Between shadows and memory, one woman’s diary elucidates relationships come and gone, those who helped shape who she is from the inside out. Turning the rain into something beautiful, the opening petals of a rose now blooming.
Veteran poet Braeden Michaels crafts his seventh collection of poetry into a mold of vision. Like pages from a twisted fairy tale, he narrates using his unique poetic style and perspective, first dissecting emotion before reconstructing and reimagining each one.
Even the devil himself chuckles The moon is carved with your lies Tangled up in your demented mind Serenaded by demonic gargoyles Stains of convoluted fairytales twitch Nightmares glide through your skull as you become the twisted spin doctor Even the devil himself despises you The haunted tree is covered in your sins Using the phrase “sick and dying” to draw attention The line for the roller coaster to hell banishes the disturbed and psychopathic rants Even the devil himself cringes at your name Fearing your chameleon sadistic skin Wallowing in your fragile bones Be careful what you curve with your tongue
Like porcelain skin wrapped in gauze Birthday tattoo displayed on her wrist Daydreams slip out on from her weeping lips Shadows blister, the monologue drowns Clasping on to “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings” in her pliable hand
And the lions on the wallpaper say her name in a chant And the ceiling is her midnight and decorated sky And the hallway reeks of discretion and tongue tied riddles And the ink she pours out never runs dry
Give me an invincible fire to stand within the pain Give me the light to crawl in the dusk
An ounce of slump and stagnation whisper Melancholy hanging over her head like a rain cloud Glaring into a closet of aberrations Atmosphere trembles, the letters trickle sanguine Twitching in the discolored oblivion
And the memories flood on to the pillow from her eyes And the moonlight that shines through her window growls And the conversations are still heard in these four walls And the ink she pours out never runs dry
Give me an invincible fire to stand within the pain Give me the light to crawl in the dusk
I’m just a silhouette situated on a cracked street corner gazing into the crevices of the cement. I’m a wanderer seeking warmth from a gentle hand. I spend too much time looking inward and only see engraved scars. I’m just a singed shadow that leaves whispers and tears for an empty sky. I find myself buried in my beloved diary. I cling to it as I cry myself to sleep as I pray to a God that is made up of sandpaper beliefs and songlike scripture.
I tend to sleep with trauma with invisible gauze and bloodshot dreams. I rationalize the hallucinations due to the measurable weight on my shoulders. I live in a household filled with indifference, butterflies circling fears, and ghosts having sarcastic conversations with each other. I carry a laugh from an ancient carnival. My mother named me after two distinguished poets. The name Sylvia Poe Chandler feels supernatural on the birth certificate. My personality is upside down and is unseeable. I scoff at normalities and jokes about what can not be changed. I loathe logic defended by agendas that are written by parasites. I am drawn to the stars have a tint of green because the moon is jealous. I am fond of the night because I can see my skeletons sipping on ignorance in the closet.
I never once believed in the elegance and fragility of love. I believe in monsters, dark side of humanity, warlords, and anguish that swallows you whole. I don’t believe in the hands of compassion nor forgiveness. I can’t believe in concepts I’ve never felt. I never once believed in angels, optimism with a silver lining, and words spoken by the rich. I believe in individuality not the mummy walking mass. I never believed in rhetoric from men wearing blue suits. I do believe someone below is smirking at my trials and tribulations. I can’t believe in fairy tales but I believe in an epilogue with a waterfall.
She calls me an infant and he calls me ungraspable. I’m a mute but the list of endless adjectives are added to the scroll. I am seeking love and affection from heathens wearing sin like a trench coat. I’m full of spite but spit out caffeinated speeches. I walk with a phantom knowing I’m contaminated. Self worth is buried in the forest of my backyard. As I walk through the woodlands I can feel the mosquitoes surrounding my significance. The closer I become my eyes swell with grief.
I am a cloud hiding behind the sun seeking a ray of hope. I have a backbone that you can’t see. I am a star gazer with drops of melancholy in my hands. I have been destroyed by my foul mouthed pro creators and poisonous ex lovers. My fate is torn but my destiny sees a rainbow from a distance.
Bitter honey, the aftertaste is drowning the affection once pure turns into ink Disjointed and spots of spite stick to my worn-down tongue, I dwell inside
I lost my existence but found my shadow I lost my fears but found my perspective I lost my pride but found my character
Even in the despair, the calm was burning
Bitter honey, the aftermath is devastating the devotion once concrete crumbles Frail and specks of turmoil rushes down my frightened throat, I wallow inside
I lost my independence but found my direction I lost my truth but discovered the lies I lost my innocence but gained my wisdom
Even in the melancholy, the silence was light
Bitter honey, the afterthoughts are distant the tenderness once snug is crippled Cracked and traces of sorrow drip from my serenading eyelashes, I cringe inside
I lost my thirst but found my hunger I lost my laughter but found the jester within I lost my ghosts but found my guardian
stomach acid gorges the frame of the picture ceramic villains stand in the center of the image credit card smiles seek the light of the troubled road wallets become empty as they cling to the objects of the room
Love was just a word to deceive
camouflaged tears reckon within the twitching of souls charades is not just a game but the poison they drank daily They laid drunk in the center of the bed photographing plastic memories
The dark side is gravitating Scrambled thoughts of my reality Playing with the toys in my closet A world you could care less Claiming to know me completely You know what you want to know My efforts to shed dead skin get unnoticed I grin on the inside of these vandalized walls We share a love that wears many disguises that you refuse to see You chose to see only a few layers of me We display a miserable performance Consistently staring into my silence I can’t make you use your tongue I will never be enough or give enough You are as broken in pieces as me You don’t know how to walk away I dare you to walk away like the rest The grin expects the unexpected Can you spell the word depression Waiting for God to take me away You will understand me when I’m dead and gone And give more of yourself to another man The dark side is gravitating
I’m not worth a penny
You won’t see any shine on me
I’m only a dot on this earth
You won’t even notice I’m here
I’m not a decoration
You won’t see that I exist
I’m only made up of coal
You won’t even notice that I’m gone
I’m just a tragedy waiting to happen
You won’t even care that I spoke
I scream in silence
To recognize that I’m alone
She will care for thirty seconds and write a novella of accusations She will pine for your sensitive hands and cry a stream of tears from a distance She will crave hours of chit chat and stare at grim skeletons in silence She will dance and twirl in the garden and be embarrassed of her defects in loneliness
“In my view, I was raped by his alluring vocabulary, molested by his wit and probed by his twinkling generosity. He turned me into a walking paradox.”
And the mystery within her dwells And the inconsistency smears her delusions And the absurdity fills her weary lungs And the enigma is like condensation And the anomaly marches within her mind
She will walk with poise and diligence and shout with obscenities doused in wildfire She will cherish the remains and residue and toss her pieces she loathes in the garbage She will wrap herself up in sanitized anxiety and chuck courage up against the wall She will run with convictions in her fist and ignore the principles that define her
And the secrecy within her is desolate And the conundrum drips frustration And the perplexity drains her focus And the complications steer her vision And the rattle stumbles within her mind
“In my perspective, I was poisoned by his compliments, fondled by his intellect and abused by his sincere confidence. He turned me into a walking paradox.”
She’s exhausted from spilling ink She’s uncertain with her fingertips She’s wobbly and shaking on the inside She’s powerless from the past She’s flimsy as a thin piece of paper Sing me a song for wide hope Sing me a song for stretched out faith
She’s frail within her bones She’s isolated from the rattle She’s licking her wounds quietly She’s aching for companionship She’s comfortless and abandoned Sing me a song for freedom Sing me a song without chains
She’s tangled up in desolation She’s withdrawn and torn down She’s a tragedy without a witness She’s reclusive and friendless She’s a sky without any clouds Sing me a song for change Sing me a song for healing
I coughed up a tangled fairy tale A translucent liquid composed of quicksand and psychedelic castles in the air Dismay biting a breeze of reverberation Lust was an unforgivable bottle of poison Trapped between sincerity and admiration
For you and the wind that wraps me up in clouds of dust, I surrender For you and the sensitivity that twinkles like a star, I surrender For you and your sacred taste of sweet affection, I surrender
Forgive me, if I need too much Forgive me, if I desire too much
Caught up in the endearing glances Unspoken words, intoxicating voice Inviting and lost in a whirlwind Confusing thoughts, mixed signals Unhinged cravings, lava sensation
For you and the wind that wraps me up in clouds of dust, I surrender For you and the sensitivity that twinkles like a star, I surrender For you and your sacred taste of sweet affection, I surrender
Forgive me, if I need too much Forgive me, if I desire too much
A wicked charm alluring Sweat pouring, rhythmic tongue “Magic not seeing what was tragic” Insatiable endless night dancing Clawing and reaching for tenderness
For you and the wind that wraps me up in clouds of dust, I surrender For you and the sensitivity that twinkles like a star, I surrender For you and your sacred taste of sweet affection, I surrender
Forgive me, if I need too much Forgive me, if I desire too much
For you and the truth, I lay awake circling my vulnerability I can taste the poison on my tongue I dwell in my pond of insecurities I gnaw at my unspoken and sedated soul I claw at my resilience with my tired fingers I pick at my invisible wounds with an axe I watch the apprehension hang over my head I whisper to my demons “listen to the crack”
I am holding your hand with one eye open a gust of change feels like a storm I’m terrified to open up both eyes to see I don’t deserve you
For you and the truth, I find myself misplaced and disoriented I spot the conditions and uncontrollable urges I removed the hindering spotlight I am haunted by my effervescent carnival I have waved goodbye to the magnetic carousel I steer toward the corridor of isolation I clutch on to the paradise dancing in your eyes I am sinking in the malevolent circus
I am holding your hand with one eye open a gust of change feels like a storm I’m terrified to open up both eyes to see I don’t deserve you
For you and the truth, I am weeping on the inside in this masquerade I am praying I will find edges of my identity I leave my pieces behind reaching for you I grip on to tomorrow and replay yesterdays I cough up the suffocating air and sorrow I choke on my frustrations and crooked thunder I see the lightning in my affliction I recognize the heartache that flickers within
I am holding your hand with one eye open a gust of change feels like a storm I’m terrified to open up both eyes to see I don’t deserve you
Between the ivory blank page and the tangle among the frozen words I grunted frustrations and dabbed my fingers in the reverberating clouds Love was written for daydreamers I vigorously plucked the petals from the fortune teller’s teary eyed rose Agony and torment stretched out along my hypersensitive spine Tenderness was shattered into fragments glaring at the distinguished pieces Astonished from the inward discovery never seeking the grace within Clarity crept in under a cherry tree
She murmured sardonic puns, three line riddles and a secret written by her morning phantom She was sipping on Coca Cola with percolating eyelashes carrying a catatonic grin I sighed “your diabolical scent is quite ravishing and eloquent”
I didn’t mean to ignite the past I didn’t mean to love you with the left eye I didn’t mean to fall so hard with a faithless romantic
She gargled bits of authenticity, lucid theories, and swallowed a vitamin of intensity She often spills her aggression, animosity, and uneven morals in her bloodhound diary I cringed “your radiant light is piercing through the thick of the night”
I didn’t mean to surrender to your heart of stone I didn’t mean to adore your nightmares I didn’t mean to wipe away the rain in the storms
She has a mystifying language drenched in symbolism and an accent with a pinch of kindness She miscalculated and misplaced the affection I gasped “your insidious magic feels like gold, makes me wonder why your story hasn’t been told”
I didn’t mean to say those words I didn’t mean to remove your veil I didn’t mean to make you so afraid
Storm of Ink 