Tag Archives: fault

enough said

You wanna move mountains? Go ahead
I think I’ll suffocate instead
A change of scenery won’t tame
The endless earthquakes in my head
They’re all in my head, so I’ll suffer through
A means to an end, it’s all I can do…

~*~

i’m not the one at fault

but i’m the only cause you see

so i have to take the effect

what do you want me to do?

i’ve cut myself up until

both my mind and veins are drained

but not of all the guilt that i carry

and still, would it be enough?

would it be enough for you?

.

i’m just so tired of waiting

until i stop being such a fucking liability

and i start being your healthy host

that you parasites can ravage

just so i could atone for what i did

or at least just so you would see it that way

because what else is there?

saying “i’m sorry” when i don’t mean it?

that wouldn’t be enough for you, would it?

.

but then again, it’s my fault

for being way too fucking optimistic

i don’t accept good and bad luck

and that this time i struck out

no, it’s all about positives and negatives

call it a karmic irony, if you may

find a way to be a little happy for once

and life drags you down through 7 layers of hell

tell me, loved ones, was i never enough?

.

and i couldn’t even write about it

because you’d call me selfish and shallow

that i have no right to be depressed

because i’m living the “good life”

and that i see only myself in all this

well, of course i fucking do

i need to place myself somewhere

otherwise i wouldn’t see the bigger picture

but don’t you see, loved ones?

will you never see that i’ve had enough?

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first act, insanity; next stop, recovery

“I never meant to hurt nobody
I never meant to hurt you, no, no…”

~*~

acrid laughter is ringing in my ears

good-natured, perhaps, to them

but the sound pierces like twisted barbed wires

straight through the caliginous corners

of my teeth, bared like a regurgitated heart

and almost—if not just as—crimson

as the fucked-over severity in my demented head

but sometimes it feels good to simply pretend

that the banter is a little less than risque

and i let my agitation be fooled…what an idiot.

as i’m sorry plays like a stenographic record

etching deeper grooves in the back of their stares

but never playing the right kind of music

am i screaming a typhoon in your clear day parade?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i want to cut it out

i want to cut my fingers open to point it out

and take all the sharp-edged blame all for myself.

but my testy temper rides on the flexible bullet

severely mutilating this nascent entertainment

that masqueraders and pantomimists have played

for the melancholic, esoteric, plastic actor

and you insisted on applause and receptivity

despite my initial protests against it all

for i am not your contagious chemistry audience

but i surrender my scab blood to you anyway

and keep clapping on and on until my hands fall apart

like a marionette’s lamenting swan song;

like this borrowed skin that sheds itself as we speak.

their laughter is mutating into vicious sneers

stabbing like blunt edges of a mangled fountain pen

and making me grit my shattered teeth—

your fogged-over eyes interpreting it as a smile

amused, but i’m simply bemused by my endurance.

i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m so fucking tired.

of the teasing testing taking terrors tampering

with my dysfunctional mood, its revolution ever retrograde…

it’s not your fault. did i ruin your sunshine again?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.

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Native Tongues

How can they say that it’s one way
When it’s the opposite?
And how can they know the end
Of the story before I tell it?
‘Cause when I walk, your feet
They fall to the same beat
Or maybe we’re from two different worlds…

~*~

We used to be the epitome of mindless materialism

Taking apart brick and coin for a little inkling of fun

We talked away in circles, but never in infinity signs

But it didn’t last forever ‘cause we both wanted to die

.

For I never understood why you didn’t ever understand

Until we’re left with empty voices and mismatched hands

I translated it all wrong, you decoded nothing but misery

We spoke in undecipherable tongues, so now we’re history

.

Why did we waste such eloquent words on each other’s lies?

Breathing out sombre songs that never synced the beat right

Wrought desiccated eyes with apertures that flashed blindly

And we set out separate restrictions from the cold apologies

.

We turned back but never forward and we took a couple steps

Too far until we hit the brick walls, this was far beyond any help

How could we plead that it was one-way, intersections opposite

When the fault was a double-edged tongue talking about bullshit?

.

But behind this dead mess, I do admit I enjoyed all the endless chaos

Riding the hurricane with you, and making my own cyclone at a loss

I wish you the same, and let me say I hope you don’t regret and think

Don’t forget the secrets we shared when our native tongue goes extinct.

~*~

We talk to people
But they never understand
They think we’re crazy
‘Cause it sounds like noise to them
Ain’t it strange, all the things you hear
When you sit and listen?

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the familiar taste of poison

Drink the wine, my darling, you said
Take your time and consume all of it
But the roses were only to drain my inspiration
The promises were spoiled before they left your lips and…

~*~

treacherous poison

that’s all you have in your blood

and you infected me

you infected me

yet you blamed me solely for the taint

saying it was my filthy tongue

and its harsh truth words

saying that it was all my fault

it was all my fault

i attempted to get rid of the dirty blood

purging and expelling until i nearly bled out

and still, i can’t get rid of it all

i can’t get rid of it all

you called my ritual a crime

an unforgivable transgression that should

be shunned and immediately cured

as if the sickness wasn’t in the blood

the sickness wasn’t in the blood

so pray tell, was it my sin

to vain uselessly to dissociate from you

and from your corrupted veins

coursing through every offspring you have

toxic brainwashing every single one

and further spreading it to the crashing tree

transmitting and scattering rapidly until it promptly rots

until it promptly rots

now you threaten to disown me

but it’s the kindest thing you could ever do to me

because i’m tired of having to live through

all your sanctimonious ideals

and profane vitriol brewing in your decayed heart

but even then, it wouldn’t completely get rid

of the poison you passed on to me

you passed on to me

and i will concoct more spite in my mind

and spit out evil blood

in the pure eyes of the innocent

damaging others as you have damaged me

you have damaged me

i wish i was someone else whose

hatred isn’t malignant and contagious

but hell, what else can i do? it runs in the family

it runs in the family.

~*~

I could fight this ’til the end
But maybe I don’t want to win
I breathe you in again just to feel you
Underneath my skin, holding on to
The sweet escape is always laced
With a familiar taste of poison…

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teeth that bite

did i say

something

wrong again

or did my

tongue slip?

did i do

something

to break

down that

stiff upper lip?

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From Cathedral Confessionals To Vacant Motel Rooms

Give us this day our daily dose
Of faux affliction, forgive our sins
Forged at the pulpit with forked tongues
Selling faux sermons, cause I am a new wave
Gospel sharp, and you’ll be thy witness
So gentlemen, if you’re gonna preach
For God’s sake, preach with conviction!

~*~

Prayers at the pulpit, wasted sunlight stalked in grey

Cunning trick and guileful guilt trip theatrics at play

Cavalier coronary effusion, witnesses plead the fifth

The parish resident contradicts, as all the crosses lift

.

Glory conceived in savage strokes of bloodied wines

My conviction is an eviction, tell a jury lies this time

Plagued with gunslingers, spinsters, character shady

Debonair diner apparels, wrinkled trousers, humility

.

The constabulary and congregation condemned revolt

My empirical altruism’s the new cancer, neglect faults

Burlesque shame accentuating formaldehyde intimacy

Asbestos lips, flimsy camisole fumbled simultaneously

.

Tenant engaged medical malpractice, his landlord buys

Epileptic gloating and impertinence, furlough play nice

Sartorial sarcasm and wills held against the desperation

Divorcees eavesdrop on prudent prudes, commiseration

.

Perfumes and newspaper advertisements crying of weddings

Massacring a breathalyser, scotch in prefaced elevator scenes

A paperback syndication concealing secret wretched incident

The allegations made by schizophrenics held to be significant.

~*~

Strike up the band! Whoa-oh, the conductor is beckoning
Come congregation, let’s sing it like you mean it
No, don’t you get it, don’t you get it? Now don’t you move
Just stay where I can see you, douse the lights!

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metal & skin (xxx.)

i’m sorry

that i did it

but i’m not

sorry for you

and i don’t

fucking regret

the lies i spit

maybe it’s

all my fault

for wanting to

see something

heal and fix

itself in my life

you don’t need

to understand

and i don’t need

to explain myself

i don’t want help

because this is it

so fucking take

that away from

me too, won’t you?

maybe this time

i’ll resort to using

a sharper knife.

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Burying Nevus

It was a few steps forward, twice removed, seconds away from pulmonary distress. The rough patches of ocher blisters felt like frozen ice lodged in his windpipe, a cowardly conviction that he wouldn’t dare speak. His fault. His mistake. His responsibility. Him, a filthy traitor. The constricting bracelets felt like bleeding handcuffs, prosecuting him for his blithe misunderstanding. This was never my intention, yet why am I riddled with disorienting guilt? One voice asked in attrition. It’s not you to blame if you didn’t know. Awareness is key. Another reasoned out calmly. Ignorance is the enemy of reason. A third entity argued in hostility. Every choice made sense, thus, he told them all to shut up so he could think. He bit down on his raw cheek until bile flooded his throat and metastasised as an abrasive lump. The bloodied bruise tasted like a salty alibi in his mouth. He submerged his soberness in liquid regret until it drowned, and sunk in inebriation. After he could think no longer, he made his final decision. He carried through. He knew it was unfathomably wrong, fatally so. But it was warranted.

It was just another scar tissue he had to permanently hide.

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Six: bloodspill

it’s

my

fucking

fault,

isn’t

it?

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metal & skin (xvii.)

the guilt

of the fault

is not in

your hands

somewhere

inside me

this is always

what i want.

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