EMO OR GOTHIC POETRY

   
 Black is the vivid picture I paint of life.

Red is the blood I shed through every slit.

Purple is what I turn when I   
suffocate myself in sorrow.

Blue is the water I pretend to drown myself in.

Gray is my grave where I will lay peacefully.

Yellow is the sun that burns through my skin with its death defying rays.

Brown is the hand I use to strangle myself tightly with.

Green is how lucky I get to have thoughts of death.

White is what I turn when I feel every scar of hatred.     
  
Fantasies that run through my mind of all these colors painting their marks on my naked canvas.

Each stroke of color painting its meaning on my body.

 Each color possessing me to forever live my life in utter turmoil.

Each color slicing my body open to enter its poison into my veins.

Making a florescent rainbow inside of me.    

 Black is the bruise on my eyes.

Red is my dynamite of a heart that is about to explode.

Purple is what I get when I can't breath from demons forever chasing me.

Blue is my tears that turn to acid.

 Gray is life that has no meaning through my vision.

Yellow is the bright light known as the afterlife.

Brown is the mud that people constantly walk all over me in.

Green is the grass that dies when I step on it.

White is the paper that I am without ink all over me.    

 Every emotion and every thought is a beautiful nightmare.

Blood turning into a stream of colors flowing down to my black heart.

I must have gold like a leprechaun is jumping inside of me.

No matter what colors are inside of me nothing can stop the dark soul that brews inside of me.

 Slowly letting the demons inside of me to control my existence.  

  With every sadistic color taking a tour of my body I start to feel a burst of sunshine come over me.

I feel as though I should cut out my black whole of a heart and throw it in a fiery furnace to burn in to ashes.

Colors start to be my new best friend turning my soul around.

No more damp days and nights being soaked in my conscience.

No more demons eating away at me. Only beautiful colors feeding my thirsts for reality and sanity.

"The biological rarity captivates each freak of nature."
-- the Coney Island Sideshow by the Seashore
 
*
 
The creeping creepy creep show's cryptic carny crook and con
descending silhouettes bedimmed from out a darkling gloom
on creatures cracked and crazed encaged a living silence don
a worm bit costume stitched to bear beyond the clap of Doom
till relic time worn rusty creaking open Cruelty's doors
to stale salt peanuts popcorn jelled and thread spun sugar sell
while walking shadows strut on fretted barf beer cig butt shores
yet dotting oceans vast and deep wherein the monsters dwell
grotesques boxed up boxed in by backdrop backup thugs and screams
revulsion shudder shock shriek howl of laughter chilling thrill
and Murder moving in to circle slow the tusker dreams
each harvest turnip carving sliced in Gothic overkill --
and not one freak faint mercy feels beneath the drooling rain
as each dread thing reborn is on the coming Horror's pain.
 
*  
 
a dedication of Respect
for
the Suffering of each past, present, and future
''elephant'' baby
 
a revolving helios sonnet menippean satire on
natalism --
the ideology hubristic of countless doctors
unlicensed --
each named
"Frankenstein"  
 
march, 2023 -- the resurgence of carnival "freak shows" doing a business
brisk
 
. . .
 
feetnote
 
According to the blithely optimistic MedlinePlus,  
Proteus Syndrome --  
commonly called "The Elephant Man" disease --  
happily is a rare condition with a  
felicitous incidence of less than 1 in 1 million infants worldwide,
blessedly having affected  
"only a few hundred" cherubs --  
to date.