Tag Archives: family

Festive Dissociation

Everything’s just

Loud noises and

Abrasive strangers

And complacency

Take a fake apology

Dripping dead grins

Photographs taken

Just after the screams

And numbness, their

Madness, look happy

Forcibly, and pretend to

Be the perfect family

When everything’s just

Another bad memory

With noisy strangers

In a throwaway insanity.

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“What doesn’t kill you
Makes you wish you were dead.”

I had a dream last night. A nightmare? Perhaps so. It was exactly like normal reality—except a little grittier and everyone was sort of…angrier, somehow. Directed at me. And no one really bothered to hide it. My entire family. My mother and siblings. My aunts and cousins. Even my usually gentle and caring grandmother now carried a derisive and wary attitude towards me. It was a very strange feeling to have.

Venomous whispers were chanted around like taunting mantras whenever I happened to pass by:

Waste of space, slithered one

Followed by absolutely fucking useless, and

Get a job, you stupid dropout

In one detached scene, I vividly remember absently murmuring I want to kill myself in front of my chastising mother, and she misheard it and simply laughed at me; a bitterly arrogant simper that lacked any humour. My brother though, he heard it perfectly correct, eyes glinting purple in quiet recognition. But he simply stared me down without blinking as I resolutely left the room, my mother’s shouting and insults still trailing behind me.

He knows. He knew. He knew and he didn’t care.

Well, good for him. I don’t, either.

A meeting was held in the living room. Tell us about yourself, a faceless jury commanded. Other people my age surrounded the table alongside me, mostly girls and some friends, though far more beautiful and more successful in their endeavours than I. And they were fully aware of it. Every underhanded glance from their pretty porcelain irises felt like it fucking stung like hell. These people talked it out smoothly, crooning and preening with flowers spilling out of their mouths, the unseen jury’s nods of approval palpably neck-breaking as they spoke about themselves. Their education. Their work. Their stability. Their social circle. Their payoff. Their lovely, sterile, and sweet suburban lives. They played their part, and they did it well.

This is what you’re supposed to be.

Do you understand?

Ha, of course not. What an idiot.

Obviously, when my turn came around, I was simply floored and at a loss for words. A coalescing stammer of anxiety and panic roared in my ears as I struggled to speak out. Who was I? Invisible eyes condescendingly glared from every corner, from every wall, from every space in the claustrophobic room that my shrinking body didn’t take up. 19, and already a pathetic failure. 19, and already completely deadbeat. 19, you’re already an adult, goddamn it. 19, what have you done with your life? God, what the hell have you done with your life? Why? Why? W h y ?

Who are you?

You’re no one.

I couldn’t stand it any longer. Shaky and almost delirious, I ran for my life, blindly pushing away the looming shadows with weak arms and managing to escape them, somehow. But stubborn silhouettes flickered resiliently past my skin, viscid tendrils willing to break my spine, and the vicious and abusive admonitions stayed echoing just as loud in my mind as if I was still trapped in that damned place. I found my way to my room—a complete mess, as if someone had been ransacking it prior to my arrival—and finally locked myself up in it.

Deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale.

One, two, three…

Tired. My torn-up journal was half-open on the bed, every space on the paper filled with dirty ink and manic scribbles, and nothing written in it ever made sense. Tired. I collapsed by the bedside and tried to to pick it up, and a used sharpener blade fell out between the pages and landed right into my bruised palms, a curiously perfect fit. Tired. I failed you all. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry. Blood. Where did all this blood come from?

I think it’s mine…

My cat’s incessant mewling suddenly jolted me into rousing, soft meows intertwining alongside the sounds of my two younger siblings getting ready for school and my mother ironing their uniforms. 7 AM. On my bed. Heaviness. I was just dying. Was that real? Was any of it real? Shit, I was just dying.

For a hazy, panicked moment, I was unreasonably mad for being woken up. Mad at them. But mad at myself, more so. I just desperately wanted to find out. About nothing. About everything. Maybe they are all really pissed at me that way. Maybe the dream didn’t end there. Maybe I could actually pass away in my subconscious. Maybe I still wanted to have even a sliver of the absolute courage my imagined self had, to finish what I always inevitably screwed up doing. There’s always some form of truth to every elucidating dream, after all. Maybe this was just the one I had to swallow.

But I’m still alive and miserably kicking, so I guess it didn’t fucking matter anymore.

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Filed under Prose

mousse cakes and milk tea

sweet walk

sweet talks

night steps

and lips red


child’s cheer


closing down

the tea stores


funny tales in


soft heart cake

another laugh


tummy burst

sluggish slow

one year down

and more to go.

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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.”

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The Diary Of Jane; or Three Excerpts

i.) him; or the rest of the infinite lie

Try to find out what makes you tick
As I lie down, sore and sick
Do you like that, do you like that?
There’s a fine line between love and hate
And I don’t mind, just let me say
That I like that, I like that…

revenge is colder than the dark ocean

that you carelessly left me to drown in

fill the chasm with the rest of my blood

and take warmth in my spiteless jealousy

as you want to make me bow down to you

but i’m carried away by your fading current

the horizon bends but never breaks the weight

is there another way to hold on to the sky again?


ii.) her; or the story no one wanted to tell

Desperate, I will crawl
Waiting for so long
No love, there is no love
Die for anyone
What have I become?

she’s sore and sick from all the fine red lines

her penned diaries have been burned to ashes

and no one tells her how it should be—or why

desperation ascending from her spine and body

“why don’t you die?” the windows were fogged

when she took her own life in that late autumn night

but no one wanted to cry tears for a corpse in a closet

so they buried her the best they could to keep her quiet…


iii.) them; or the guilt that burned a house

Something’s getting in the way
Something’s just about to break
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane
As I burn another page, as I look the other way
I still try to find my place in the diary of Jane
So tell me how it should be…

the front porch is swollen with pink lightning bugs

the coffee’s cold, but i stopped drinking it long ago

i don’t want morning light to catch up with my sins

i have things in my head that they cannot ever know

so i write a final letter to dear agony, forget to sign it

but it’s never enough to keep my head from screaming

the gunshots should have disturbed their sleeping sister

but she’s not here anymore. i’m sorry. let’s just get this over

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midnight run

i don’t deserve

your bullshit

and the pants you

couldn’t keep on

so next time

do us all a favour

and fucking walk

your shame back home.

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Filed under Poetry

the house of sinners

You’ve fallen captive to what you thought would
Save you, what you thought would clean your slate
You’re in the thick of it now and you have swallowed the hook
What’s done is done, we’ll continue on with or without you
Pain must exist in order for healing to survive
Neither one will ever serve their purpose alone…


underhanded whispers

rotting foundations to the very core

flesh devoured by the ego

and cold blood sold to murder slaves—

black eye gouged for black eye

in this parasitic wasteland;

of a home built on crossbones

and mangled hearsay

swallowing teeth and anger

boiling harsh on explosive veins

devouring the starving bruised hearts

until all that’s left is arcane vitriol.

so tear my body apart to pathetic shreds,

expose the lies in my backbone

and make me believe fervently in

your hypocritical preambles,

distorted tales of abuse,

vile corrupted, asinine whining,

and the conjured-up apparitions at the

tip of your foul leather tongue…

i’ll pass it on to another fool;

taking them as you have taken me for.

because oh, i just adore

your stories of foolhardy orphans

and the secret adoptions that

you slipped in our coffee like poison

and now you have the nerve to grit

the dirty money between

your running mouth and say that

we don’t fucking deserve any of your trust

as you shamelessly go crawling back to your mistress

and weep behind red war paint.

a personal sadistic leverage,

that pathetic carnage of a temper of yours.

watch yourself before you accuse us

and don’t speak with the smoking gun

permanently lodged between your

pointing fingers like a quickly-burning cigarette,

because you’re gonna set yourself on fire.

and we’ll stand back and watch

the hostile flames convict you of arson—

among all of the other crimes

you’ve shamelessly committed against us,

because it’s the most merciful thing

we could ever do to you.


This is my goodbye, don’t worry
We saw through your trickery
And we’re coming out alive, see you at the end
What was once your life is now lifeless
What was once your life is now your jail cell.

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Nervous Wreck

You’ve got a lot of nerve

At the tip of your tongue

When you were the one

Who made me feel sorry

I was still even breathing,

The one who made all my

Dreams feel secondhand

And just a cheap thrill drug,

The one who made it seem

Like underground reposing

Was the only option for you.


You’ve got a lot of nerve

On your mouth, and none

On the organ past your ribs—

But that’s alright, because I

Lost mine when you twisted

It into a noose and made my

Cold throat feel numbed-out.

That’s alright if you want to

Murder trust and then act like

You’re the fucking victim here

Just don’t drag me down again—

You could do that for yourself.

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Filed under Poetry

Of Despair and Last Resorts

So on to the ocean and into the sea
So balanced and calm now, that’s where I will be
So on to the ocean and into the sea
Wash away all my problems, wash away memories
Back then, always through the shattered glass
I stared at my life, and oh, I wished I would die…


Desperation, desperation, desperation.

A mother so desperate to pay back the unwanted debts she’s accumulated under a harrowing time pressure of “sooner than later”, that she’s tearfully begging her long-deceased husband’s portrait for help and verbally contemplating suicide in front of her children, splashed with witty acerbic remarks to conceal her true intentions.

“If I don’t go home tomorrow, just watch the news and you know what you’ll see.”

A woman so desperate to make amends with her best friend that she personally owes, not just money, but also so much of herself for, and attempting to save face from any further unnecessary embarrassment, that she takes out her unbridled anger on everyone else, including her family, herself, and even her very own infant son.

“You’re all fucking useless. Why don’t you just die if you can’t do anything to help?”

A person desperate for redemption, desperate for change, so fucking desperate to take away any further troubles and problems that they might cause to their family; so much so that they’re prepared to do anything to achieve such a goal, even if it means abandoning their education and their future ambitions just to find an easier route to support them. Or perhaps—a darker and easier solution that’s earnestly contemplated—just to completely remove themselves out of the equation.

“There’s less money to be spent and wasted if I’m not here, right?”

Desperation, it clings to the bruised necks of the needless like curved brier thorns, entangling itself inside fragile throats and lodging itself deeper and deeper with the softest cough, choking the sparest breath out of hope until all that’s left is a heartless fear—a fear of everything and nothing all at once, a fear for everyone else and yourself, a fear of the future, the present, and the past—until all that’s left is irrationality and logical foolishness; until all that’s left is reckless death wish.

Yet, even then, desperation still feeds ravenously. And it never starves.


Take a deep breath now
Pass the shallows

Stay steady and hold on
Through the darkness we all know…

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Filed under Prose

i’ve got a rusty crowbar to your arms that says you won’t do a damn thing

Let’s have no sadness, furrowed brow
There’s nothing new in dying now
Though living is no newer
Though living is no newer
And it was written in blood…


everyone’s doing it

it’s the latest thrill

set up sanity in rivets

for the latest pitiful kill

it makes you special

oh, ain’t you so brave

got miracles to pay for

and sins at the nave

got a little peach mark

and that fool’s little smile

hey trooper, you did it

you’re unique for a while

but blood doesn’t last

and fiction is just fiction

say that it stays forever

as you conjure up emotion

faker than those tears

sweet as your death breath

facade made for bitching

to write about yourself

but hey, get the comedown

and sleep the sorry away

it’s suicide season, baby

and you’re the latest trophy

everyone’s doing it

it’s the latest fucking bore

‘cause what’s a better fashion

than the sleeves you wore?


Like roses, we blossom then die
Like roses, we fall apart, like roses, we fall apart
Though living is no newer, though living is no newer
It was written in blood on a fucking suicide note
The day before he died…

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Filed under Poetry