Tag Archives: cycles

9 – over (and over it)

same old cycles

like nothing changed

but everything did—

.

like a magnanimous

nothing, all this

.

nervous illusion built

by someone who

could do nothing but

destroy everything.

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smudged

a thousand flights,

of worn-down stairs,

of hymnal bells tolling,

of careless bodies,

a forgotten memory,

no more than a mere

smudged imprint in

the edifice of a tower

overlooking everything—

and until then…nothing.

.

day in, day out, cycles;

in rapid gyroscopes of

existences so barely free,

almost; not freely, out of control,

spinning, revolving, rotating.

until then, those thousand flights,

once holding melting footsteps,

a clamour that praised each sunset,

and even a few reckless bodies,

now holds back ire history for them.

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I personally prefer bleach to whiskey or wine.

“And do you really trust your tongue or did you bury the taste?
And is this fantasy real, or is it all home-made?”

~*~

And they don’t know

how many times

i hated myself over

the colour of my eyes

l a c k u s t re

g l o s s e d – o v e r

d u l l e d

by a ton of medications

that i take ironically

to bring a blush into my cheeks

some shade into my flesh

and yet the pastel pink

is far too bright

like it’s drawn on with a crayon

by a colourblind child

but no matter what i take

my blood remains the same hue

diluted into a disgusting

watercolour painting

and i have to create artworks with it

every time i cough

and every time i can’t go to sleep

they all say it’s

d i s g u s t i n g

s e l f i s h

a l m o s t  i n h u m a n

and i know, believe me

i know it better than anyone else

you don’t have to tell me again

the voices in my head

do a better job of telling me

but with every decrepit strand of hair

that falls off my deforested scalp

is another count of another hour

no—another minute

that i continue to waste oxygen

in this faultless fucking world

so i knock back my codeine

and i slowly close the

flickering bathroom lights

avoiding my pale judging gaze

on the toothpaste-stained mirror

as i leave to

continue existing in

w o r t h l e s s

f u t i l e

e n d l e s s  c y c l e s

of this monochrome facsimile

drinking it all in

and hating myself again

over the colour of my eyes,

how it doesn’t have any.

i don’t want to live anymore

and yet i simply hate myself far too much

to even attempt to end my misery

and so it goes.

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Confected Cycles

A caged throat

Screaming relentless

And fires siege

Tempting syndromes

Agony weeping

In a numbing addiction

Clotting misery

Blood and deathwishes

Sorry little lies

Killing every will to exist

I can’t complain

I know it will always end

Fucked-up like this.

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int[et]ernal paranoia

falling in

quiet downpours

of strychnine

cycles of

febricula

through black

and evergreen

.

soaring in

perpetual oceans

of serotonin

chains of

paranoia

beat me black

and blue within.

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Broken Record

It called me, I shoulda known
As the fever sweat through the dream
Told mamma that I couldn’t go
So I could stay home just to watch him dancing
And you could not tell me then
Like you could never ever tell me now
That this is not who I am…

~*~

I lost my way when I told everyone I’m keeping my resolve

I changed directions but hit the brakes when I started to swerve

Blood on the carpet, cracked car window and I don’t regret it

Perhaps it’s just too late, and call me cliché but I just might make it

.

The fever haunts my sleep like a ghost, it keeps me up at night

I’m sweating tears, way past the years of choosing wrong or right

But the final decision won’t be under your static voice’s call

It’s collapsing in weekends and dead ends, need some damage control

.

Reluctance only absolves the manifested consequences it amasses

A separation in the direct degree, as the unread side effects harasses

Querulous impostors screaming diplomatic shrill notes of protests

Drenched to the sin with self-repugnance, scandalising second guesses

.

Those platinum eyes reflect the man submerged in visceral frequency

Staggering the nightmares rushing in my veins, taunting habitual tendency

Show me the alternative to bloodletting and crumpled prescription pills

Embarking to the mistress of a bottle just so time would stand still

.

The blackout makes it easier, ’cause that way I don’t have to look at myself

When the déjà vu is drowning me under familiar sandpits of its miserable help

The taste of being sober, the bitten tongue and the scent of absinthe forsaken

Until I’m too sick and second to none, falling out over and over and over again…

~*~

Showed me that carrot on a string
But just a little too late
The bite from the taste and the smell
Of the sick somehow reminds me to be myself
Over and over again…

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grandfather clock

back and forth

like a pendulum

sonorous clangs

constant ticking

and so on it goes

tocks maddening

before the jolt of

loud clamouring

back and forth

like a pendulum

dizzying cycles

trapped within

i wonder when

this grandfather

clock will cease

to fucking ring.

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A Refreshing Interlude

I was expecting failure to taste bad.

Like a burst aneurysm occurring at the very back of my throat, a weakened vessel choking and frothing and overflowing out of my disgusted rictus, though I am unable to stop it.

Or a rancid meatloaf comprised of all this sinful world’s filth and vices, shoved haplessly and overcooked in an untempered oven by Coraline’s button eyed, arachnid form mother.

Or maybe a deceased decaying goldfish of a sadistic child, given a couple dips in the yellowing chloride loo for good measure and then swallowed whole for a final swim down the gullet.

Perhaps a pulsating papule, filled with blood, pus, sweat, excrement, scabs, and tears, a viscous abomination, almost self sufficient, raring to be popped by a curious lingering fingernail.

Dare I even say a dead roadkill, preferably a hedgehog or a possum, its uncoiled ropes of smashed viscera scattered all over the 97 intersection, rotting carcass gathered up by a redneck for dinner.

Or even just my Neanderthal of an older brother’s unwashed sports socks, tossed into the overflowing laundry basket after a long day of intense football practice, under the afternoon heat.

At the very least, that. Something vile, putrid, regurgitation-worthy of a disgusting meal, something that keeps me from stuffing it back in my gluttonous yet highly clueless mouth, like salty PlayDoh.

But surprisingly, failure tastes a lot like a chocolate mint. Refreshing to the tongue, with a sweet recoil and a bitter hint of an aftertaste.

Suffice it to say, I may try it again anytime soon.

Cheers.

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The straw that broke the camel’s back

There comes an epoch

Where I feel quite jaded

To the point where even

It sickens me to heaving

If I dared open my mouth

And stuck my pale tongue

A creature might crawl out

Black, viscous abomination

.

Tears refuse to fall anyway

For they have hardened into

Ivory pearls, just too painful

To egress my lacrimal gland

And when they clatter to the

Sullied floor, you pray caution

Or you might topple on them

And fracture your fragile spine

.

I could listen to the synapses

Laid within my strained mind

As taut as overwound strings

On a soundless archaic guitar

Attempting to create melodies

Pulled hard ’til it breaks away

And I could hear a symphony

Of tumults, snap, snap, snap

.

Thus webs of my sanity vaporise

The dewdrops start to rain down

And insects released themselves

From their hapless fettered state

Buzzing about inside my system

Stinging my heart, sucking blood

Until my heart rendered anaemic

All vital signs cease to be present

.

One small spark is all it takes for my heart to burn

One wrong turnpike to cause a wreckage collision

One hypodermic needle embedded of a numbing lie

One last hay strand’s weighing me down until I die

The last vestiges of hopes are sullenly acquiesced

Sempiternally expired, lost by the devil’s workshop

What’s left are unpalatable tastes of failure, enough

I can take no more, you can have the ghost—I give up.

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:)

Dive in, take a breath
Blow the smoke through the hole in my chest
Still choking on the bed
Found your waste while the ember red
Keeps falling down and burning holes…

~*~

I guess I’ll just keep on smiling…

With my pained chest constricting, relapsed into hyperventilating

My befuddled demented mind left all dizzy, my vision broken and blurring

Shivers run down my back constantly, knotted stomach a dull weight

Goosebumps dotting my sickly skin, silver tears threatening to break

.

Gloomy noose unraveled and left lying on the cold slick floor

Dried bloodstains blotting the carvings of the solid oaken door

Deep dents left by wounded knuckles on the laughing white wall

A ringing phone’s shrill voice screams for attention, an unanswered call

.

Dark circles and sunken eyes disguised with a thick colourful mask

Shaking voice strengthened easily by a swig on a whiskey flask

Crimson scars covered with haute couture fashion and coats

Pallid complexion barely recognisable under that false fervid glow

.

It’s careless, it’s thoughtless, for they all think me as flawless

I’d try to convince them otherwise, but I reckon it’s just pointless

With no means to eject this deadly toxin, no catharsis as a cure

This poison further contaminates me, putrid sludge seeping my soul pure

.

I’m way past my breaking point, but no one would ever expect me to crack

For they perceive me as just a wall of solid steel, a shell of stoic block

So for now don’t break your character, me, and don’t fall down crumbling

Just suck it all in, it’s nothing, I’m okay…I guess I’ll just keep on smiling.

: )

~*~

I know that it’s not safe here
You did this to yourself but have no fear
Just hold your breath and swim under…

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