch of lilies , or just a pearl in a whole shining string , you don't need to be in love to love someone . Unsaid things more often than not , find their way on their own .

    Right after I break down and lose all the faith in existence , you emerge from some hidden vault buried deep inside and make me believe again that things can be scarred , jarred , but still remain beautiful , you remind me that there has to be a crack to let light in . You're the ninth espresso shot of the day , bitter but lovely , necessary to be sane and sound .

    Slowly losing appetite for love and Beauty , I write bleeding and torn poems , with evil spilling out and cynicism filled upto the brim , but you take them all in and tell me that a whole black lump of life can be beautiful too , and I believe you, I always do, like your words are the force dragging me to life . I have never learnt how to trust , but with you , all I know is blind faith .

    Hiding all my insecurities amidst the poems I pen , I try to figure out how not to be a melancholic hue and make you happy the same way you make me . But you're just too intense and complex and I've never learnt how to deal with words , I can knead a thousand words to make you feel what I think , but I'll never be as good as you and maybe I would never explain what you mean . Just stay .

    - Ruhii .



    I wrote this a year ago when I was still capable of writing paragraphs after paragraphs about cliché things like love . I don't do that anymore but here it is !

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  • maleficent_ 3w

    They say they're looking out for me .
    Why do i feel strangled ?
    I should smile , laugh , jump .
    bond , hug , love .
    I do . I do all of these , but do I ?
    Shallow breathes mark their way
    through the episodes of looking after .
    My skin tingles and spiders of uncertainty crawl
    over during the bonding part .
    No , the neck scar isn't visible anymore , but what about the scars carved on my frontal lobe ?
    What about the marred soul ? Does it heal ?
    I wouldn't know .
    Never got a chance to let them rest before another
    blow , another strike , another cut , another slash , comes hurling , just deepening them .
    Dinner is supposed to be the time for seasoning love
    over the stale meal of care and comfort . Too bad I only feed on salty nightmares and sweaty sheets and the gaping fear that pounds in my ear in sync with the footsteps around me .
    Would I get out ? Ever ?
    I shrink in my mattress and suddenly remember im not supposed to wrinkle the sheets . But the fall has happened , Im whirling , drowning , and I can't find the end neither the boundaries , maybe there aren't any , or maybe they just run further away .
    I keep getting sucked .
    But I'll emerge again , for doing this all again on a brand new day .
    Holding on for tonight is all about now .


    - Ruhii


    Hemingway's ghost haunts me .

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  • maleficent_ 4w

    Sunshine boy !
    The world's not so sunshiny , always .
    Too bad you don't get to see the
    bright lights spilling everyday !
    Come here , see the blood
    clotting , rotting , smelling , dried blood .
    You feel hurt ? Good .
    Lick the soot off the floor , cram your
    mouth with doubts and questions .
    See , See the sanity slowly dissolve
    in me . Drink it up in hopes to
    fill yourself with some of it and then scream
    Scream like you're getting butchered alive , when
    it doesn't work .

    Oh Sunshine Boy !
    You need something calm ?
    I have calamities wrapped in my knuckles .
    Come play with them .
    See the watery shadows and dripping fear !
    Poke a hole in your subconscious and see
    it turn into something fragile , brittle .
    This is a crazy smelly gymnasium ,
    time to score . And don't flinch when
    I whisper to you , " I am a flatworm , stepped upon
    but still a parasite ."

    - Ruhii



    Do i even know how to write anymore ?

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  • maleficent_ 6w

    Don't fall in love with me.
    I'll come like a wrecking ball in your
    life full of orderly chaos and leave
    nightmarish stains on your bright sheets .
    I'll forget my name in hopes to remember yours
    for the rest of my life and then die just for the sake
    of uttering it breathlessly for one last time .
    .
    Round stains of coffee mugs will make home in
    my usually torn poetries and I'll trace the
    crimson trail of my being left behind while
    my vision clogs with cigarette smoke . I'll scream
    your name one moment for the world to hear it and whisper it the next so that I can keep you a secret , safe from my demons . I'll put a piece of you in all the characters from every book I love , so that when I read them again , I can taste the blood on my tongue and Alas ! It'd be mine this time . You can hold me tight between your knuckles but I'll still slip through just because I like you breathing fire after me . You can write poetries about me and I'll just burn them to ashes and inhale them and then tell you I don't smell smoke . My body is full of all things bitter , all things terrible , no blood , just liquid black tar and I'll tell you metaphors about how it represents the midnight sky . Rain will come knocking at my windowpane and I'll tell you about how the world looks like an ashtray , the soft soggy grayness blurring the edges of the world and making it a little more pathetic .
    .
    I'll kiss your moles and tell you they are the galaxies in this mundane world , having a new world tucked inside this ordinary one . I'll read you love poetries when you're burning in hell .
    I'll give you so much of my own light ; you'll forget you're being blinded .
    So , do not fall in love with me .
    Even when I'm begging you to .


    - Ruhii



    I forgot for a while what writing feels like and today I felt a trail of fire leaving my hands and tasted copper in the back of my throat .

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  • maleficent_ 9w

    On days like these
    when the sky looks clenched ;
    like it's trying to hold back what's
    inside and not break open
    in front of those who always admire
    its beauty through camera lenses
    and naked eyes ;
    My mom looks out of the kitchen window
    while she manages to make
    three different types of tea for
    three different people in my home
    and just stands there
    thinking something .

    What ? I wonder
    Does she remember the first night after
    she was married ?
    The new hopes and dreams
    weaved in red silk threads
    painted with sweet smelling vermilion
    and clinking in golden bangles ?
    Or the feeling of my feet
    inside her abdomen
    the joy of brining a new life
    in this doomed world ?

    The last words of my grandma
    as she died in her arms
    or the first words of my sister
    when she smiled a toothless smile ?
    The nights when dad came
    after drowning all his worries
    in a bottle of brown liquor
    Or the mornings when she found
    broken china in the hallway ?

    I guess she remembers all the times
    when she was a little girl
    with emerald eyes
    and long mahogany hair
    making crowns of dandelions
    and looking out of the window
    as she hoped ; one day she'll live
    like the Austen characters .

    Now she stands here ;
    a smile always plastered on her
    still beautiful face ; but her mind lost
    looking out of the kitchen window
    stirring the tealeaves ; living Plath .

    as I stand in the doorway and
    feel like looking into a mirror .

    - Ruhii


    I was going for a higher level of cynicism , but this has to do since the purpose is just marking my existence .

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  • maleficent_ 12w

    Crimson lips
    are going to be sealed ,
    stitched with rusted iron threads .
    And
    Forced to utter words of praise
    for hellfire sitting in a throne .

    Veils
    are going to be draped
    over beautiful faces to dim
    the aura of elegance
    And
    Presented before the world
    as an asset to adore

    Hands
    are going to be sliced
    diced , and thrown for wolves
    And
    demanded to pray for the life
    of what bears the message of
    death

    You
    are going to be cocooned
    by scorpion venom , licked
    by hungry dogs
    And
    left in the woods to sing
    the old ballads about angels

    I
    am going to be pushed
    to write beautiful poetries about
    things I loathe
    and people who ate my bones
    And
    I'd die slowly and wake up
    just to be killed all over again .

    ©maleficent_