bruises fresh like lemonade

ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ғᴜᴄᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ;
ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

—

warm blood

mixes with

cold water

and sugar,

a spoonful;

is the citrus

stinging all

your veins

as it slowly

circulates?

rusty nickel

for a glass

metal taste

and chlorine

numb out

the arid heat

and all of the

playground

taunts, sweet

like sweat

and brutal fists

picking out

hard seeds

bones crunch

like melted

ice between

their teeth

but business

is business

even when

the blowflies

come home

so won’t you

try it out and

take a sip—?

it won’t hurt,

i promise.

—

ᴅ̷ᴏ̷ɴ̷’̷ᴛ̷ ̷ʏ̷ᴏ̷ᴜ̷ ̷ᴛ̷ʀ̷ʏ̷ ̷ᴛ̷ᴏ̷ ̷ғ̷ᴜ̷ᴄ̷ᴋ̷ ̷ᴡ̷ɪ̷ᴛ̷ʜ̷ ̷ᴍ̷ᴇ̷;̷
̷ᴅ̷ᴏ̷ɴ̷’̷ᴛ̷ ̷ʏ̷ᴏ̷ᴜ̷ ̷ʜ̷ɪ̷ᴅ̷ᴇ̷ ̷ʏ̷ᴏ̷ᴜ̷ʀ̷ ̷ʟ̷ᴏ̷ᴠ̷ᴇ̷.̷

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delays

the heat is addling

the corners of my eyes

bleeding with tears

that i so madly despise

.

crowds so dense

they all suffocate

as footsteps go on

of weary and late

.

i take a breath

but i can find none

fun was all fun

but now it’s all done

.

i’m stuck and bored

i don’t know why i try

“home sweet home”

has never been such a lie.

Telltale Weather

i love the rain

the weather’s pain

mirages left

on dull pavement

.

i love the sun

the weather’s fun

heat haze slows

on concrete glow.

midday

the heat is heavy

and cumbersome

and it presses down

every inch of my

slow-roasted flesh

down to my chest

into my choked lungs

now, i would inhale

but that would mean

that i’m voluntarily

letting the heat in

so i think i’m fine

holding my breath

for now, and waiting

until summer goes away.

This Uselessness is Murder.

I try to walk away, how has it come to this?
I’ve said it once, I’ve said it twice, I’ve said it a thousand fucking times
That I’m okay, that I’m fine, that it’s all just in my mind
But this has got the best of me, and I can’t seem to sleep…

~*~

Idling away with nothing but my butane thoughts

To reinforce the growing rot in my kindling head

Godforsaken memories ungraciously worm their way

Back from repressed twinge and into my unmade bed

Longing for a grandiose escape from this noetic asylum

I call my own mentality, as I keep desperately clawing

At the thin bleached walls of my own bleeding skull

But never shattering it completely, and only left dying

And I honestly just can’t fucking stand this sedentary state

Eyes left reduced to another silent ticking timebomb

Working my dull teeth’s grind like it’s a paying day’s job

Doing everything I can to keep myself blisslessly numb

And the worst part is when the overthinking kicks in

Hitting me straight in my fractured chest again and again until

I couldn’t breathe anymore, and until I would just about do

Anything, anything at all, just to distract myself and not to feel

And when the mollifying rain stops and the vengeful heat returns

To exacerbate the heavily-settling hell of a migraine inside

It’s all I can do to groan inhumanely and suffocate myself on the pillow

Realising wretchedly that summer hasn’t even started—and I’ve already died.

~*~

Every second, every minute
Every hour, every day
It never ends, it never ends
Every second, every minute
Every hour, every day
It never ends, it never ends…

third time’s the charm (when you’re lying to yourself)

finished finished finished

did my unfulfilling day’s work

afternoon reduced to chains and shackles

dragged like fingernails into the dirt

sweating sweating sweating

baseball caps melting in diligence

and left to suffer insufferably

under the severe heat and silence

aching aching aching

temples snap like rubber bands

not in the mood for smiling

i wish my headache would understand

.

static static static

music reduced to scatters

dragging deluded spirits further

into abyssal underwater

pacing pacing pacing

the zebra crossing inch by inch

hoping that screeching tires

would run me over like roadkill

waiting waiting waiting

for the tears that never come

frustrated and sedated

feeling betrayed by the sun

.

tired tired tired

to the very frayed nerves

a day’s worth ticking down the clock

each hour a penitence served

flinching flinching flinching

at the blood that whispers taunts

set me free and let me be

let sharp edges be your miscreant

broken broken broken

by the stress that’s making out

with barbarous depression

and violent-red lies heading south

stop it stop it stop it

but i’m too numb to even protest

i’ll just fall back into a devoid oblivion

and let my weakness take care of the rest.

upside

down

in every sense of the word

looking for a way

to distract my thoughts

against contrition

“i’m tired” i complain

as if i just wasn’t

already long used to it

left behind

by all the chatter

why am i still hoping?

“you fucked up

something again”

my mind screams at me

even though i know

i didn’t (did i?)

“i’m alone”

i mused dumbly

as if it wasn’t such

a daily norm

breaking blood

and draining bones

from its brewing storm

“the sun is murder”

melting away as the

heat and faceless crowd

further add to

this delirious stupor

“why am i still here?”

i want to go home

so i can seek death in peace

and be alone to feel

down

in every sense of the word.

false assumptions

don’t make

some foolish

assumptions

if you can’t

handle the heat

and never

make false

interferences

if you cannot

fix your own shit.

On Account of Accounting

Accounting lessons; 1:00 PM. There’s a dull humming invading every comatosed whim of my numbed-down senses, as my wandering stare loses its attention from the blackboard and stays to the harshly glaring rays of the stupor-inducing sunshine. Perspiration trickles solemnly down my neck, a steady saline river of liquid ennui, scribbling fluid retrospections on my scoliosis-slouch back. Nothing else makes much sense but senselessness. The discussion goes on, and the teacher, god bless her, but her voice is beginning to melt into the sound of the faceless grownups in a classic Peanuts movie, and I’m the exasperated Charlie Brown looking comically tired and uttering my disappointed interjection of ″Good grief.″ I sigh inwardly at the depressing thought. A speck of dirt flies past my jaded drooping eyes, almost taunting me as it basks in all its glorious and dignified freedom, and I can hear a squeaky voice at the back of my head blowing raspberries and chanting ″You’re stuck and forced to endure this torture and I’m not, suck it loser!″. I send it away with an aloof glare and a whiff of carbon dioxide from my dry cracked lips, and the high pitched voice trails away with an indignant Darth Vader yell of NOOOOOO, as the dirt speck finally disappears from my line of vision. Yes, I am seriously picking quarrels with infinitesimal matter. I am either very much insane, or have transcended all the limits of human boundaries and am, in fact, an omniscient god who can communicate with inanimate objects. An audible laugh accidentally escapes my throat in a choked hiss at such ludicrousness, and I hastily attempt to cover it up with a weak and pathetic cough. I clamped one heavily-doodled hand to my mouth to prevent any further unfortunate situations, as the teacher’s pupils (well, the ones on her eyes anyways, not the students) twitch in suspicion and scan the tepidly simmering room, ears perked up and nostrils slightly flared in alarm. I duck, scratch on my soaked neck awkwardly, and feint nonchalance by pretending to copy down notes in order to avoid her accusing eye contact, earnest visage etched on my face as I am actually writing this down. The sunlight tears against the glass panes more invasively than before. The room grows stuffier and unbearably hot, the students sliding into a gregarious and palpable grudge, the teacher’s voice sounding more and more like a drone of disturbed angry wasps, buzzing and incoherent. There is nothing else to do but further degringolade into the void of boredom as my neurone flickers off and commits suicide one by one. I hang my head back and absentmindedly gape at my besmirched hands, the vantablack Sharpie ink on my tanned skin shimmering as it separated itself from the dermis and began to float upwards like helium balloons, calligraphic band member names and splintered song lyrics dancing and fusing in an amalgamation of odd letters and incomprehensible symbols, right before my delirious hallucinating eyes. The sky grows temporarily dislimned as the vicious sun gets blocked off and hides behind a passing temperamental cloud. The students become a caricature tableaux of a cautionary cry for help, melting into human puddles along with their creaking plastic armchairs. The unknowing teacher rambles on, lost and deafened by her own static white noise. The cycle continues. It’s official: I am clearly very much insane.

Winter Heart

summer kites

they danced

on the sunny sky

as the heat

escaped outside

with a sigh

colours splatter

against the

pale cool blue

the sunlight

resonated

its diadem hues

the vista

distorted with

heat waves

and sticky sweat

trickled down

warm naves

as sweet sodas

were passed

right on cue

to help endure

the highest noons

in construe

the weather was

as tepid as

we were told

and yet

i still wonder

why i feel so cold.