Tag Archives: give up

Contaminated Chemistry

Tungsten eyes will wage a futile war

With hearts so big and minds so small

They saw it coming, but what’s the problem?

You speak of fear and love, but what until then—?

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Crying wolf won’t keep your hands alive

It’s just another bend, it’s just another night

Giving up is contagious, and I’ll just take the cue

I’m done with being finished, what about you?

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But the edge of my seat is more comfortable than ever

And the tip of your blade won’t hold me forever

Let’s call a truce before one ends up bleeding in their bed

So let’s call a truce before the winner ends up defeated.

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Just a Pale Shade of Rosy Vision

And I want you to stop insisting that
I’m not a lost cause ’cause I’ve been through a lot
Really all I’ve got is just to stay pissed off, if it’s alright by you
But hearts are breaking, and wars are raging on
And I have taken my glasses off, you got me nervous
When you’re turning it into a joke…

~*~

I don’t know if I’m going to college. I know what I want to do, but I don’t know if I’ll make it.

Obviously, she says I’m being irrational with my decisions because I’m still hopeful, optimistic, just another manic boy seeing the damned dark world through rose-coloured glasses and floral idealisms, too naive and gullible for my own good, covertly trusting in demons masked with shiny halos.

She should’ve seen me nearly bleeding out in the middle of the night because I was too tired for anything else, because I felt like I wouldn’t be able do do anything more useful with my existence. She should’ve seen me doing it again a week after. And again and again and again. She should’ve seen me giving up.

At this point, these foolish little dreams of mine are all I have. They’re insane, yes, and most likely impossible, but who am I to turn it away? When I’m left with nothing but screaming nightmares, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me at bay, keeping me going on, keeping me alive, because everything and everyone else has given up on me. Including her.

Yes, maybe I can be such a selfish idealist sometimes, that much I acknowledge. But is it so wrong for me to want for more than just a stable job? A cash-grab career? A walking ATM fountain? Is it so wrong for me to want to be happy, or at the very least, be content with what I do, to see, experience, and feel more, to be more than just to be another greased cog in this broken machine they call a society?

Apparently, it is. Stupid child, listen to the adults, because they know more than you ever will, and you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment and failure. Since it’s so dumb of me to be hopeful, then what’s the fucking point of trying? Is being a sad, jaded, and washed-up individual all I have to look forward to in the future? Is it the only standard I should ever set for myself because everyone else ended up doing it? Because she ended up doing it? Because it’s the only sure and rational thing left in this ever-changing and cutthroat world?

If so, then nothing else should matter. Because I don’t want to have to live for it anymore.

~*~

Just let me cry a little bit longer
I ain’t gon’ smile if I don’t want to
Hey, man, we all can’t be like you
I wish we were all rose-coloured too…

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The Weakness

And as I’ve aged, the only thing I think has changed
Is that the demons have moved from under my bed
Into the inner depths of my head
I can’t escape the ugly things my mind creates
I speculate that they’ll stay with me ’til the grave…

~*~

I scream to the wreck of my mind on my knees

Pray for death’s innocence for my untimely release

When the hurt is too little, the numb is too much

When I want to feel more but I’m just too detached

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“The disease is not real, you have no right to be sad”

Their way of caring is not caring when I start to get bad

Waiting to understand, when every time is just a relapse

Swing the pendulum again until lines on my skin overlap

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And their laughter becomes a never happily ever after

I escape in the bedroom with that ugly mocking mirror

When home feels like choking fingers around my throat

I splash my face with dreams to convince myself to cope

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Thinking that someday soon I will be just who I want to be

But when I say the words, it just feels like lip-syncing to me

I’m on the brink of the bottomless cliff, but I refuse to jump

Because a fool is just another fool waiting for the right bump

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So I scream to the wreck of my mind to grow some wings

And pray for life’s corruption for me to be finally released

When giving up is too easy, and it’s difficult to fucking hope

I cling to what little miserable faith I have and try not to let go.

~*~

I can’t help the way my mind
Is hardwired to hate myself
Is there any hope for me?
‘Cause I swear that this is hell
The way I desperately try to save myself
‘Cause I can’t save myself…

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Filed under Poetry

Suicide is Imperative; Dying is Relative

Stop me before I go to waste
For every heart that’s born can easily be torn away
I can’t comply to this state of consciousness
That we call life, and though I stand here to perish
I will stand here ’till I die…

~*~

Suicide is such a selfish word, isn’t it?

An exquisite hum never to be whispered

And muttered under cautious hushed breaths

But don’t let your sweet little girl pull the trigger

And send her down along to her early death

It’s the last resort to someone who has nothing

Failure is relative, but then again so is dying

An easy way out, you don’t need to leave a note

Be an open ending with your last pages never wrote

Jealous hearts seek clarity in forms of twisted mentality

Bladed sobriety, I wish someone would find me

But no dares to ask, and no one dares to kindle and ignite

The bonfire that might burn down the entire midnight

The attempts I’ve hidden behind star-spangled band-aids

The promises thrown away like an extinguished hand grenade

Guilt, pain, contrition shaken up like a secret toxic potion

Three cheers and toast to us, and here’s to murderous emotions

For the lifelines we destroyed, the stars that will outlast

The existence that will never be, the sulphurous bite of the past

For giving up the ghost so hard the grim reaper gets chills

For the recovery that is bullshit misery, for all the numbing thrills

Don’t decode the snarled banter, dying’s really just entertaining

A childish amusement, they say it’s serious, but why am I laughing?

It’s so easy to throw yourself to the vultures instead of the sharks

There’s nothing left to be salvaged if you’re already torn apart

Suicide, it’s such a disgustingly beautiful word, isn’t it?

For the bruised minds that keep slipping under the lack of leverage

Three unlucky syllables can never sum up all the sussurous pleas

Never to do it, for our spines never to be avaricious nor weak

But sometimes, enough is just fucking enough, isn’t it?

Never mind the big picture of the future if the details are flawed

The decades I have left won’t compare to the halcyon thought

For the peaceful centuries of eternity that my corpse has left to rot

Life is difficult. I should just kill myselfshouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I?

~*~

Stop me from making more mistakes
Fallen friends have learned their lessons
Fate their teachers taught them all too late
Don’t teach me too late, just hide me from my fate…

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Filed under Poetry

The Liars’ Roll Call

They tell you to keep drinking

When you’re tired of one cup

They tell you to keep breathing

When you simply want to stop

They tell you to keep speaking

When you’ve already shut up

They tell you to keep falling

When you’re already on top

They tell you to keep fighting

When you’re shouting enough

And they tell you to keep living

When all you wanna do is give up.

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Filed under Poetry

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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Filed under Poetry

A Covetous Call Of Clarity

Just like a tick, I’m itching the back of your throat
You miss the beat while I’m hanging on every note
You gotta choke cause you swallowed a problem
Not gonna take this, not gonna take this!

~*~

I despised your guiling swords of histrionic eloquence

Sharp tongue slashing cuts to the point of garishness

Every clanking word like an aged hard treacle in its tartiness

Your kisses causing me tooth decay and imminent stress

.

“Oh you silly bird, I’m not a threat” you oh-so silkily assured

And how careless it was of my ineptitude to believe that

All your prior motives were bleached white, strikingly pure

I bit on the card, despite the murky venom you clearly spat

.

How was I, a desperado, to have foretold this tragedy?

How was I to surmise that you’ve hidden a weightless dice?

When I look back on your lifelines, your inscribed litanies

All I envision is an ostentatious parade of chromatic lies

.

Where was my head in all of these? Distorted in the grey clouds

That you created with every breath as you sat smoking your pipe

A most rancid smell, yet intoxicating, of tobacco compound

But I was too indulged in the bittersweet nicotine to fight

.

“Oh, I’m an incarnadine goddess, a quite reliable vial of blood

Just let me be your saving grace, let me be your TNT spark”

And I let you flambeaux up the resting embers in my chest

And despite all my cautious prayers, I detonated nonetheless

.

Now where do I stand? Sullenly relaying your past discourse

The way an ashen-faced prisoner would steal a fallen lamplight

Just to read his personal announcements, bereft and morose

Clutching tightly a letter about his execution by hanging tonight

.

I’m defeated by your idiosyncrasies, your imagination is a tight rope around my neck

It pains me to even conjure the thought that to your fabrications I’ve been a gracious host

In the end, it all comes down to a single statement, a mouth with a flair for the dramatic

I’ll let your virtuoso hands pull the trapdoor lever, fingers trembling as I give up the ghost

.

A final violent shade of verdure is beginning to spread, clashing against my bruise-blotched cheeks

Blossoming briskly, an ironic requiem, though I’ve sorely wished for nothing but for them to already wilt

Somehow those sentimental chemicals in my asphyxiated brain keep acting as a mercurial fertiliser score

My last deathwish is that you’d be kind to pluck them from my heart, loved one, after all, what’s a single tear more?

~*~

I swear your head is bigger than us all, getting bigger
Go slit your own throat, slit your own throat!
You’re more turned on than anyone could be by yourself
Go slit your own throat, slit your own throat!

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Filed under Poetry