Tag Archives: argument

Domestic Park

Desk drawers

Fractured tibia

Stopwatch red

Dream febricula

Medicated blues

Hangover sober

Ready-set overdose

Insides uncovered

Busted-up mouth

Bloodied ceiling

Cracked linoleum

Window unhinging

Screaming children

Playground purple

Tempest tantrums

Drainage overfull

Halted arguments

Gossipy neigbours

“Do-not-cross” tape

Handcuffed endeavour

Guilt-ridden laughter

Covered up with tears

Madness manifesting

“I didn’t do it, dear.”

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

all hands (around my throat)

This is strange as hell to me
To say out loud it’s happening
What a powerless weight I am feeling
Oh, I’m fighting for a fate so fleeting…

~*~

i’m crossing

lines that

i didn’t know

were there,

taking the

last word in

an endless

argument that

never even began,

and tasting the

chagrin in a

flavourless

tongue.

i danced with

the devil once

and now i’m

struck by love,

no love for

this insanity,

no love for

myself at all—

nothing even

matters anymore.

i blame myself

for what i

didn’t do, for

what i couldn’t

have helped,

blame myself

for what they said

because it’s

easier that way.

i don’t want

anyone’s grasp

to pull me out and

bring me back,

i don’t want

to be named

another specimen;

i just don’t want

to be saved.

and i’m trying my

best to ignore

the voices

coursing in my

veins, draining me

of blood, as they

all hissed away

vindictively

“that could have

been you.”

~*~

You can’t let go, who is this ghost?
I won’t agree, calling my friends
This is for real, emergency…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

the sober and the selfish

Loose lips sink ships, so I’ll keep silent
Suggest your words stay in your mouth
It’s never ending, the cycles ascending
People keep asking, I’m not here
I don’t really think that you’ve ever walked
A mile in my shoes, I don’t really think
That you know what I’ve been through…

~*~

yes, i’m such a selfish bastard

who understands the complications

of fucking up my own existence

but i do it despite the consequences

because fuck, why the hell not?

i’m self-destructive and apathetic

and there’s a cyclone constantly

ravaging my barely-functional system

and frankly, we all die anyways

so what’s the difference if i go just

a little earlier than i ought to?

and even if that should, would happen

why should, would you give a damn?

i’m just another needle sticking your neck

just one less burden to carry and get

the crippling sciatica and scoliosis from

and don’t you give me the excuse that “you care”

platitude, because i’m honestly so sick of it

and you know i would never believe in

such poisonous lies, such mechanical bullshit

i know i’ll see graveyard dancing at my own funeral

and you’ll be the one leading the goddamn line

so just give it all up, won’t you? it’s useless.

i’m just another one of those cheap, godforsaken

open-ended dime novels that nobody cares to

solve, because it’s frustrating, not worth their time

and the less you act like you’re a genuine heart

the less you pretend this ain’t pathetic entertainment

the more you’ll understand, the more i’ll get it

and the easier it will be for the both of us to let go

yes, i’m such a selfish goddamned bastard

who doesn’t deserve jack shit, who thinks that he will

never be good enough for anything, and a selfish,

egocentric narcissist who hates himself and pushes away

the things he loves, and this selfishness is all i will ever have

oh, how inconsiderate of me not to care about you

when i could barely start to care about me, but hell no

i’m the selfish one…now isn’t that just cleverly fucking ironic?

~*~

All your life, I wish you would
Have learned to swallow your pride.
And stop preaching
I know what you’re thinking
You’re so far above me in your mind…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Burying Nevus

It was a few steps forward, twice removed, seconds away from pulmonary distress. The rough patches of ocher blisters felt like frozen ice lodged in his windpipe, a cowardly conviction that he wouldn’t dare speak. His fault. His mistake. His responsibility. Him, a filthy traitor. The constricting bracelets felt like bleeding handcuffs, prosecuting him for his blithe misunderstanding. This was never my intention, yet why am I riddled with disorienting guilt? One voice asked in attrition. It’s not you to blame if you didn’t know. Awareness is key. Another reasoned out calmly. Ignorance is the enemy of reason. A third entity argued in hostility. Every choice made sense, thus, he told them all to shut up so he could think. He bit down on his raw cheek until bile flooded his throat and metastasised as an abrasive lump. The bloodied bruise tasted like a salty alibi in his mouth. He submerged his soberness in liquid regret until it drowned, and sunk in inebriation. After he could think no longer, he made his final decision. He carried through. He knew it was unfathomably wrong, fatally so. But it was warranted.

It was just another scar tissue he had to permanently hide.

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose