Tag Archives: apology

Keep It Going, We’re Nearly Out

Least I’ve been looking
Real-faced on my side
Still don’t know how
To be all in the mind
All in my mind
It’s what you would want…

~*~

You’re bringing me down

But enough is enough

I’ve got some good rounds

Now I’ll call out your bluff

.

Spit a tooth and some lungs

Minutes before it’s all over

Say they call me high-strung

But I always blow my cover

.

Just to win their way to lose

Just to dance around the noose

Just to decorate another bruise

And leave the coroners confused

.

I’ll bring myself down now

It’s a game of its own entirely

You’ve had your sadistic fun, now

It’s time for that bland apology

.

Because it’s just only fair for us

To keep our busted bones locked

When it’s all over and overdone

There’d be no space left for a gun.

~*~

Looking real spaced in my eyes
I don’t know how to be
Here all the time
You know that I was
I was ready to be alone…

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Festive Dissociation

Everything’s just

Loud noises and

Abrasive strangers

And complacency

Take a fake apology

Dripping dead grins

Photographs taken

Just after the screams

And numbness, their

Madness, look happy

Forcibly, and pretend to

Be the perfect family

When everything’s just

Another bad memory

With noisy strangers

In a throwaway insanity.

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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.

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so what was it that you were hoping for?

just an instantaneous reprieve

i still piss myself off with the thought

that it wouldn’t matter if i worry

you’re just a pretty name on paper

and my stuttering pen refuses to bleed

so my head does all the purging

again and again and i want it to be fine

even if i’m inconsequentially yours

because you’ll never find me out

i’m too shaded but i can’t cool it off

blindsided by your automatic ideas so

i guess i’ll apologise under my breath

every night, just before you save my

nightmares and leave the brake in

your clutch, ripped off like the breaks

in my heaving ribs, mouthing sorry

over and over and i’m not over it

i’ll never be fucking over it anyway

is that all you want? don’t even bother

i’m just the mirror you’re pointing at

and i’m just mimicking your baby eyes

it’s exhausting to let it glint all day

but who will care? you’re the best that

it gets, and i’m half as worse as i will get

and we’re all just a bunch of broken bodies

seemingly set for headfirst collision but

only narrowly missing by a sinew in the end

well i shouldn’t really get my hopes up

you’re far too clever for my cry for help

and my delusions can only cash in so much

before you’re changing your mind again

and i think for a second, maybe, oh

just fucking maybe—falling prey again

to your last instantaneous reprieve

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Hanging Gardens of Babylon

It’s the dead of the morning, and I just wish you would come out of

The woodwork, where you’ve been pushing pinecones and daisies

From under my skin. I let the seeds blossom into suffocating weeds,

When you once fervently promised me beautiful flowers and verdant

Foliage like no other kind—but only weak envy thrived within this

Nature, and we both craved the dirt like simpleminded earthworms

Crawling by the railroads just to get trampled on and ran over by

Speeding trains. Perhaps we could finally separate and grovel away

In different directions; maybe I can search for my greener pastures, as

You make your way back to the cemetery fields where you belong,

Wilting and decaying with your apologies in the dead of the night.

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You Get Me So High (All The Time)

You sat in front of me tensely; shaky hands, quivering lips, splintered voice, I almost believed you for a second

I’m not looking for an apology. I’m not looking for love. I’m just looking out for myself

Your hair tangled like barbed wires, dirty fingernails agitatedly running through it in an attempt to search for an answer—why? Why not?

I’ve heard the same dialogue before. It tastes the exact same way it did when I woke up this morning and felt only cold bedsheets and bitter advil on my tongue, spit it out

Betrayal. Is that what you called it? Is that how badly you think of me? Dirty traitor. Is that what I am?

The viselike grip on my throat slowly tightens, leaving just enough space for a final dignified gasp. The wooden chair creaks an inch

But you kicked it over. Swinging like autumn leaves, a bit dramatic. I did it all for you. Surely you must have. Let’s see them figure you out without a crumpled note to tell them why

Because I honestly don’t know either, dear. Whiskey and aftershave makes me feel dizzy and I can’t think clearly. Have to t h r o w – u p

Bruises line the bathroom wall and I stumble over your slippery tears. Were you listening behind the door, when I was crying my face out? Yes. Quite wet. A quick shower doesn’t sound so bad. Might get rid of all the nasty stains on my shirt

Fucking crazy bastard, you spitefully whisper on the other side of the fogged-up glass, and I can’t help but smile back, diamond girl

Isn’t that why you fell for me?

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28 – hesitant hope

i know you aren’t sick

of that five-hour coffee yet

or even making a mess out of

expensive watercolours

but you better stop laughing

while you’re down and out

.

and you also don’t care

for the farewells and five a.m.

headaches making a mess

out of your cheapest apologies

but you better start fixing

that wretched old life of yours.

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nocturnes, numbers, nyctophilia

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness—and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark. ~Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

~*~

i.) the jealous penmanship

clever words left tears forming in my brain

ones that i have to open up my healing bruises

just so i could let them out somewhere

somewhere my veins wouldn’t be affected severely

(it was late at night, and my stars called out from nowhere)

sensations poured out from every letter and departure,

as it entangled itself with my nerves and wore them down,

and wore them like a dirty dress, and wore them out to town

until they were worn-out; nothing but a few stray threads.

i burned half of my journals when i turned 16 and stopped trying

to imitate being an author, because writing for me isn’t an expectation–

it’s nothing but another puzzling lock without a skeleton key

and because the most delicate daydream wasn’t mine

because selfishness, to me, is not just another bland adjective

because my bones screamed with the weight of a black hole

because your reveries were enchanting. and mine were f a d e d

n o , i ‘ l l  n e v e r  b e  a s  g o o d  a s  y o u

~*~

ii.) softness, like his heart in the shape of a newborn galaxy

i faded into an ugly shade of something that’s neither monochrome nor coloured;

on the verge of collapsing onto the other side of the fence, threatening madly

but never quite having the contemplation to choose a losing side

as i fell down into the blue of a stranger’s wanderlust eyes.

someone else had taken most of that vibrant shade already, but i managed

to steal away just a sliver, a glimpse, an infinitesimal shiver

and it was the kind of lasting cold that froze summer hurricanes

and kept my breaths visibly foggy and crisply sharp with every inhale

(you never warned me. you don’t know me, but you knew me too well. and i never listen.)

i’ll always be an insignificant detail in the cyan tapestry you painted for yourself

and i’ve accepted that long ago when i said i loved you in my nightmares,

tossing and turning on the bed covered in plastic arrogance because

no other blanket felt warm and comfortable enough for my body to sleep on

until then, i could only sink deeper into the fathomless wish that this universe would end s o o n

i t  w a s  a  k i n d  o f  l o v e  t h a t  m a d e  s u i c i d e  s o u n d  l i k e  m u s i c

~*~

iii.) an abrupt goodbye/the guilty party often disappears first

i was mad at something. i didn’t know what it was, but it was foolish enough

for me to take it out onto the embracing autumn sky, on the taciturn smiles that

were supposed to hold me when tempestuous desolation grabbed at my twisted throat…

and on you. you never meant anything. you just wanted to talk, and so did i,

but my tongue was a spilling box of blades, and every time i opened my

wounded mouth to make you laugh, i always ended up cutting you by accident instead.

(friend, even if i said i’m sorry, can you ever forgive me for what i’ve done to you?)

it was an unreasonable apology, and i erased myself because of my own self-hatred,

but not before leaving footprints of a migraine in your head, which you will inadvertently step on,

slip at, and hurt yourself…fuck. i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why i have

to push and pull apart the only semblance of logic in my life, the only anchor

that keeps me from towing away from the tides, the last person that still feels real to me

when everything else has blurred into an amalgamated indistinct static background;

i don’t know why i feel so smothered, when you’re the only attention i’ll ever have and need.

at this point, the only thing we have is each other’s problems, and the way we both

jeered at it, taunted it, and blocked it out with our own shared playlists until we felt better—

but now that summer was just a distant memory, and so was the scarlet artwork we made of it.

you also needed comfort. but did even try? no. i ran away from the colliding wreckage

as if it wasn’t my fault, and i numbed myself out because i couldn’t do the same for y o u

i ‘ m  s o r r y  i  m a d e  y o u  s a y  s o r r y  s o  m u c h . . .

i  d i d n ‘ t  m e a n  t o  d e s t r o y  e v e r y t h i n g

~*~

iv.) the midnight closes. the violent curtain falls.

the cold glow of my computer screen was rude and restless

and it made my fingers promise, crossed and uncrossed, that i would

stay with it until it slips into comatose. i have rinsed my mouth with lukewarm water

a hundred times to try to wash out the taste of stale coffee, but it never came out and now

i’m stuck with it until morning, until another astrological moon cycle, until i lose

myself in the chemical moments of something that’s so artificially natural.

i’m constantly starving myself, stuck between confidence and relapsing withdrawals of

my past life that i thought i discarded when i finally held on to my shooting star,

but it was always tethered tightly to me by a crimson string. and it always probably will be.

i’m alone. i’m friends with people that talk shit to me in the mirror, and when i bite

my chapped lips and draw blood by accident, it almost feels like atonement. almost.

(i got what i came for and i can’t try again. this is what i want…..isn’t it?)

i know that there are people out there making fun of me and rolling their eyes

petulantly as they bask in the trite, whimsical “perfection” of their storybook existence

but not everything has a happy ending, and not every sad story has to end badly.

i don’t know. i’ll never know. i’m tired and i have responsibilities that i’m not

built for, and every crack turns into a break, and a break into shattered p i e c e s

t o m o r r o w  i ‘ l l  d o  t h i s  o v e r  a g a i n  .  u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  t o m o r r o w s .

~*~

v.) nocturnes.

( a n d  i ‘ l l  s t a y  h e r e )

u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  n u m b e r s  t o  c o u n t ,

a n d  t h o u g h t s  t o  f e e l ,

a n d  n i g h t s  t o  s t a y  a w a k e .

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a mindless monologue

The blood, the blood, the blood of the lamb
Is worth two lions, but here I am
And I slept in last night’s clothes and tomorrow’s dreams
But they’re not quite what they seem…

~*~

i need some therapy

and a hundred seconds alone

i need room to breathe

and support from the bleed

i need to stay silent

and talk my problems out

find another friend to bother

and do nothing but joke around

i need to admit something’s wrong

that i can’t do this by myself

i need to keep myself going

and be just a little more strong

i need bitter medication

i don’t know why i stopped

guess i don’t want to be an addict

my brain feels fogged and rough

i need to hurt myself less

throw away my blades and insecurities

i don’t want to keep companions

and end up in a fit of jealousy

i need to absolve all my mistakes

to stop hurting the people around me

always on the brink of an apology

i need to stop being—and feeling—sorry

i need to channel my thoughts safer

but i just don’t have the skill or talent

i can’t make anyone any promises

and my future is scary and hellbent

i need to keep on dreaming

but not too much to drown in the tides

i need to stop worrying neurotically

about what’s what and the right of rights

i need to be me and more than this

i want to figure myself out before it’s too late

to be assured of myself, the things i can do

to provide myself with no more of hate

i know i can never undo the long-term damage

caused by my self-destructive ways

but i know that i could always be better

than what i think i deserve—i need to change.

~*~

I can move mountains
I can work a miracle, work a miracle
I’ll keep you like an oath
“May nothing but death do us part…”

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mental block. (3)

***

why did

i say

s o r r y

when

i was not?

***

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