cassandra-deboyd

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: Death, Mentions of hurting oneself, Alcoholism, and Sexual Abuse.

Title: onion

Layer

Cold piercing eyes and growling teeth,

A voice as sharp as stone,

Barking orders trapped in a corner,

Panic and rage bubble in my throat,

Get back. Stay away. I bite.

No, it can’t be, deeper.

Layer

A stone wall, nearly fifteen feet high,

Shifting eyes and fangs,

A low growl emits from deep in my ribcage,

A warning and a promise,

Anger and uncertainty claw at my throat,

Get back. How’s the weather? I bite.

No, it can’t be, deeper.

Layer

Was it around the time my mom died?

Or was it perhaps,

Around the time my aunt stole?

Sullen eyes and a quivering jaw,

Bloodshot eyes hide secrets,

Baggy clothes and disbelief,

Uncertainty and pain,

At war with my tonsils,

Get back, please. How are you? I don’t wanna hurt you.

No, it can’t be, deeper.

Layer

In the shower, scrubbing away phantom hands,

Sullen and sunken eyes and voice hardly audible,

Shaking legs and a cold body,

Disheveled hair and a haunted look,

Pain and hatred slosh around my soft pallet,

Please, gods, get away from me. Don’t touch me don’t come near me don’t touch me-

No, it can’t be, deeper.

Layer

A maid,

Picking up beer bottles,

Cleaning up vomit from the yellow walls,

Cooking for the adults and kids,

A ghost and a shell,

Hollow eyes that seldom move,

Cracked lips and silence,

My moms 6 months of toper,

A painted face at school,

I'm tired, I don't care much anymore.

No, it can't be, deeper.

Layer

A rock,

Something to lean on,

Strength,

Misty eyes surround me,

The preacher says a few words,

My father lay cold in his casket,

Why didn't they put a blanket in there with him?

Sobs of grieving,

If not me then who?

Come here and let me hold you, you'll be alright, hush now; rest.

No, it can't be, deeper.

Layer

Happy eyes and a heart of gold,

Excitement courses through my veins,

I'm surprised the makeshift swing can hold me,

My father works on the newest traded-in truck,

My mother sits inside on her computer,

The only thing on my mind is when is supper,

Hello! Nice to meet you! Wanna play?

Close, but not quite, deeper.

Layer

Coloring,

Tag,

Hide and seek,

Bright eyes and love,

A soft voice and a smaller body,

A gentle soul, pure and untouched,

Gullible and happy,

Moving from house to house,

State to state,

How lovely it is to travel,

Hiya, wanna color with me? I don't mind sharing!

There I am, I've missed her.

Core.

-Witten by me.

[cassandra-deboyd]

Title: 4:00-4:30am

4am and the world is quiet,

A bittersweet silence falls upon the air,

The broken-hearted,

Lonely,

Afraid,

Dreamers,

And love sick,

Are awake.

Oh to be loved completely and whole,

To be held with velvet gloves,

To have every vein upon the neck kissed tenderly,

To be understood entirely and still loved,

To be lauded and promised attempts,

Kiss every inch of flesh and not flinch,

Hold me close and need me closer,

Tell me I am not a burden and I’ll return the favor,

Oh to be listened to and not just heard,

To be aimlessly touched,

To be tugged close to a warm accepting body,

To have someone worship the ground I walk,

Steal my breaths and give me yours,

Let’s dissolve into the sheets,

Let your arms be a place of safety,

Oh to be honest and unconditional,

To be reassured of your worth,

To be sure that everything willingly goes to plan,

Let me have and hold your heart and soul,

Let me see the deepest depths of you,

And love them anyway.

Oh to be loved completely and whole,

To be myself without fear,

Give me a peaceful place when the world feels like war,

I’ll return that favor ten fold,

Give me you and I’ll give you me.

It’s 4:30am and the world is quiet,

A bittersweet silence still hangs in the air,

The broken-hearted,

Lonely,

Afraid,

Dreamers,

And love sick,

Are awake.

Can you tell which I am?

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

Title: “Nutri Grain Blueberry Breakfast Bar”

Taste and memory.

A waterfall in between your jaws,

Your mouth fills with saliva,

Long before you eat your favorite meal.

Your tastebuds already know.

It remembers the delicacy.

Dates and eyes.

Your vision will blur,

Long before you figure out,

Exactly why you’re crying,

Your body already knows.

It remembers the trauma.

Fractured minds and bodies.

Your vocal cords will dance,

As your tongue works,

To depreciate one’s self,

Long before you realize it’s happening.

Your brain believes every word.

It remembers what was once said too often.

Icons and hope.

Unloved and broken,

You’ll jump through hoops and change,

To be just like them,

Long before you realize it.

You pray to be loved like them.

You remember the praise they get and would die to get a fraction.

Greed and power.

The poor defend the weak,

From the rich and hateful,

United they stand to tear them down,

Long before they realize they’ve even stood.

The poor know it’s the only way.

The rich will remember the day they messed with us.

Women and men.

In their thrones built upon lies,

They sneer as they snatch rights away,

The women at their gate are wolves,

And will tear them apart before they realize it.

We will fight and stand.

We remember the days we weren’t free, and will do anything to change it.

Isn’t it funny how good we remember?

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: Mentions of cutting, Abuse, Manipulative behavior, Death.

Title: Through the Years

10 years old,

My hopes slowly fading,

The light behind my eyes, dimming.

I miss you father.

I am scared.

I am sad.

I am confused.

I show no one.

They need me,

They all need me,

They need me to be strong.

So I fight.

11 years old,

My body boasts,

Patches of navy, wine, and iodine,

Rivers of ruby red.

Did I deserve this fate?

I am scared.

I am mad.

I am confused.

Cold and empty,

A car stalled on a highway,

Broken down.

Still, I fight.

12 years old,

Locked in a room.

The screams echo the walls,

As do the ones clawing at my throat.

I am scared.

I am sad.

Mother, brother, why?

Mother, uncle, why?

Curled into a ball,

On my mattress of brick,

I hope for it to end,

Still I fight.

13 years old,

Mother why do you hate your creation?

You lie and say you love me,

I know it not to be true.

I am scared.

I am angry.

I am tired.

The screams clawed their way out.

Aconite in my veins,

A fire in my eyes,

A stone cold soul,

Still I fight.

14 years old,

The fire dies out.

Hyacinths grow in my veins,

Sorrow envelops my soul,

I am scared.

I am depressed.

I am anxious.

Why must life be cruel?

Not my arms, my thighs,

They won't check there.

I'm sorry mother, I'm sorry father.

Still I fight. Barely.

15 years old.

Sorrow. Grief. The hardest thing I've ever had to do.

Losing you wasn't easy.

I'm sorry it had to end this way.

I am scared.

I am lonely.

I am grieving.

Mother come back.

A 180 my life turned,

Who are these people?

Why must I stay here.

Still. I fight.

16 years old.

I never thought I'd make it this far.

New clothes and money to spend.

A caring lover to hold and be held by.

I am happy.

I am greatful.

I am comfortable.

Hardships come and leave.

Good things blossom from loss,

I am still trying to survive,

The grief hasn't left, but it's getting easier.

I will continue to fight.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: Mentions of death.

A little fun with latin and english. The latin may not be 100% correct and for that I apologize, the translation is below the line.

Title: The Fall From Grace.

Flashback to tomorrow,

The thoughts of yesterday keep me awake,

Caelum awaits on the wings of time,

Christe eleison but lord strike me down,

Auxilium, my mind wanders,

Down the stairs and along the road,

Vetiti ruinas along the way,

Shaping my rebellion and dispair.

Kyrie eleison, christ has forgotten me,

Somewhere in the mist of sin,

I've re-enacted the favorite,

Fallen so low.

Life? Death? I'll take the ladder.

Using it to climb out from the flames;

My hope and anxiety from an ancient society,

Crafted by misplaced love.

Caelum auxilium the fool who falls in love,

With their own cadere,

The burns have since healed,

The scars on cor meum have not.

Kyrie eleison, I wish I couldn't memento it.

Me dolet.

×××××× Translation ×××××××

Flashback to tomorrow,

The thoughts of yesterday keep me awake,

Heaven awaits on the wings of time,

Christ have mercy but lord strike me down,

Help, my mind wanders,

Down the stairs and along the road,

Forbidden ruins along the way,

Shaping my rebellion and dispair.

Lord have mercy, christ has forgotten me,

Somewhere in the mist of sin,

I've re-enacted the favorite,

Fallen so low.

Life? Death? I'll take the ladder.

Using it to climb out from the flames;

My hope and anxiety from an ancient society,

Crafted by misplaced love.

Heaven help the fool who falls in love,

With their own fall,

The burns have since healed,

The scars on my heart have not.

Lord have mercy, I wish I couldn't remember it.

It hurts.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: death, mentions of suicide.

Title: Drip

Drip, drip, drip,

The pain that squeezes my heart,

Drips out all the same,

A slow steady pace,

Almost a year ago did start,

If theres a God above,

Why did he throw this hurt upon me?

I see the days drip by,

Stolen and solem,

No more memories to be,

I wish, I wish, I wish,

With every candle on the cake,

The memories were real,

The time was still in place,

The time drip, drip, drips, and takes,

But now the lake is almost full,

The grief is no longer bareable,

The pain snakes around my bones,

Steeling it's thorns in the carcass of my wounds,

Breaking my mask down quite terrible,

It soon breaks free,

Forming a river,

That carves ruts in my cheeks,

As the memories come,

Drip, drip, dripping down the sliver.

How hard it is to focus,

While I'm sitting in class,

My thoughts run wild,

My feelings drip down the page,

My fault she even passed,

They say home is where the heart is,

Well my heart was with you,

You were a good person,

I sit in this hell,

To be my home, this cant be true.

Drip, drip, drip,

Do the tears fall,

How I wish you could hold me,

And make it all alright again,

But now I cant bother at all.

To hold myself upright,

A task I cant manage,

Yet I'm expected to go to school,

Pretend to be happy and full,

Yet I walk the halls famished.

Too little,

Too less,

Too stupid,

Too much,

How I wish to be laid to rest.

Let it all just go away instead.

All this grief in my head.

-Written by me.

Authors note!: This is NOT a suicide note nor is it anything hinting at me wanting to commit it. Simply a creative writing piece. :)

[cassandra-deboyd]

Title: QUESTIONS FOR THE ARCHANGEL LUCIFER

How broken must he have felt?

How cold did his heart become?

How quickly, is the better question,

Did his chest rise and fall,

As he layed on the ground,

After falling from such a height.

How hot his wings?

After being scorched from the fall?

Even though they're burned,

And torn,

And a little broken,

They're probably still beautiful.

Maybe not as pure,

As divine,

As pristine;

How could they be?

But beautiful in the way,

Of survival.

Of fight.

Of becoming.

A renaissance of sort,

The light his father tried to force away,

Now shining through,

A blaze of fury and hellfire,

Of disbelief and suffering.

How did he survive?

People think he burns hot,

I believe the opposite is true.

His cold heart in his cold chest,

Blindly grasping with cold fingertips,

Gasping, rasping, choking,

He's not like they say,

"A little red man with horns and a tail,"

He's not red, nor little.

And he's beautiful,

By God, is he beautiful,

How can something be so poison but tasty?

No horns, but a cracked in half halo,

That sits gingerly upon his head,

They may paint the idea of horns,

But horns he has not.

A tail he has not.

But his smile, his godforsaken smile,

Brings me to my knees everytime,

And his eyes; sharp, cold, unforgiving,

A window to the soul;

Broken, hurt, afraid,

He doesn't want to get hurt again,

How could I blame him?

It's why he flinches when I call him my favorite,

When his stance is tense and waiting to run,

Is before I hug him,

Abused, not physically; mentally, emotionally.

How does an archangel love?

How does an archangel feel?

Does he feel, is the better question,

Wrong when he holds me?

Happy when I leave?

He tells me my arms feel like heaven,

Uncanny enough,

I believe thats why he runs from them,

Calls me names like angel, dove; calls me a goddess.

He tells me my arms feel like heaven,

When will he come home?

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: Suggestive suicide, mention of lost loved ones

Title: Home is Equal to Greif.

Repeat, repeat, repeat,

Day in, day out.

The good, the bad, the holy unholy.

Spiraling, in control and out,

Truth a mistake,

I miss the way she held me,

The smoke, the coffee, the grease covered shirt,

Covering lies, I miss his smile,

The fleeting and reoccuring feeling of aching to be holy,

Crashes with waves on a shore, often and not,

To jump into the void of selfishness,

Grief isnt a color I wear well,

It stains me, drains me,

My bed has become my casket,

I've forgotten,

Their voice,

Their face,

Their laugh,

Come home I whisper to the stars,

Hoping they'll hear me,

Hoping they'd bring them back,

Come home whisper the stars,

Please let me,

I'd jump at the chance.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW?: Sad, Hinting at things

Title: Drowning in Myself

Can you see it in the reflection of broken diamonds?

A fever dream, a comatose, an overdose.

Something so far and close I dont understand,

Whirling, twirling, spinning out of control,

Quicker does the navy stain the crisp vibrant sails of happiness,

Pulling it under with my soul and breathless heartbeats,

Someone save me,

It's been a few months since I've been myself,

A broken wall and a shattered cup, my reflection wavers,

Who is she? Why is she?

Feather like do I rest upon my bed,

Now a casket for my hallowed out corpse,

The nails in the wood hold me down,

The wretched spikes stain my soul red,

Howd I forget to breathe?

In a canopy of distant sunlight I ache,

Longing for something to save me,

From myself, from the golden wings of death,

From the thoughts inside my head.

Hold me close and let me go, goodbye again,

bargaining for the right to be remembered,

Dont think it's fine, dont think it's your fault,

For as long as my memory allows,

I've been this way.

Or perhaps, upon the wings of righteousness,

I've been neglected.

Quite possibly, I was treasured once.

I was held close with love weaved in my soul.

I cant remember.

Someone save me,

It's been a few years since I've been myself.

But then again, who am I?

I cant remember.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: body/weight problems

Title: Porcelain and Perfect

tiny and skinny, stick figure pretty,

porcelain skin, soft glowing cheeks,

her dewy complexion, rose water eyes,

drink me up and watch me die,

thighs too thick, stomach too much,

(ragged breath draws ragged touch)

XL fits a bit big, baggy hides flaws of skin,

sitting in the arms of daybreak, aching to be whole,

to be so effortlessly faultless and flawless,

To flow with grace like coursing water,

how I wish to be ethereal like them,

the pretty girls with porcelain skin.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: death, suicide.

Title: My History is Mine to Erase.

You die twice.

When they lower you into the grave,

And when they stop mentioning your name.

To be remembered is a wonderful thing,

So tell me how long it'll be before I'm forgotten.

Before the flesh even rots off my body?

My bones turn to ash?

When?

Preach, praise, lord have mercy,

To any God that'll listen.

Naive little thing,

burning down churches in your saivors name,

You can't watch the world burn and be slathered in forgiveness.

It is one or the other, set in stone,

Call it something sweet for something so vile;

Fate,

Destiny,

Something you can't escape from,

Sweeping under quicksand, silent in your stolen breaths,

Scream, beg, rip your vocal cords out and use them to tie your noose,

Your history is erased, nothing more nothing less,

Old with nothing to remember,

Too careful for memories,

Living once dying twice,

Three seconds from misery,

For the right to write our rights and wrongs,

How cruel the fight, how freeing the flight,

You cant miss what you never had,

Tell me then is that why I cant fathom love?

Here one moment and gone the next,

A faded memory, nothing important,

Feeling so worthless, disoriented, exhausted,

Goodnight and goodbye my love.

You die twice,

When they lower you into your grave,

And when the stop mentioning your name,

Here comes the first.

-Written by me

Authors note!: This is NOT a suicide note nor is it anything hinting at me wanting to commit it. Simply a creative writing piece. :)

[cassandra-deboyd]

Title: House of Memories

Macabre,

When I was 10,

I was 11,

I was only 15,

Whispers of soulless forms waft through the walls of the house,

Tears hitting the pillowcase as soft as a bomb,

Blowing up in my face, mind blown, too soon,

The fights, screaming, crying, hate, hate, hate,

In every room, something of malice,

Disbelief chasing righteousness,

Moss has grown upon my bones,

The hole in the roof got bigger a couple summers back,

Antichrist fueled by antidepressants,

Poltergeist, caged in my house of memories,

Locked soul upon the windowsill chasing stars,

Kyrie eleison, let me rest, let me rest, let me rest,

Sacred sins bounce off the heartstrings of my own,

Renaissance, forgive me, I've changed,

Neon colors and a black and white filter,

Bring me back, this house is not a home.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: Hints of abuse!

Title: When Will the Memories End?

Reliving memories has always been my downfall,

something far from now, too remote to grasp,

yet, it's here in an instant. 

Unpleasant; too understated.

Chains me to my lush bed of stone,

overwhelmed lungs; blood sloshes around its container,

heart attacks me in the clear; worry, worry, worry,

the waterfall starts; follows the canyons in my cheeks;

it knows too well what to do from here,

when will it all end?

all the f

          a

         l

        l

       i

     n

   g

every memory tainted with malice,

whiskey, glass shards; hands, hands, hands,

Shouting; running; crying; stop please

The present; he cant hurt you now, he cant hurt you now, he cant hurt you now,

They're healed, I can still feel them,

Bruises; cuts; reddened skin;

When will it stop hurting?

In due time, my love.

What time?

Mine or yours?

Time will tell the stories of old,

And time will give me the answer untold,

  E v e n t u a l l y,  m y  d e a r.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

Title: Fleeting Memories

As a ripened pear dangles on a fragile branch, 

too elevated to grab; teasing, taunting

throughout the seasons, it decomposes,

withers endlessly; shrivels and expires;

it falls to the ground, the faint thud audible for miles,

when trees topple in a forest, the earth shatters.

A fragile equilibrium; force and freedom,

mercy never happens without an expense,

whatever could've been, now a fleeting memory.

 

I feed the wolf inside my throat,

in quieting hopes, it won't rip out my larynx,

how beautifully did it bite the hand that supplied it life,

words erratic, barking out my truth, fanged smirk astray,

quickly, quietly, falling backward into the shadows,

trying desperately to tame the beast; before it damages another,

pulling the sheepskin over my eyes, I'm back on the chase,

whatever could've been, now a fleeting memory.

a feather falling, soft as silk, longer than my forearm,

a primary, falling archangel; seraphim; 

a brilliant shade of white, so pretty before the fall,

in a crater of question and disbelief; weren't you the favorite?

Immortality comes at a cost; stripped of your senses; you fall from mercy,

the world sees a monster; I see someone worthy of love.

Funny how similar you are to Icarus, straying from leadership,

broken and burned; him in flight, you cast away.

Whatever could've been, now a fleeting memory.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

Title: Mating With an Angel

The scent of broken promises and falling feathers,

Loving an angel is tough.

All mercury and moonlight, every touch sets you aflame.

The smell of books, alleyways at night, cold lava and crested sea,

Every cell screams.

The urge to be holy brings you back to the void,

Around the time you parents passed,

Then your uncles, aunts, grandparents,

All gone. An instant and an eternity.

Breathing in his scent like a person who's almost drowned,

Gasping, grasping, dying as an immortal,

Longing to cry but the feeling of rage to overbearing

Stardust and cigarette smoke, how devilishly his halo shines,

Feathers spread across your bedsheets,

Moaning hyms and sacred text, through the tears; the sweat,

His touch burning with delight, eyes shining; Christmas lights; cold snow in December.

Rolling off of you and falling into your mouth,

Eyes heavy, touch sensitive and stolen,

Otherworldly and ethereal, strung together and away,

Crashing into place, the city has become increasingly vulnerable,

Everything acutely painful, coarse and tired.

Sipping the intoxication of his hands,

His fucking hands,

Jesus, please.

Dont wake me up.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: sensitive topics i.e mentions of rape, PTSD, etc.

Title: A Few Years

Calloused lips and bruised eyes,

Tell me why I flinch at the touch of purity,

No seemingly wasnt a word in your vocabulary,

I give in; scared; broken; I dont want you to take it,

Please dont fucking touch me,

Shaking; cold; it hurts still and it's been a few years;

Scrubbing the memories of your hands from my skin;

The growls and groans and whimpers;

How sinfully sweet you thought it to be,

Broke my hymen; broke my heart; my voice broke in my throat;

Coarse; cracked; hollow; empty;

It hurts still and it's been a few years,

The nightmares, how come they dont get you too?

I was your fever dream, a notch upon your belt you can flaunt,

Your wicked smile sits in the back of my mind,

Your voice carries through silent hallways,

They believed you over me, it hurts still and it's been a few years.

-Written by me

[cassandra-deboyd]

TW: Sensitive Topics

Title: The 5 Stages of 'I Need You Back'.

I am no stranger to the decay of everything good and golden,

The lies that seep out through the cracks of society;

Made their home in the carcass of my heart,

Worrisome tangles of thoughts spin like rolling thunder,

Fists balled and broken; fighting a war no one can see.

The bubbling rage like cold brew in the crisp red light of the morning,

Inhaling smoke from a bowl, how beautiful does something labeled so wrong grow.

A memory cast out in the street as I run from my feelings,

My thighs tingling (I'd assume) the same way hers did,

Mine from cuts hers from that memory; needles and not so clean sugar.

Twisted does the nightshade on my bedside table grows,

It wraps around my cold heart to find warmth in the anger,

The scars on my soul reflect the same hue,

Red and black and blue; beaten and bloodied.

F+; theres always good in the bad; someone tell me where.

It's been 5 years searching through thickets, help me

11:23; you both went too soon.

Faded hopes of what might have been sits in the place of you.

The ghost of grief holds me at night; boy is it heavy.

Cigarettes and coffee cups; grease and laughter;

The brightest smile I've ever seen; gone too soon.

Suffocating; father come back; you couldnt breathe but neither can I,

The bone shattering sadness is too much to bear,

Your little girl needs you; where are you father; where are you mother?

-Written by me