Tag Archives: conscience

getting (un)even

i feel nothing.

there is nonexistent

skin all over my

chalk-drawing bones

and i want to erase

everything and start

over again, but not

before blowing

the irksome dust

all over your

smug face

.

and if that’s too

mean, then i’ll gargle

ten shots of muriatic acid

while singing your

songs, and i’ll

make sure to spit it

back up in your mouth

and rinse thoroughly

so that the holes

you poked in my stomach

don’t begin to sepsis

.

because fuck you

for ruining me like this

go ahead and kick

another snake-charmer

off your legs—or give

in and just go to bed with it

you know you want to

and if the million

venomous bites on your

thighs don’t kill you,

i hope your conscience will.

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assumptive apologies thrown out at the walkway

Isn’t it obvious I’m a wreck
I set these fires just for you
Isn’t it obvious I’ve calmed down
I saved my breakdowns just for you…

~*~

i’m sorry that

i was never there.

that i was just

one trivial moment

in all of life’s

sordid complexities,

the benzedrine

you impulsively take

at three in the morning,

effects shooting up

your severed veins

but always subsiding.

i just wish i didn’t

have to feel like

a counterfeit dollar,

washed up and torn apart

because i look far

too factitious to be

of any use for anyone;

or that final cigarette

you take under the midnight

streetlamps to experience

thrill one last time

before you stop forever.

my conscience feels

strangely disembodied.

i don’t know if

this guilt is justified

or simply being irrational

i don’t know if my

attachment is paramount

or just another necessity

like sleep, or food,

that you can easily replace

i don’t know if i’m

overused, or misunderstood

or i’m simply being

a complete presumptuous,

one-sided, narcissistic

fool about all of this…

i don’t know my function.

i’m confused by your confusion,

and i’m sorry if i’m wrong

but i’ll be even more

sorry if i turn out to be

right.

~*~

I want what I need, I need what I want
And I’m not what you wanted
I felt you slowly slip away, those cemetery eyes
These seven deadly sins, these forty days of night
Have severed all our ties…

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Truancy

i’m relapsing

back to the old habits

that got me rife,

kicked out and

expelled gracelessly

out of a good life.

old habits die

hard, but i’ll die

even fucking harder

so please push the

air out of my lungs

and fill it with water.

it’s truancy and blades

and blood-red ink,

it’s guilt over music

screaming internally

so i won’t have to think.

it’s brooding in bookshelves

scribbling on paper

and drowning in books,

falling out of reality and

hiding under the tables like

a broken broke crook.

it’s beating and seething

and semantically cheating

in the classless class,

it’s skipping on responsibility

and regretting, and my

conscience now tastes crass.

i attempt to assure, and

i say it’ll be fine, it’s only

for half of a wasted day,

screw it, i’ll be fucking okay

even though i know i

won’t be anyhow anyway.

i’m relapsing, i’m collapsing

i’m the suspect confessing

my criminal records curt,

so don’t try to pull me out

of the wreckage, you know

in the debris, you’ll just get hurt.

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Conscientious Hauntings

I’m a rose that’s been raised by wolves
My thorns are getting stuck in everything I know
It’s so hard when you would bleed for the truth you know
But we don’t want the truth, we just want control…

~*~

Trailing will-o’-the-wisps recede from the corner of my eye

Playful phantoms taunt me happily as they float freely on by

Poltergeists scream and rattle as they make an awful lot of noise

Wraiths whisper omens in my ear, such a sickly hollow dry voice

.

Apparitions and spectres flash quickly by the foot of my bed

Shadows slithering out of my closet and into my head

Spirits with sharp wits leaving riddles and soft declarations

Fuzzy figures, orbs of light, that all seem like a bad hallucination

.

I live in a reality where I meet translucent ghosts at every turn

In a graveyard of regrets and dreams, the fallen ambitions of scorn

But the spirits that haunt me and my soul were never such a burden

For these companions remind me of my past mistakes, so I’ll never forget not to do it again.

~*~

…But now I see and I believe
That the ghosts that haunt me
Have been outhaunted…

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Windup Human

But if all we are is just machines
Then let’s become a miracle and break free from these chains
We must be more than just machines
So let them hear our hearts…

~*~

I’m not your snivelling, spineless, stiff lackey

Nor am I some shambling, rotten clichéd zombie

I’m not a mindless, tipsy-topsy inebriate

Nor a foolish dupe that can’t even think straight

.

But despite all this, I’m still treated like a clockwork automaton

Who can be simply controlled with levers and the push of a button

Forcing me to do all your bidding, using my body against my will

I’ve tried to say no, but these efforts and protests are to no avail

.

In your empty eyes, I’m just another one of your windup soldiers

And the only thing programmed into my brain is “Obey first, questions later”

But I know I have my own soul and conscience that dictates my emotions

Clearly though, of all those traits, you heartless people have none.

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