Tag Archives: blame

Doubt Is Failure By Design

We’re born to fuck everything up, I guess.

No one asked for this. I’m like a festering scar on the dysfunctional mind of a starving shark who mercilessly shoved me overboard, and my flailing limbs are weighed down with rocks and paralysed with guilt, with shameful culpability, with the handed-down heirloom of a cursed name—a mere letter and punctuation away from completely unpronounceable—come now, black sheep, where’s your fucking wool?

Absolutely deplorable. Every success-story sycophant resolutely cringes away as if touched by the devil’s acid itself, their gold-plated stomachs turning at the mere mention of us, rolling diamond eyes watering viciously at the sight of our squalid hands reaching out to extinct stars and begging for a shred of respite, if any at all, overfed jesters laughing like relentless hyenas at the classic repertoire of victimised beggars choosing to be losers. No change. No mercy. Miserable. We asked for it, didn’t we?

I take a single step into the path I meticulously measured before finally deeming to be correct, and end up breaking somebody’s weak spine instead; clumsy foot easily slicing through vertebrae like a sharpened sword through snowfall. Another mistake. Another cautionary tale. I hear my dead ancestors wail a steady plangent caterwaul, as they eternally scream and admonish me from beyond the depths of inferno and then perhaps some—from where I shall soon be sharing their fate as I join in with their ever-familiar sickly cries. Another generation. Another bad blood. It’s almost comforting, now.

Oh, well. We fucking saw it coming and let it happen anyway, didn’t we?

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Filed under Prose

Indictment

I’m just an accessory to your crime

Did I make you look as good?

Holding me by your bleeding throat

I can taste your open wounds

.

Nevermind my shirtsleeve’s stained

Or the cameras caught my face

All that matters is that you’re hidden

And I’ll take the ultimate blame

.

I’m just another victim to your lineup

But the yellow tape’s on my lips

To stop me from leaving a clear outline

Where you left me facedown stiff.

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Filed under Poetry

Asylum Fiction

Walk away, in a field of soft roses

Taint of blame and corrupted blood

Pointed fingers pricked on thorns

Carving out olden scars of liquid gold

.

Bloated bodies twisted like vineyard green

Of jealousy, of crushed lies, of purest arrogance

I’m a mere suture away from a finished letter

So cut my chest wide open and read all my sins

.

Surely, these careful feet won’t shatter on glass

That broke beneath the creaking floorboards

Ending the same—trickling droplets of roseate

Infatuated with bliss and miasma, vials of life

.

Almost unattainable, phantom cold to the touch

Picturesque memories sparsely hanging onto the

Dusty hallways crawling with naphthalene ghosts

Roaming, distorting portraits and jagged mirrors

.

And outside the garden terrace, in a field of soft roses

Porcelain bones are buried underneath, blooming with whispered prayers

From a catatonic past, long faded and frayed at the edges

Will you walk away now, or dwell until your soul withers with the seasons?

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Filed under Poetry

Unreachable

Maybe it’s just jealousy
Mixed up with a violent mind
A circumstance that
Doesn’t make much sense
Or maybe I’m just dumb…

~*~

Don’t dive headfirst into the raging currents

And loudly flail for help as you start to drown

Don’t dare to sit on that empty rusted throne

And get beheaded for the sake of an old crown

.

Don’t plead and weep and cry out to a missing god

And solely blame them for being bitterly cruel

Don’t vie for something you know you can’t have

And end up playing this world’s desperate fool.

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Filed under Poetry

12 – smooth talk

i crave for popcorn

and otherworldly diseases

all the very same

.

gorge myself on sweets

and bland medication

all the very same

.

i crave for better tries

and the purest hedonism

i am not to blame

.

’cause no matter what

it just always ends up bad

i am not to blame.

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Filed under Poetry

Disembodied Silhouettes

My shadow no longer walks with me—

Not because there is no light to cast upon it,

But because it’s ashamed to take the very same path

My disgraced footsteps have left an imprint on

But could I blame my shadow for running away?

All it wants is a drop of tasteless medication

And I’m a lacklustre smile away from an overdose

Sitting here, under the ghostly orange of the streetlight

Watching the outline on the asphalt recede from me,

I count how many seconds it takes for me to get home

And pray under my breath that my shadow doesn’t follow.

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Filed under Poetry

Swallowing Diamonds: Does It Hurt?

Don’t even know if you left a note
Should we blame the Dekapote? Or vilify the Abilify?
You were trying to find your vanilla sky
Then you unravel, facedown on rock bottom
Fucking chewing gravel, because
A human’s so fragile, what can you do?

~*~

Got another issue

Pressing like a migraine

And all the healthy “bless you’s”

Can’t repair, can’t compare

To the amount of extraordinary pain

That’s felt with every angry stare

.

So I take a pistol that’s pink on one end

And swallow it whole ‘cause my life depends

On the gunpowder chemicals

Checking up on my broken physicals

Recycling my blood through and through

10 out of 10 doctors recommend that it’s true

.

They all thought I was blissful

‘Cause they never wanna hear about

The things that are fucking awful

Trained by clinical trials, trained by pharmaceuticals

So I’m still saying “I don’t need your help!”

As I choke on my fucking gavel

.

I’ve got a teaspoon of anxiety for my head

And a glass of borderline thoughts before I go to bed

As my body fights every request and rejects my skin

The strangers may praise me, but I will never win

Even if I had all the money in the world to sell out what I love

Would that change the happiness I lack in my blood?

.

‘Cause everyone’s a critic

And a cynic and they all “get it”

When they’re living in glowing cities

With their missus, acting clever

With their 9-5 IQ’s and 401k GPA endeavours

Feeling guilty their children didn’t get their Nerf Guns

.

But monsters don’t discriminate, it’s all fair game

No blame on no names, every label is the same

You could be sitting in gold and still don’t want to get old

You could be in a prison cell and don’t do what you’re told

Or you could be like me, contemplating a straitjacket tee

On my way out to an existence that doesn’t cope out too badly

.

So maybe there are issues that cannot be fixed with tissues

Or underhanded “you’re fine’s” or endless rounds of “bless you’s”

But it doesn’t hurt to compare and it doesn’t hurt to repair

The amount of extraordinary pain that no fake adrenaline stain

Nor serotonin on our hair, taken with a beggar’s angry stares

I’m only human like you and them after all, would it hurt me to care?

~*~

They press our teardrops into diamonds
They change our sorrows into gold
They’re gonna turn our blood to rubies
We just need someone we can hold…

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Filed under Poetry

Pretty Little Thing

Right before you fly you fix the broken wings of
Everything that carries you forward now
Patching up the holes remaining in your word now
I start to question what is real or not, pick apart my every thought
Dig in to a dark place, bury the thought of your face…

~*~

A wish to avoid a blatant lie

To a spine with broken bones

Waiting for retaliation in the

Shape of a forsaken home

.

As mirrors began to whisper

About the drama that unfolded

It all tasted like high tension

Keeping her weak wings faded

.

Fingers forward, burying blame

Twitching petals, her lavish name

Draped in linen, maiden serenity

Masquerading a sorrowful calamity

.

Of an oil painting melting away

In the warmth of this winter fire

Lost palettes ebbing and arching

An abandoned masterpiece dire

.

Grim faces arrested in quiet disgust

As snow fell and tainted mordant black

Onto the pallbearers dressed in drab

Carrying away an eternal chill in her heart.

~*~
Pretty little thing, you know the way to make me weak
But I’ll stand on my own feet
Shame on you for hitting where it most hurts
Shame on me for listening
Pretty little thing, I think you better turn away
My attention is ending…

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Filed under Poetry

midas backwards

you can’t be

the better man

if you’re the one

who caused the

devastation in

the first place.

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Filed under Poetry

[c]lose

your heart is open

or so you proclaimed

you swallow tears whole

and say it’s fair game

.

your mind is open

but every part’s closed

and you blame the unspoken

with your dull overdose.

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Filed under Poetry