Tag Archives: hate

open season

i have never told you a single thing

because i do not want you involved

i do not want you to get in the way

of such trainwreck i have devolved

if it was better for me, i would bite

they all say it’s what’s fucking right

but i know there’s not a damn point

there’s only cliche bullshit to anoint

of medication and invasive therapy

that leaves no personal room for me

and i do not want paid-for sympathy

nor will i waste my time for insanity

six years i’ve been dealing out alone

and i’m still alive right now, aren’t i?

i’ve done everything to keep it all in

fucked in the head with fucking lies

but i’m fighting back, broke apology

i cut my wrists, but never too deeply

i repress depression, relapse, release

i’ve people to pull me out of the seas

i still hope, i still dream, and i’ll love

i’m still disgustingly human by blood

i am damaged, but that does not mean

that i’m not trying to change anything

so please just stay away from this mess

and honestly, this is just all for the best

say it’s help my mind need endures, but

you just might end up making me worse.

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metal & skin (xxviii.)

A rusted blade

Complications

Truth unmade

Foolish notion

Healing scars

Condescension

Judged sparse

Say it’s wrong.

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metal & skin (xxvii.)

fuck you

and your

high-flung

dramatic

opinions

you don’t

know shit

about all this

so just leave

me alone.

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[c]harmed

i simply feel like screaming

‘til both my lungs detonate

and every bone in my body

breaks with the sheer force

of such fucking vocal strain

i just feel like bleeding out

until i can no longer sense

such phenomenon and the

consequences of my action

even then i’ll still be in pain.

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self-apology

i’m sorry

i’m breaking

i can’t keep

myself together

i’m sorry

for the veins

and all the ties

that i might sever

i’m sorry

that i keep on

throwing out any

attempts to be better

i’m sorry

i’m a fucking mess

and i’m sorry it’ll

stay that way forever.

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numb and number

why do i constantly

feel the need to fuck up?

even though the same

mistakes me always cost me

a blood excavation

is it because i just want

to find excuses to just keep

on relapsing? am i really

that messed in the head,

that i would need pain justified

to convince myself that i’ll

fucking need more of it?

for once, i wish i wasn’t capable

of writing until i’m as empty

as my pen and as indecipherable

as the paper i tore to shreds

i’m so sick and disgusted

of how i badly run my system

and really, the only option

is for the gears to stop working

or better still, fix what i can

with a quicker pharmacy visit

and offset an overdosed withdrawal

i just want to muffle it all

can’t i be allowed even that, at least?

can i just no longer feel?

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The Emptiness

I feel at home with shadows from ghosts of the living
I dance along to melodies as silent choirs sing
I’m sick of always giving when there’s nothing left to lose
That place we’re in is breaking, it’s trying to break me too…

~*~

Another day, another death.

I wake up, empty. Tired to the very bone, despite the fact that I slept for more than ten hours. The bed feels so cosy and comfortable, as rain serenades the windowsill and cold morning air nips at my feet, luring me back into a dull oblivion. As usual, I don’t want to live. I don’t want to get out of my bed and function mechanically, feeling nothing but nothing. But I have obligations. Responsibilities. Projects and procrastinated homework. So I get up sullenly and do what I can. Do what I should. Brace myself through the freezing shower. Dress up, scarf down breakfast, flag down a vehicle, go to school, socialise, do things, and try to make it through another day.

I started the day feeling shitty as usual, but halfway throughout it, things were looking up. I finished my crammed essays. I made some write-ups and started a story that I’ve been raring to write for ages. I got to catch up with my bands. I helped classmates out, actually recited, accomplished my quizzes and seatworks, actively participated in class. I finally got the thing I’ve been excited to receive the entire weekend. I ate great food and hung out and laughed with fine friends. For once, this was an honest to god day where I acted like a proficient human being, where I didn’t act up and was not my usual dysfunctional self. I did everything right.

So why does everything feel so fucking wrong?

I ended the day running halfway to my house, after having a complete breakdown in the middle of the public city and making people have to put up with the wreck that I am, and unnecessarily infecting them with whatever sad fucking irrational bullshit I was going through. I ended up nearly getting ran over by a bus, nearly missing my bus stop, fucking crying on a goddamn bus as guilt and goddamn pain internally ran me over. I ended up lusting for my vices for the millionth time, for a razor and a pill to infest my system, dying to relapse, living to die. I ended up empty, tired, and unfulfilled, the same way I wake up everyday, and the same way I am as I go to sleep.

I thought all this was supposed to make you feel stronger and make you desire for a greater life, not feeling vulnerable and washed out by the sun, sitting in your dark bedroom, anxious and wallowing, curled up in your own contrition and regretting everything, heaving emptily as everything drains the energy out of your existence. In the end, everything, all of it, writing, reading, songs, bands, fandoms, obsessions, friends, love, emotions, momentary bouts of faux happiness and vigilant but futile hope, it’s just mere distractions in the end. All just stupid petty little distractions to make it seem like there’s actually a chance to change. A chance for something better. A fighting chance for me.

But when all those distractions falter and fade away, I’m always left feeling ten, twenty, fifty times more miserable and pathetic than before; flooding at the gaps in my memory, making the permanent patches in my skin ache, intensifying the taste of the fucking bitter sick on my tongue. And I’m sorry. I want to be optimistic. I want to accept those butterfly pastel mantras and keep the faith. I want to keep on keeping on. I want to fight back and achieve something for myself. I want to make people proud, and make those who were thought I’d never be alter their perception. I want to see the glass-half full, not shatter it because I’m disgusted of my own reflection. I want to change. I want to believe.

I never wanted this. But somehow I can’t do jack shit about it. The only change I can see in myself now is that I’ve become more shameless, more degraded, and more screwed up than before. Anxiety, harder-hitting depression, cutting, drugs, invalid pain, panic attacks, mental breakdowns, bad decisions, I am a picture-perfect smorgasbord of everything that should never be put together. And now I don’t even bother hiding it anymore. I’ve given up trying to counter it. I’ve given up. I’ll always be cynical, and I’m screwed in the head and all fucked-up. Life feels like a constantly looming death sentence, and I want to be my own executioner. Nothing changes. Everything stays the same.

And if things went the way they were supposed to be, and I acted properly, did things right, played by the rules for once, and lived a normal, happy, fulfilling day, and the ultimate end of it all is feeling exactly the same as when I do the exact opposite, feeling that same crappy screw-all depression running through my failing system and ruining everything for me, then fuck it, what’s the point of even trying?

Why should I bother looking for something that isn’t even there?

~*~

I built these walls to keep the outside world from me
And I’ll fight to stay in the hell of my own mind
It’s safer on the inside, underneath where
You can’t ever get to me…

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Oblivisci Memoria Retinentes

And when the night time’s calling
And the rain starts falling
Will you still remember my name?
And when you’re out til’ morning
And the drinks keep pouring
Do you think you’ll feel the same?
I need to know, I need to know
Do you feel the same?

~*~

Do you remember

The night I said later

Climbed out the window

And left my calling card

On the dark side of the moon?

Do you remember

When you threw a taut rope

In the vainless hopes

Of returning the dying stars

Back to the breathless horizon?

Do you remember

The days when you slept alone

And my nightstand polaroid

Was a perennial reminder

Of the things you destroyed?

Do you remember

The dreams we painted on the ceiling

Now cracking and bleeding

Falling off in ugly peels of sterling

The prayers meant to be losing?

Do you remember

The things I’ve forgotten

In alcohol walkways

As I stayed up past eleven

This time in an empty pub haven?

Do you remember

What made you love this hate

When our veins faded away

Leaving a mess on tangled fate

And I’ve done nothing but to wait?

Dear, do you remember?

I can only hope it stays forever

Do you even remember my name

When again you forgot to call

I’ve kept these nightmares for a long time

Do you even remember me at all?

~*~

Sometimes when you love someone
You gotta let them go, let them go
Will you feel the same in the pouring rain?
Will you scream my name?

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breaking down

blood and rain

in blocked bathroom stalls

tears and water

a nervous angel’s last calls

blades and beds

numbed-down in narcotics

raw and regrets

jaded of existing semantics

lost and lusting

for tempted taste of demise

scarred and sorry

all these promises were lies.

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Scolding a Brick Wall

Redundant litanies

Burning out your tongue

Hoping the fire would catch

On paper hearts unstrung

Exhausting castigations

Shooting past two deaf ears

Don’t bother with accusations

No one’s listening, dear.

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