Exclusive Ink

Tag: daezy

  • DEFINE LOVE

    by DAEZY

    A train wreck or mass emotion
    Collides with the feeling of
    Emptiness held deep within the
    Rainbow of colors within your eyes

    If you channel it, you will sink to your demise.
    Lift your head to your heart
    And find the key to
    Your hidden emotion

    You know?
    The one you keep
    Locked away, like money in a safe
    And treasure, buried in a dead landscape

    You know what I’m talking about!
    It’s the thing you call love!
    The one you abuse,
    The one you say you treasure, but just

    Throw away, and take for granted.
    You know?
    “Age ain’t nothing but a number, and the game ain’t
    Nothing but a thing?”

    That’s how you’re lured into
    The trap of an evil
    So powerful and vile
    It becomes an addiction

    That you won’t break, no matter
    How hard you try.
    You want it.
    You need it.

    The harder you fall,
    The harder it is to return from
    The deep bright pit of
    Illusion you call love.

    Love?
    It’s a word.
    It’s an emotion.
    It’s a sickness.

    We love it,
    But love,
    Hates
    Us.

  • POPULARITY

    by DAEZY

    I tried.
    Sometimes I think I try too hard,
    but Hell,
    I try don’t I?

    I work my way down
    to worse than scum on the bottom of your shoe.
    I work my way up,
    and my trying leaves me feeling blue.

    My 20/20 glasses broke,
    so now I’m stuck a 20/40 lazy eyed,
    but you look at me and say,
    “Damn, she’s got pretty eyes!”

    I tweet what I ate for breakfast
    not because I like,
    but just because I’m mindless.
    And like my mind controlled drones, you follow.

    I’m sucked deep into an abyss of
    attention and bliss.
    But the sad thing about it is,
    I hate what I’ve become.

    You follow who I’m listening too,
    what I’m wearing,
    what I’m eating,
    and if I’m sharing.

    But in the end, what have you become?
    Mindless, like me.
    So I re-begin the journey to work my way BACK to scum.
    Why?

    Because I LIKE being a reject!
    Because I LIKE being able to be myself!
    Because I LIKE having true friends!
    BECAUSE I LIKE ME!

    I’m your four-eyed nerd.
    Your wrack-a-doodle poindexter.
    Your scummy shoe, and
    YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE!

    Besides,
    It’s always the quiet
    ones you have to
    look out for.

  • PREFACE TO MIDNIGHT’S PLEA

    by DAEZY

    I felt a cold wind break through the room. I couldn’t tell where I was. All I know is that I’m strapped to a wooden chair with unbreakable latches. I thrashed at the arms of the chair, trying to slip out, but their grip was more complex than I thought. The lights flickered to life, and the room frightened me. I knew this room well. The Chamber. The room was a bright shade of baby blue, with brown and black dirt on the wall, and floor. On my left side I saw a window. The window took up an entire side where a wall should have been. The long frame seemed to look connected to his body. He snickered, and promised everything was going to be alright. He would make the voices stop. He lies, just so he can try his bizarre treatments on me. He smiled and said, “Its okay, Midnight. I will make the voices stop if you work with me.” I could hear a smile of doubt in his voice. “Take the pain. Own it. It will help you.” The hanging light swung above me, threatening to fall and crush me. I wish it would. But the iron holding it up was going to restrain. Just like these latches. “The voices will stop. Take the pain, dear.” His deep, tenor voice throbbed, and a wiggle of pleasure shook through him. His black boots shuddered, and his white lab coat wiggled off his shoulders slightly. He swiftly tossed it on his shoulders, and a big smile spread across his white lips. His lips were framed by a fire orange goatee. It was the perfect evil look for an evil person. “I have you now, Midnight.”

    It was very quick. He pressed an invisible button, and big jolts of electricity ripped through my veins. I launched my head back, and threw my torso into the air. My legs scratched the blue marble floor. The shocks ripped through me, but the voices wouldn’t stop. 2/15/45 Rebecca Alice Martin. 9/21/23 Terrence Allen Walters. 7/6/34 Alex Juan Mist. The voices seemed to run together. The voices told me when these strangers would… die.

    The shocks stopped, but the pain cut deep into me. My breath became uneven, and my heart accelerated, still trying to push out the shock. 11/19/24 Max Martin Esquire. It was his date with fate. I wanted him to know my pain. “Max Martin Esquire, November 19th, 2024!” I yelled. My breathing accelerated again. He started the shocks, and I screamed from the top of my lungs, repeating his name and last date.

    He turned an invisible dial, and the shocks grew more unbearable. I screamed, and thrashed at the chair, but the latches kept my hands and head in place. I couldn’t move or get away from the pain. It was a frightening experience.

    My wild, now shoulder length hair frenzied in, like the wind was blowing it. My lips curled behind my teeth, and a growl ripped through my throat. It was animal-like, and frightening. My legs wanted to spring, but I was trapped in a wooden chair with iron latches that threatened to cut off my hands. I was trapped to be tortured by my mind, and my crypt keeper. . .

  • THE WORD MASTER

    by DAEZY

    Words
    Like fireflies
    Always easy to catch and misinterpret.
    Like rumors.

    I am the word master.
    Let me spin you a tail out of the midst of my mad mind.
    Off the top of my head
    just like that.

    A mother puts her child to bed
    and kisses her goodnight.
    Once down the hall she hears a scream.
    Her child’s been stolen,

    WHAT A FRIGHT!
    Her bones turn to ice
    and she’s cold to the core.
    Her husband say’s “it’s alright!”

    She wants lies no more!
    Rumor has it, he’s been hiding the child
    in a cabin that’s quite near.
    Sad and desperate the mother searches

    and finds what’s been missing all these years….
    See, see?
    The quality of mystery?
    How your brain is now jumping like a dolphin doing circus tricks?

    How your eyes are wide open, waiting to hear the end of this?
    But I am the master,
    I am in control.
    I tell you to jump,
    you jump!

    I tell you to climb
    you climb!
    With my magical pen, and my brain full of tricks
    I write out your life,

    The word master!

  • I HAVE SEEN…I HAVE BEEN SCARED

    by DAEZY

    I was five years old
    an innocent, harmless child,
    not a care in my world,
    my universe.

    My grandmothers were rocks,
    one great, one mother.
    They gave me the confidence to
    not feel like an alien
    (not of this world).

    The one great?
    She’s gone…
    Gone like a toy you’ll never find,
    a puzzle piece dumped in the garbage.

    The worst part?
    I remember the morning.
    Why?
    Because I was right next to her,
    blissfully sleeping and oblivious.

    That night…
    That night…
    I saw the face of death.
    And he’s…he’s not a skeleton.

    He’s not even a he.

    Wings so white, they shine like the heavens,
    a cloak of white, gliding beneath its feet.
    But its face…
    Too cruelly beautiful to describe,
    too absently horrid to remember.

    I have seen the face of God,
    not man,
    not woman,
    but all perfection and glory (intimidating).

    War.
    I have seen war.
    I’m sure it was a dream, but
    it seemed too real…

    angels fighting for her soul,
    demons dragging her down,
    the devil’s arms around me, telling me,
    “So, so pure. I’ll take you with glory.”

    And then…
    And then…
    And then…
    I woke up.

    And the great one was dead
    right next to me…
    Sure didn’t go peacefully, but
    for then, I was almost complete,
    but then, a year later my grandmother died…

    Another story, but
    she went the same,
    stolen by death, taken in her sleep.
    My grandmothers’ last words?
    “Live…for me.”