Into the Depths of Tartarus

Exhaustion burns madly beneath my temple, at your ever-cunning sacrifice

Of an artificial religion, set the final scene and throw dead blackbirds and rice

To appease the ancient gods thundering malicious incantations inside my skull

Kneeling before your hide, my coldest blood at the altar; do not be appalled

I shall pray in our devotion, mute out the shrieks of steel against ivory bone

And carve out your grecian name in monuments, of a wanderer set in stone

To dispel the seas and calm their fury, to capture lost angels within my grasp

Crush their wings as I assemble your own, and let the underworld be my only judge.

ammo

wake me up

before i wake

stumbling eyes

a grand mistake

.

and let me go

before you know

arrive but crash

our bleeding glow

.

so fake me out

before i’m fake

made of cement

hardened by hate

.

and take me slow

before you’ll show

call for an apology

but end with reload.

Misadventures in Sheet Music

Pardon this little ramble. But I have been attempting to figure out the part highlighted in red via sight reading alone (and with the help of my ever-resilient theory notes ofc, because I’m that incredibly thick and need some sort of handicap, otherwise I’ll just straight-out die) for the last eight or so minutes; and I’ve just figured out the key and barely gotten through the first three notes (or first chord, whatever the hell it even is) in the treble staff section, and already a monstrous headache is flaring up beneath my temples oh god my stupid brain cells are starting to break out with hives dear gracious spirit of brett and eddy save me from this consonant perdition pls ;-;

I don’t really know why I’m doing this when I don’t even have a piano to play it on anyway, ahahah. Matter of fact, acquiring said instrument might just actually help in easing my mind’s incessant troubles as I embark in such a futile quest. But I’m too poor for that shit and this is what happens when the internet’s being a dysfunctional fuckass (much like the person typing this, get roasted bitch) and I have nothing else better to waste my time on. But I just—I desperately need this skill. Somehow. For reasons. Not really for any useful nor productive reasons, but for reasons nonetheless. Alright. I can do this. I can do this. I have five and a half more pages of this. Christ wearing tights, someone stab me in the jugular with a violin bow to the beat of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. I can do this.

only

maybe i don’t

matter much

in an ocean of

bodies, far away

beyond your reach

.

but i still want to

say what i think,

all i’ll mean—just

know that you will

always be my favourite.

Transmogrify

They spit me out right through the teeth
I can’t pretend, ash in the wind
Won’t blow again, it was a breeze for you
These hurricanes inside of my brain
Let it rain, made it look easy
Can’t look away, you love the pain…

~*~

I’m sick of feeling happy like this.

Like a hollow happy, all fractured sticks and carved limestone facades and a mimicked genuine smile that does absolutely nothing to quell the bitter, devoid, pathetically-quivering feeling viscously building up in my throat. The desperate, acidic kind, the awful one I just want to violently throw back up but can’t. Fake-real happy.

Fuck that, why couldn’t I just be normal happy?

This dangerous selfishness, it’s like a howling werewolf without a full moon, and I’ll always fall immeasurably short of what I truly feel. I only provoke the worst kind of boiling rage frothing against my curled lips, a bloodstained rabid displeasure—but nothing more—at the fact that I’m happy for you, but not really happy to be so. Empty fucking threats. Instantly dying out short and flat. The synthetic skyline glimmers back to me in a derisive snarl; taunting,

What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?

I want it to tear apart my flimsy skin and reveal the perverse goddamned feral beast hibernating inside, I want my soggy eyes to glint a jaundiced yellow and my grotesquely-disfigured mind to lower its inhibitions and reset to a primal scream, my rewired guts are churning corrosively as they crash away at my torso and starve for some more guts, and my grin at this point only resembles a sinister bared sneer, all vicious teeth and reckless abuse.

If I can’t have it, then everyone else will.

I just finally want to shed off that repugnant, powerless, shaky lie I call my own farcical humanity and then completely let go. Of you. Of everything else. Of everyone else. Including myself. Especially myself.

Maybe then, I’ll truly be happy. Please. God, please.

~*~

I paid the cost, yeah, it’s all my fault
That I ain’t giving up my soul
It’s all my fault, watching me bleed
You cut me down on my knees
No matter what you believe
I think we both can agree
That you can’t blame it on me…

high beams

the traffic lights

look far different

.

when i walk alone

a tempting waltz

.

dandelions burn

beneath my knees

.

and the crosswalk

blurs my eyesight

.

heading back home to

where grief tastes okay

.

but if the sunset asked

me to leave with it now

.

to paint my hands with

orange and abendrot

.

like stars and headlamps

shimmering before me

.

and all the colours i lost

in my travels around town

.

would i answer quickly

would i simply tell it yes?

Inquiries

You can’t just ask me where I’m headed

And then afterwards, not give a damn

Drop a little postscript for confusion

And not send the rest of the telegram

You can’t just say hello after goodbye

And expect me to still be waiting there

At the very least, have the nerve to tell me

That you just don’t really care.

sour patches

your words drag

filed nails across

a chalkboard, so

astride the music

.

that ebbs and flows

beneath your voice

a cascade of lullaby

when you dare sing

.

but you’ll never need

to be one or the other

terrible temper along

soft childish laughter

.

i so adore you and

your whim, for you are

never more darling

than you have ever been.

Baptism By Fire

Blink if you hear our signal
Our hands drip red with blood from clapping
When you hear the command
The sparrow ate our bread trails
Go east along this shadowed mountainside
If you wanna stay alive…

~*~

You stuck to the guns that grew behind your open back

I let you confuse me for a while, until you beat me black

But I still left all the pain between the spaces in my teeth

Picking barbed wire from my knuckles, I can’t even bleed

.

So now the party favour’s over, the running joke is getting old

I couldn’t even laugh at myself, you thought you had me so sold

But contempt is double-sided, their crude fence has collapsed

You’re nothing more than a brackish lie, a fast-forward relapse

.

But you stuck to the blunt razors you forged under your callused skin

When the devil beckoned you back, confident that you would finally win

But when I left my lacerations in the places you and the crowd could see

That was only for show and tell and the next one up in line is you, not me.

~*~

Well, you had pinched my arm to find light
And know that if this is real
I know how the emotion
Now I can’t sense when or if I get out
And I’m still wayside with myself…

malencolie

whenever i am

struck with

melancholy,

i seem to find

that you are

both the cause

and the cure.