Tag Archives: hate

ammo

wake me up

before i wake

stumbling eyes

a grand mistake

.

and let me go

before you know

arrive but crash

our bleeding glow

.

so fake me out

before i’m fake

made of cement

hardened by hate

.

and take me slow

before you’ll show

call for an apology

but end with reload.

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Filed under Poetry

Baptism By Fire

Blink if you hear our signal
Our hands drip red with blood from clapping
When you hear the command
The sparrow ate our bread trails
Go east along this shadowed mountainside
If you wanna stay alive…

~*~

You stuck to the guns that grew behind your open back

I let you confuse me for a while, until you beat me black

But I still left all the pain between the spaces in my teeth

Picking barbed wire from my knuckles, I can’t even bleed

.

So now the party favour’s over, the running joke is getting old

I couldn’t even laugh at myself, you thought you had me so sold

But contempt is double-sided, their crude fence has collapsed

You’re nothing more than a brackish lie, a fast-forward relapse

.

But you stuck to the blunt razors you forged under your callused skin

When the devil beckoned you back, confident that you would finally win

But when I left my lacerations in the places you and the crowd could see

That was only for show and tell and the next one up in line is you, not me.

~*~

Well, you had pinched my arm to find light
And know that if this is real
I know how the emotion
Now I can’t sense when or if I get out
And I’m still wayside with myself…

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Queen of the Colony

Your brain’s a mess of ravenous ants

Crawling and spitting out of your tongue

Starved for some attention, crimson pincers

And beady eyes prying out for profanities

As if that was in my total control—as if

You didn’t leave blood for them to lap up

The drops you eagerly tore out of my wrists

Because life had you sucked fucking dry

And hollowed out to become a simple nest

For the fire ants that chewed through

Your deaf eardrums, and left your heart

Paralysed with their mindless poison—

Do you have the nerve to admit that you

Were wrong, or have they just disconnected

Your soft spine from your callous flesh as well?

So don’t go calling me your goddamn prey now

I won’t be the skin you’ll have left to feed

Your avaricious wiles crushed between

The grind of blunted teeth, the stale crystals

Of sugar left on the dinner table, because

I’ll cauterise my own wounds with your

Self-pity and shake your obnoxious grip off

Along with all the ants in your carved-out brain

If you have any left—no wonder you drove yourself fucking insane.

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Doubt Is Failure By Design

We’re born to fuck everything up, I guess.

No one asked for this. I’m like a festering scar on the dysfunctional mind of a starving shark who mercilessly shoved me overboard, and my flailing limbs are weighed down with rocks and paralysed with guilt, with shameful culpability, with the handed-down heirloom of a cursed name—a mere letter and punctuation away from completely unpronounceable—come now, black sheep, where’s your fucking wool?

Absolutely deplorable. Every success-story sycophant resolutely cringes away as if touched by the devil’s acid itself, their gold-plated stomachs turning at the mere mention of us, rolling diamond eyes watering viciously at the sight of our squalid hands reaching out to extinct stars and begging for a shred of respite, if any at all, overfed jesters laughing like relentless hyenas at the classic repertoire of victimised beggars choosing to be losers. No change. No mercy. Miserable. We asked for it, didn’t we?

I take a single step into the path I meticulously measured before finally deeming to be correct, and end up breaking somebody’s weak spine instead; clumsy foot easily slicing through vertebrae like a sharpened sword through snowfall. Another mistake. Another cautionary tale. I hear my dead ancestors wail a steady plangent caterwaul, as they eternally scream and admonish me from beyond the depths of inferno and then perhaps some—from where I shall soon be sharing their fate as I join in with their ever-familiar sickly cries. Another generation. Another bad blood. It’s almost comforting, now.

Oh, well. We fucking saw it coming and let it happen anyway, didn’t we?

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Filed under Prose

Mythomaniac

Now all that we have left
Are cemetery sites
Monuments of memories
To those we left behind…

~*~

Maybe I want to lie when I say I love you.

I’m a parasite without a paradise to satiate me

Apple red of your grin, quite serpentine in its charm

As I dare archangels to torment me some more

So they sent me you, calliope clarity, the cold chasm

In your chest I’m falling in, there’s no oncoming light

Only the dull glow of emergency exit signs still

Waiting for another passenger to murder, acid reflux

You momentarily choke and I lodge in your throat

Writhing, spit me out, spit me out, spit me out!

But it’s too late, I’m sinking beneath your teeth

You try to grind me out like a careless habit

Crushing iodine between your tongue to wash me

Out, nasty taste, aftertaste, truth and toothpaste

Pulled back to that exile of a sinful, destitute nobody…

No wonder you try to lie when I say I love you.

~*~

Here we are again
And we’re falling for it
You won’t find me there
‘Cause I’m already gone…

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Filed under Poetry

treachery, and then some

i’m the disconnect

the reset in the corner

of a lacerated brain

a troublemaker with a

causeless cause, if

only to destroy, if only

to wreck and rectify

if only to be the liability

that leaves beggars

and bastards cursing in

the end, cursive cry

hide myself with gaslight

to burn another home

and thrill all the stars with

these glinting claws

and fever dreams, allowing

me to pluck them out

and crush the last remains

beneath my own sins

so disconnect me—before

i scream once again

before their clocks retreat

after i’ve caused the

shame which left my own

bruised head in ruins.

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Don’t Slam The Door When You Go Away (You’re Starting To Bore Me)

Somewhere darker, talking the same shite
I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?
It’s harder and harder to get you to listen
More I get through the gears, incapable of
Making alright decisions and having bad ideas…

~*~

pointless reciprocation, calling up our meaningless demise

you watch over me like a beguiling raven in disguise

crooning, you know I’d kill for those blackberry-bruised eyes

.

don’t need to count off three, two, one—i know what you mean

i’m already there darling, set the fucking mirror on fire again

and decide if you want all the scars pulled off of your skin

.

in the closet, seven minutes, but i don’t need your tongue

to tell the inside of my mouth that we’re both having fun

i swear i’m already out of it, trying to reach for your sun

.

is it under your dirty shirt? behind that crooked smirk you wear?

is it in an open bottle of jäger and a late-night truth or dare?

go ahead and spin it faster and faster, you know i won’t be scared

.

of the monster in the midst, under your bed, against your lips

i never wanted a body, i only wanted to hold my breath before i sink

you wished to be clever, here’s your chance to win me overthink

.

were you trying to lie? handed me a smug smoke to hide it?

my phonebook’s full of strangers, something you won’t admit

but i’ll suffocate on your cancer, still addicted to that bullshit

.

so what do you say, next morning’s only one car crash away

and i won’t ask for coffee or minty words on the pillowcase

i only ask that you keep your secrets well-groomed and safe

.

from their mindless impersonations, falling out of our defenceless paper skies

i watch over you like a commuter in your passenger seat, trying to play nice

go ahead, you know i’d die all over again just to be the only one that you despise.

~*~

Now it’s three in the morning
And I’m trying to change your mind
Left you multiple missed calls
And to my message you reply
“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?
Hi, why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

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Filed under Poetry

mad now, like i was before

it’s in my head

cracking like gold

beaten-down

submissive lie

increase tenfold

not mine, not mine

self-respect the

problem i lack

the saccharine

you quietly have but

please not pleased

did you find out

can i get a place?

probably not

it’s too good for me

truth spelling out

a kind of agony that

i don’t enjoy but

i guess we can see

the things that i said

it will never be me

i’d rather be you

you’d rather be dead

so fucked-up and sold

you’re in my head

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Filed under Poetry

Scapegoat

Not lost, not blown away
Just irritated and quite hated
Self-control breaks down
Why’s everything so tame?
I like my life insane
I’m fabricating and debating
Who I’m gonna kick around…

~*~

Coat your catharsis

With repulsive medicine

Frustrated with tales

Where you’re not the victim

.

Your pity parade’s quite loud

But no one’s really listening

It was a laugh when it lasted

But now it’s three in the morning

.

And no one’s up for a fight

No one wants to see you lose

No one wants to admire your

Lips that quiver and bruise

.

So please keep it all for yourself

Or better yet, just keep it all away

Make sure to close the windows

And look after the wreck you made.

~*~

Right now, I feel it scratch inside
I want to slash and beat you
Right now, I rip apart the things
Inside that excite you
Right now, I can’t control myself
I fucking hate you…

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Filed under Poetry

Parts Missing

You’ve got a mouth like a running motor

And a family of mismatched gears, grinding

And gnashing furiously against rusted teeth

Shrieking, careening, holding sanity hostage

Turning all of your consolidated wrongs into

Your own personal brand of justified bullshit

As the rest of your brainwashed system starts

Automatically nodding along in pure assent

Necks pulled up, snapped limp, dangling in

Blank-slate eyes masking their lifeless cries

Idiots imitating your inescapable idiosyncrasies

I would hate to be blunt but maybe they deserve it

And the clamorous crashing of metal only sounds like

Music to your own bleeding ears, deafened by the violence

So spare me the pretence of a well-oiled dynamic, will you?

Because unlike them, I’m not one of your damaged fucking machines.

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Filed under Poetry