Your lips still glisten with the sin of adultry; i remember the first time i kissed you.
Promising between awkwardly timed breaths that he would never have to know.
He'll never know.
He'll never know.
For one night only, our makeshift cover fort served as a Garden of Eden.
She who comes from Adam's rib, serpent tounge, waggling, Macintosh resides between my thighs...eat me.
Hickies strewn across my neck like your grandmother's pearls; I Am Yours.
His eyes burrow into my soul, as if he knows something i dont.
I think he knows.
I think he knows.
One night stands on frilly pink pillows, turn into, two night stands on your parent's bed that turn into, three night stands at the Quality Inn, that turn into, oh damn, just not giving a fuck, putting our bedroom scenes on display at a local park.
Everybody knows.
Everybody knows.
I knew it.
I knew it was you, before anybody said anything about nothing.
I knew.
The faint gleam of Lucifer's smile behind his eyes said everything before his mouth did.
"I killed that bitch!"
Everything goes black.
My eyes are closed, yet i can still see you clear as day.
I'm resting my head on your shoulders, our intertwined legs dangle, hanging beneath the porch swing.
We laugh.
Steady day dreaming about owning that karaoke bar down in Memphis.
We smile.
Perfecting our accents, preparing for the move.
We let our words roll from our mouths, smooth and slow, like Southerners do.
I open my eyes.
He stands there.
Still.
With the blood of you on his hands.
I walk away, smiling, because he could never be you.
© Malix Mechü
[This poem is based on the flim "Boys Don't Cry"]
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Saturday, January 28, 2012
You make me smile. :)
I'm sure we've all at least once have come across someone on the street that says "Smile. Don't look so down. Smile!"I wish I could make this face whenever that happens. I'm not mad, I'm listening to Children of Bodom on my mp3 player....leave me alone.
-Allison
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
A little out of whack.
"We're all pretty bizarre. Some of us are just better at hiding it, that's all."- The Breakfast Club
Malix's "odd" tattoo done at Enigma.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Photo Bloggin' -Take 1-
No one really wants your help...
"It's the same with these suicide girls calling me up. Most of them are so young. Crying with their hair wet down in the rain at a public telephone, they call me to the rescue. Curled in a ball alone in bed for days, they call me. Messiah. They call me. Savior. They sniff and choke and tell me what I ask for in every little detail." - Chuck Palahniuk "Survivor"-Allison
Lizards and Airplanes(God looks like Tammy Faye)
The original aim behind this piece was to just draw lips with some random designs on them. How this happened...I don't know. LSD anyone?-Allison
Sunday, January 22, 2012
"A Mocking Bird's Wake"
My love for you has grown into some type of sick obsession.
Since the day you left me, I've been scribbling hate-fueled love poems dedicated to you on decaying stalls in the girls bathroom.
I'd do anything to taste your kiss.
I wanna let my fingernails scale down your spine, leaving scratches, welps, deeper than any sinkhole known to man.
And when your girlfriend back home is disrobing you, ready to partake in the act of bodies becoming one, and asks you where you got them, lie barbarically, and tell her your cat did it.
I sit alone, in my homemade bathtub sanctuary, with nothing more than a bottle full of my favorite fruity poison, and a hand, filled with my dignity and my ego.
I'd sit up all night, drinking til the horses, the ducks, the pigs, and the cows come home, inputting a 1+ area code followed by seven numbers in sequential order...as long as it would lead me to your voice on the other line.
I'm way too proud to beg, for you, I grovel.
To relieve the pain of losing you, cold metal blades to wrist, RED!, does no good for me.
You see, baby, in order to recover from a heartbreak from a first love, it is you, that will have to do the cutting.
I give you the honor of administering Wolfgang Amadeus Mozarts, Violin Concerto #4 in D Major to my wrists and hands, decapitate the one thing, other than my heart, that I wanted you to hold.
"This the way they'd love, if they knew how misery loved me."
© Malix Mechü
Since the day you left me, I've been scribbling hate-fueled love poems dedicated to you on decaying stalls in the girls bathroom.
I'd do anything to taste your kiss.
I wanna let my fingernails scale down your spine, leaving scratches, welps, deeper than any sinkhole known to man.
And when your girlfriend back home is disrobing you, ready to partake in the act of bodies becoming one, and asks you where you got them, lie barbarically, and tell her your cat did it.
I sit alone, in my homemade bathtub sanctuary, with nothing more than a bottle full of my favorite fruity poison, and a hand, filled with my dignity and my ego.
I'd sit up all night, drinking til the horses, the ducks, the pigs, and the cows come home, inputting a 1+ area code followed by seven numbers in sequential order...as long as it would lead me to your voice on the other line.
I'm way too proud to beg, for you, I grovel.
To relieve the pain of losing you, cold metal blades to wrist, RED!, does no good for me.
You see, baby, in order to recover from a heartbreak from a first love, it is you, that will have to do the cutting.
I give you the honor of administering Wolfgang Amadeus Mozarts, Violin Concerto #4 in D Major to my wrists and hands, decapitate the one thing, other than my heart, that I wanted you to hold.
"This the way they'd love, if they knew how misery loved me."
© Malix Mechü
"Pinnochio's Bride"
My feelings for you go farther back then the food stamp line on the first of the month.
Our relationship was a shared bottle of Gin at 12a.m. while sitting on your back porch steps over looking the patches
in your backyard where our mangled childhood is buried.
And I love how your kisses always tasted like sugar cookies.
I recall a time, when we were 13, an impromtu game of Spin The Bottle united our lips for the first time...you
promised we would be inseperable, from that day on...You lied.
You were my firsts.
First kiss.
First love.
First fuck.
It shouldn't be this easy for two bodies to become one.
I watched nervously, tugging at my lips with my teeth as you made your way inside of me. Slurs of "fuck" "damn" and "shit" fall from your lips. I catch them with my tongue, and take a deep breath.
As we made the beast with two backs, I cried silently, listening in as your mother was being beat mercilisly by your
to father. To him, she was just a punching bag with a pulse.
We came. And I prayed under my breath that our love would never become that...
It's been 5 years and I can't decifer if this pain in my chest is just heartache, or the beginning stages of the Ebola virus.
I used to fold my heart, oragami bird style just to fit the moods you were in. Your temper was filled with more fire than the devils basement.
The first time you split my lip open with your fist, I realized things weren't going to be the same. I let my pouring blood serve as the ink. Signed. Sealed. Delivered. You marked my love with a return to sender stamp in the form of four fingers and an opposable thumb.
Your smile used to be the gateway to God's eyes. But now, your demons excorcise at free will thru your palms.
I continued to promise myself as I syncronized short gasps of breath to the beating fist against my jaw that this was
only temporary.
I wondered how long I could continue to fake it and fib to my friends and family, stating that the blackend bruises under my eyes are just bags because, "lets face it, I work too hard for my own good."
September 9th, I was sent to the E.R.
Coincidentally, it was the same night I came home bitchin' about, how you "never notice me anymore."
But boy, did you notice me that night...
You paid special attention to my neck, wringing and beating it like housewives washing laundry in the 50's. And my elbow, I never knew it could bend that way...it couldn't. Gymnist would look on in awe if they could see how flexible you made my bones that night. And I thought Rice Krispies were the only thing that could snap, crackle, and pop...that was before my tender
midsection was formally introduced to your knuckles.
The fractured collar bone, broken arm, and 5 shattered ribs were cause enough for my brothers to place a bounty on
your head.
While I slept in my white-washed bed, covers just a little too clean, my brothers were tearing you to bits.
Like ravernous wolverines, they massacared you.
Eye for an eye.Tooth for a tooth.Blood for blood.
You were demolished.
Almost twenty six miles away, but I swear to God, I heard every minute of your punishment.
Every scream.Every whimper.Every cry.Every attempt to beg them to leave you within an inch of your life.
Funny how it took the death of you for me to realize that what I've been loving for the past 5 years was a lie.The person that I loved had become nothing more than a carcus, and the heart incased within it was long aborted.
© Malix Mechü
Our relationship was a shared bottle of Gin at 12a.m. while sitting on your back porch steps over looking the patches
in your backyard where our mangled childhood is buried.
And I love how your kisses always tasted like sugar cookies.
I recall a time, when we were 13, an impromtu game of Spin The Bottle united our lips for the first time...you
promised we would be inseperable, from that day on...You lied.
You were my firsts.
First kiss.
First love.
First fuck.
It shouldn't be this easy for two bodies to become one.
I watched nervously, tugging at my lips with my teeth as you made your way inside of me. Slurs of "fuck" "damn" and "shit" fall from your lips. I catch them with my tongue, and take a deep breath.
As we made the beast with two backs, I cried silently, listening in as your mother was being beat mercilisly by your
to father. To him, she was just a punching bag with a pulse.
We came. And I prayed under my breath that our love would never become that...
It's been 5 years and I can't decifer if this pain in my chest is just heartache, or the beginning stages of the Ebola virus.
I used to fold my heart, oragami bird style just to fit the moods you were in. Your temper was filled with more fire than the devils basement.
The first time you split my lip open with your fist, I realized things weren't going to be the same. I let my pouring blood serve as the ink. Signed. Sealed. Delivered. You marked my love with a return to sender stamp in the form of four fingers and an opposable thumb.
Your smile used to be the gateway to God's eyes. But now, your demons excorcise at free will thru your palms.
I continued to promise myself as I syncronized short gasps of breath to the beating fist against my jaw that this was
only temporary.
I wondered how long I could continue to fake it and fib to my friends and family, stating that the blackend bruises under my eyes are just bags because, "lets face it, I work too hard for my own good."
September 9th, I was sent to the E.R.
Coincidentally, it was the same night I came home bitchin' about, how you "never notice me anymore."
But boy, did you notice me that night...
You paid special attention to my neck, wringing and beating it like housewives washing laundry in the 50's. And my elbow, I never knew it could bend that way...it couldn't. Gymnist would look on in awe if they could see how flexible you made my bones that night. And I thought Rice Krispies were the only thing that could snap, crackle, and pop...that was before my tender
midsection was formally introduced to your knuckles.
The fractured collar bone, broken arm, and 5 shattered ribs were cause enough for my brothers to place a bounty on
your head.
While I slept in my white-washed bed, covers just a little too clean, my brothers were tearing you to bits.
Like ravernous wolverines, they massacared you.
Eye for an eye.Tooth for a tooth.Blood for blood.
You were demolished.
Almost twenty six miles away, but I swear to God, I heard every minute of your punishment.
Every scream.Every whimper.Every cry.Every attempt to beg them to leave you within an inch of your life.
Funny how it took the death of you for me to realize that what I've been loving for the past 5 years was a lie.The person that I loved had become nothing more than a carcus, and the heart incased within it was long aborted.
© Malix Mechü
GET HER!
Sawa Suicide is by far one of my favourite SuicideGirls, so I felt it was appropriate to at least make something to show my appreciation. SuicideGirls are the epitome of non-conformative beauty and confidence; not only do they show that the alternative lifestyle can truely be something amazing, but they are also not afraid to shed their skins despite the fact that millions of people will see them and possibly judge them for what they cannot see as beautiful. In a polluted, media-conscious society, SuicideGirls are a breath of fresh air.This photo of Sawa Suicide, the face, and logo in the background are courtesy/property of SuicideGirls and their associates. I do not own anything.
-Allison
ARIGATOU!!
A possible shirt/sticker design I drew up and coloured in Photoshop. No, I have no idea why the people are saying "Thank you" to a woman that wants them all to die.
-Allison
The sight of her...
"Runny nose and runny yolk. Even if you have a cold still, you can cough on me again. I still haven't had my fulfill. In the someday, what's that sound?"
Ross' DeviantArt: http://mooncalfe.deviantart.com/
-Allison
A piece I did sometime ago. Originally I was just screwing around, trying out a new art style(I was quite used to drawing anime around this time), I wanted to try and capture the way Ross Campbell(a comic artist/writer known for his indie comics such as "Wet Moon" and "Shadoweyes") draws lips on his female characters, they look so out of proportion, but yet so fitting, it's perfect if you ask me. Once I drew the lips however, I didn't really feel that it was something I accomplished(which isn't so bad I suppose) so I left them alone for a while. I completed this piece not really knowing what I was doing, it was just Nirvana tracks on the radio and my hand having a mind of it's own.
"One more quirky cliche'd phrase. You're the one I want to refill."
Ross' website: http://www.greenoblivion.com/index.phpRoss' DeviantArt: http://mooncalfe.deviantart.com/
-Allison
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