Tag Archives: feelings

Just Making Conversation

Say what you’re mad at me for, me for
Yeah, why you talk that evil, yeah
That’s not the way you show love, show love
No love, no love, no no
Say what you’re crying at me for, me for
Try to control your ego, yeah…

~*~

No hard feelings

But how’s the rocks

Coursing in your veins?

.

I know you’ll say that

It fucking hurts like hell

But you enjoy the pain

.

No hard feelings

But how’s feeling sorry

Working out for you so far?

.

I know that you’ll just

Laugh like a humourless act

So why bother going far?

~*~

‘Cause I got all the things I wanna say
But nothing’s coming out
And all the times I came to you
But never ever lied…

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anatomical dissection: brain

what hurts more,

remembering to forget

or forgetting to remember?

.

you count all the wins

and all the pyrrhic losses

that take your victories under

.

what hurts more,

the scars on your shoulders

or the scars inside your mind?

.

invisible to the naked eye

but a succumbing force that

makes you lose what you’ll find

.

what hurts more,

staying for the sake of leaving

or living for the sake of staying?

.

lock the pain up in your room

and hope this house burns down

with you still trapped inside, crying

.

what hurts more,

all the words that they said

or the words you never spoke?

.

sticks and stones don’t break bones

but splints and cement puts them back

quietly mending what you always broke

.

what hurts more,

knowing too much of everything

or drowning in your own ignorance?

.

scourge for knowledge, miss for bliss

drain the oceans and fill up the abyss

self-hatred fighting your self-defiance

.

what hurts more,

this cold logical ideology

or the lying sentimental truth?

.

it’s a constant push and pull

of devastating dreams and riled reality

inspiring like the rabbit inspires the wolf

.

what hurts more,

overthinking things again

or not thinking about it at all?

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Let’s Talk About Not Talking About It

Well I’m sick of it, over it, however you want it said
I’m telling it straight ’cause it might be the only chance I get
Just shut up, just shut up, would you stop telling me who I am?
I’m sick of it, over it, however you want it said…

~*~

Some people find it really easy to write about themselves.

I respect them for that. For being able to express innermost thoughts and more private sentiments in articulate ways, and for having that certain imbued capability in their writings where other people could read their catharsis and be able to feel all their emotions, sympathise with their plights, and look at the world in another perspective, in their own personal perspective. Of course, even if they can’t exactly relate to whatever situation that person is caught up in, they could still nod their head understandingly, dole out some hopeful dime-a-dozen platitudes, and perhaps even offer some needed advice to them, just as normal human beings should.

Whenever I attempt to write about myself, my life, or my current feelings, I tend to drown it in cryptic nuances and fuck-all metaphors that are so incredibly twisted to the point where even I don’t find any sense in it anymore. That’s why I’m more adept with poetry than prose, and why I find music to be the most therapeutic outlet for myself, above anything else. And also why I hate the shit out of essays and formal writing so much. But in the rarest blue-moon times when I try to abandon that sort of familiar style and write something that’s concise and straight to the point, in simple words that are the closest to the truth, it always makes me so disgusted with myself because I always sound like I’m whining too much and making such a big deal out of nothing. And even then, I couldn’t help but add way too much labyrinthine sentences and complicated head-scratching quips to sugarcoat the naked ugliness of it all. Case in point, this very write-up itself. Sweet irony to further press the point.

I’ve always found it difficult to talk about myself. I don’t know exactly what what happened to me that made me turn out to be this way, but whenever I try to open up, a million desperate hands pull me back inside as a thousand alarm bells seem to scream and flash red lights inside my head, all of these, all at once, giving me a major dose of anxiety that takes a long while to wear off. I never know how to be completely honest without feeling awkwardly uncomfortable, and vice versa, it’s a great struggle for me when people start getting too real and personal with me. I tend to be a very secretive person, and I’m not a great support to come running to when you got problems and need to talk it out, because I’ll probably just intensify the headache that you already have and turn it into a full-blown migraine. Trust me, some of what-unsurprisingly-scant friends I have can testify for that fact in front of a court jury with both their hands on the bible.

(But on the plus side, being a secretive person also means that I’m basically Fort Knox when it comes to keeping the secrets of other people, so…redemption??)

I try my very best to be comforting and truthful when times call for it, but somehow, I could never completely shake off that vague feeling of uncertainty, that constant nagging voice at the very back of my mind that tells me that I’m doing something wrong, or tells me that I’m not doing enough, or tells me that I’m fucking overcompensating, or whatever stupid made-up issues it has with my attempt to act like a decent human being. I’ve always just found it easier to repress everything, every difficulty and emotion that’s going on in my overwhelmed mind, to simply keep it all to myself no matter how dire it is, rather than to bother anyone else with it, and I’ve always found it easier to keep people at a ten-foot pole’s length with acerbic witticism and sarcastic dismissals, because when they get too close, someone would always get hurt, and it always ends in a devastating fallout.

To put it shortly, I don’t know how to be empathetic. And I don’t know how to make people empathise with me. Up to now, I’ve always convinced myself that it was my biggest strength.

But perhaps…it just might be my greatest weakness.

~*~

I know I have issues
But I don’t need to hear it coming from you
It’s something that I’ll work through
The beating of my heart’s not stopping anytime soon
It’s not stopping anytime soon…

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How Heartless

I don’t know how to love

Without looking superficial

I feel in the wrong places

And no one’s ever too special

I don’t know how to love

In the way that they call “real”

I set my soul in right times

And no one would ever be mine.

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a mindless monologue

The blood, the blood, the blood of the lamb
Is worth two lions, but here I am
And I slept in last night’s clothes and tomorrow’s dreams
But they’re not quite what they seem…

~*~

i need some therapy

and a hundred seconds alone

i need room to breathe

and support from the bleed

i need to stay silent

and talk my problems out

find another friend to bother

and do nothing but joke around

i need to admit something’s wrong

that i can’t do this by myself

i need to keep myself going

and be just a little more strong

i need bitter medication

i don’t know why i stopped

guess i don’t want to be an addict

my brain feels fogged and rough

i need to hurt myself less

throw away my blades and insecurities

i don’t want to keep companions

and end up in a fit of jealousy

i need to absolve all my mistakes

to stop hurting the people around me

always on the brink of an apology

i need to stop being—and feeling—sorry

i need to channel my thoughts safer

but i just don’t have the skill or talent

i can’t make anyone any promises

and my future is scary and hellbent

i need to keep on dreaming

but not too much to drown in the tides

i need to stop worrying neurotically

about what’s what and the right of rights

i need to be me and more than this

i want to figure myself out before it’s too late

to be assured of myself, the things i can do

to provide myself with no more of hate

i know i can never undo the long-term damage

caused by my self-destructive ways

but i know that i could always be better

than what i think i deserve—i need to change.

~*~

I can move mountains
I can work a miracle, work a miracle
I’ll keep you like an oath
“May nothing but death do us part…”

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Needle and Thread

You watch me bleed until I can’t breathe
I’m shaking, falling onto my knees
And now that I’m without your kisses
I’ll be needing stitches…

~*~

It’s all I can do to move past the stark vitriol and hurt

When you dragged me backwards teeth-first, down into the dirt

Like it even mattered which side you and I were even on

Because in the end, I always lost—and you always won

My mouth was full of roses when you started to bleed

Inject the venom straight in my veins, isn’t that what you need?

The morphine leaves my eyes dry and my heart feeling numb

But the side effects were fatal, my breaths tried not to succumb

To the excruciating pain everywhere that refused to wear off

When I kicked back on withdrawals, I screamed my throat rough

I begged it all away for the sake of a higher intake glucose

But the saline dripping turned to rivers of a medicated overdose

Are you satisfied now, medical man, after all that you’ve done?

Should’ve smothered my face with a pillow instead, it’s easier to flatline

But you fooled me into liking torture, even got the signature for my consent

So I can’t blame your hospitality for drowning me under hard cement

Now it’s all I can do to bandage my wounds and lick on the healing pain

Sew my unraveling stitches until empty black holes are all that ever remain

And it never mattered which side was playing the victor and the victim

Because in the end, you will never lose—and I will never win.

~*~

I’m tripping over myself
Aching, begging you to come help
And now that I’m without your kisses
I’ll be needing stitches…

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mental block. (3)

***

why did

i say

s o r r y

when

i was not?

***

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mental block. (2)

***

you were a

constellation

but i just didn’t

know how to

connect the dots.

***

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Lie to the Truth

When I started out writing you this song
I was heels over head in love, but you had your doubts
‘Cause it took too long to finally see what I
What I’d been doing wrong…

~*~

My brain no longer contracts

Or twists in circles at the thought

My blood no longer circulates

And my heart fails to leap a beat

.

Oh, this tragedy of fugacious whims

Beating down the numb with too much sense

Compromising to entangle red strings

Hoping that two souls would starve the same

,

But three’s a crowd, and the painful hunger persists

It’s time to throw one or the other to the tides

The way of happy reality is just a sorrowful mystery

As double half-truths last longer than the truth

.

I attempt to convince myself of the erroneous fact

As if that would save the submerging illusion

Pretend I’m not drowning under as I take on water

And hold the hands of the heavyweight elation

.

Feelings disappearing before orion storms wash away

Agitated pulse screaming of kerosene fires and laudanum

Pulling my drifting self behind in a cage of indecision

Before all that I have is confiscated from my faltering eyes.

~*~

We tried to be true but you still loved him so
I’ll keep my distance and lie to the truth
I lie to the truth, I lie to the truth’
Cause you lied to it too…

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a specific kind of hurt

hurtful twinges

filling up every

corner of my

expanding coroner’s

disease; debilitating,

destroying, until

what’s left of me

is nothing

.

hurtful twinges

crashing down every

space of my

suffocating mental

affliction; desperate,

decaying, until

what’s left of you

is nothing.

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