Tag Archives: excuse

The Last Victim

We are the walking dead
Swallow the lies we’re fed
Uncover your eyes, uncover your eyes
Uncover the truth and you’ll realize
We’re hanging by a thread
We are the walking dead…

~*~

I was convinced of myself, at first.

Before mercy turned to failure and hell begged over to madness, everything seemed to be quite rational. Perfectly-planned. Dare I even say, elegantly beautiful. The conceived scenario played out in my head like an unraveling film spiel, woven into a viscid, intricate web and ensnaring naive hearts, and the sharp, unexpected twist and blunted violent stab of that final ending made the jagged suspense, the heart-wrenching thrill, the never-ending mystery and uncertainty, every slighted emotion thrown out and ravaged by the starving sharks, all of it…made everything worth it.

But now all I have is murder in my tongue, lies over my eyes, and your blood on my hands.

How did it all come to this?

Everything looks so red, even after I thoroughly scrubbed myself clean of the transgression. I made sure to meticulously tidy everything up. White walls, white floor, white bleached palms, white light pouring over the windows, a whiteness so pure and bright it’s fucking blinding, but the red obstinately stays. And it stains. On the white walls, on the white floor, on my chafed shaky hands, all over the room’s white-blanched windows like a sinner’s stained glass art, that redness so dark and demented that I can’t even clearly discern anymore where the colour ends and the shadows begin.

I have no excuse. I have no absolution from the crime I’ve committed. I cannot be pardoned, cannot be forgiven, and I’ll never forgive myself for what I’ve done. I know I deserve a punishment of nothing less than death. But I didn’t know it would come to this. I didn’t know what I was doing.

But I’m not sorry. And if I had to do it again, I would. Without any hesitations. Without thinking twice.

Without thinking about it all.

God forgive me.

~*~

Can anything bring us back to life?
Will anything make us right?
Can anything bring us back to life?
I’m willing to make us right?
‘Cause the further that we’re falling apart
The more that it breaks my heart…

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Out Of My Mind

“Nobody wants to hear you
Cry about your breakup, so drop it.”
Well, that’s fine too because
I’m fucking sick of talking about it
Let’s talk about shows and ghosts
And shows and clothes…

~*~

beat me green and blue

until my eyes have tunnel vision

nobody wants to hear me

shed bullets and load ammunition

as the screws in my head

are just twisted too tight to be right

and you can spin it around

and around, but you’ll lose the fight

utter an overplayed excuse

i know i look like a burst drained pipe

and i mix up cryptic words

so you can’t tell or tread on which side

and i’m the human definition

of infinite futility and endless frustration

acting upside down and under

over and over like a patience in remission

so beat me up in black and grey

until my porcelain skin turns deathly pale

i’ll send my wretched self home

at least one of us lived to tell the tragic tale.

~*~

See, I’m like you without good moods and
My cave’s my room where I’ll cave too
Yeah, I’m like you without good moods
And you’ll be sorry when you come to…

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Bleeding Eyes See It All

Every second’s soaked in sadness
Every weekend is a war
And I’m drowning in the déjà vu
We’ve seen it all before
I don’t wanna do this by myself
I don’t wanna live like a broken record
I’ve heard these lines a thousand times…

~*~

it doesn’t stay the same

every shredded inch

is just another reason for

you to patch it up and change

just so your bleeding eyes

could do some further damage

.

every lie soaking you in

they say it’s just a futile war

and the darkness is a myth

but you’ve seen it with your

own bleeding eyes, so you

know that it actually exists

.

and they tipped the avalanche

that buried you deep under

but refused to take responsibility

pushing your head underwater

but your own bleeding eyes

have seen it all before

.

and it doesn’t stay the same

every invoice on your shredded arms

is just another pathetic excuse for

you to erase it and start over

until your bleeding eyes could

shed their shallow tears no more.

~*~

We should feel the love so painfully
It hurts right to the touch
I know it stings, I know this cuts
And I wish I could agree with you
But this love is not enough.

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numb and number

why do i constantly

feel the need to fuck up?

even though the same

mistakes me always cost me

a blood excavation

is it because i just want

to find excuses to just keep

on relapsing? am i really

that messed in the head,

that i would need pain justified

to convince myself that i’ll

fucking need more of it?

for once, i wish i wasn’t capable

of writing until i’m as empty

as my pen and as indecipherable

as the paper i tore to shreds

i’m so sick and disgusted

of how i badly run my system

and really, the only option

is for the gears to stop working

or better still, fix what i can

with a quicker pharmacy visit

and offset an overdosed withdrawal

i just want to muffle it all

can’t i be allowed even that, at least?

can i just no longer feel?

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excuses

may i

please be

excused

for the

rest of

my life?

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wingless

the fall

was just another

excuse for me

to attempt to fly

and if that

doesn’t work, then

i won’t lose

anything when i die.

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