Tag Archives: help

Halo Blue

Systematic shutdown, and one by one my optimism closes

You pulled the plug on the starlight that keeps me awake

I may not be in my melting point, but I’m still a hot-lead mess

I think I’d rather stay dead than to keep my tongue fake


There’s nothing else I would feel if not for our blue hair bet

But mine is deep ocean dark, yours is a bubblegum ice cream hue

Even if we blended together, we can’t ever be a scarlet sunset

Does that mean we should just stop trying? I say it’s all up to you


I’m usually full of shit, but I like you and I don’t like anyone, hey

You’re one of my favourite few, and if I were well-versed, I could say

That my eyes are only four glimpses away from reaching your sun

But I’m not, so I guess all I can say is a cliche point-blank ‘you’re fun’


Fine, it’s not all about me and my sadness, but I don’t have to care

I’ve been withholding my cries for help ever since I discovered it was there

I might not be cool enough for your cult, but I wanna join the club

Of the haters asking for another lobotomy and demented idiots equally in love


With this systematic shutdown’s taking over, one by one my cynicism closes

And you pulled out the wires and circuits to turn off the stars that burned into my sleep

I don’t think I’m thinking straight from thinking about your thoughts all the time

But I would rather stay down than to keep lying to myself about what I can take and keep.


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The Blondes Are (Not) Alright

Blew motivation I had
To make my still beating-something
Not hurt that bad
Haven’t been home in some months
I haven’t loved myself
Just watching friends online
Look like they need some help…


I brought a knife to a shootout

But I’m not looking for a fistfight

I don’t mean to get too bloody

I just wanted to feel a little alright


But it’s difficult to make amends

When you’re holding the trigger

And kiss the muzzle to my mouth

Before I plead for it to get better


Bang bang bang, do you feel it yet?

Don’t drop that dime to take a bet

If I die now on the pavement curb

I’ll try not to bleed out on your shirt


I brought awkward to the limelight

I hear it’s the latest fashion show

I don’t mean to flaunt my mistakes

I just wanted everyone to know


That it’s hard to feel sorry

When you’re feeling sorry for yourself

They said I’m being crazy

Like condescencion’s good for my health


Clap clap clap, do you feel regret?

Hold on to plastic, it’s not over yet

I’ve got about three more acts to go

And the script makes to take it slow


I brought a friend to a death match

Just to see who’ll take the first move

I don’t mean to make it too chaotic

Just seeing if you would if you could


I never ask about the when, what, or why

I’ve been standing here thinking all was fine

But then the situation changed to see you

Spitting comments on the shoes I just shined


Blah blah blah, will you ready get set?

You’re the best nothing I’ve ever met

Too cool for the beatdown that ensues

Tie my hands to the bomb, I had no clue


I brought sobriety to the late pub nights

And they all told me to get the hell out

You brought the glass to my lips again

And drowned me in self-sustaining doubt


We can laugh about all the memories we hate

Including how this one has an expiration date

Looks like you want some help, damn, just ask

Don’t keep it in and blame other lies in the past


No no no, I didn’t mean to be thinking this loud

I gave you privacy when you told me to fuck off

I guess I’m done with fun, and I’m done, it’s true

But don’t worry honey, at least it’s all about you.


I never wanted to be thinking this loud
I never asked about the when, why or how
I wanted privacy, routine and everything between
While they’re just finding me out
I never wanted to be thinking this loud…

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Emergency Call

I saw you move from across the room
I knew who you were
You act like you are afraid of who you are
I’m afraid for you…


I don’t want to be here

Constantly begging to be saved

By the hearts that don’t care

If my tongue is set on fire


Unsettled and reduced to hiding

Counting every line obscured

In the hopes that maybe this time,

I don’t have to hurt anymore


I don’t want to look inside

I don’t want to see myself again

And see nothing else but nothing

I don’t believe in anything else


I don’t want to ask stupidly again

And receive stares for an answer

It’s not like me to be fully aware

I’m better off lost, staying quiet


I don’t want to be here

Constantly saving to be begged

By the hearts that never cared

If my hands are set on fire


Unnerved and reduced to nooks

Creating every line unveiled

In the hopes that maybe this time,

It would hurt just a little more.


I can save you
If you ask me, just ask me to
There’s hope for you tonight
I can save you
If you ask me, just ask me to
I can save your life…

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How come no one heard her when she said—?

She doesn’t know she’s beautiful
‘Cause no one’s ever told her so
And the demons that she hides are all she knows
And maybe she can fall in love
With someone in her life that she could trust
And tell her she’s enough
(Will someone tell her she’s enough?)


How come no one

heard her when she

was screaming in her

bedroom at three in the

morning, scratching madly

at the pristine walls until

her fingernails broke and bled?


How come no one

heard her when she

was crying in a bathroom

stall, all the things they threw at

her leaving marks, and all

the ugly names they chanted at

her still ringing violently in her head?


How come no one

heard her when she

was slicing and hacking

away at her unhealing skin

so fucking audibly, and when

she slipped on that liquid

and fell with a thud, bruised and

bathed in puddles of dirty red?


How come no one

heard her when she

moaned as she rested fitfully

sleep paralysis taking full

control of every recourse

mouthing all the words

to the nightmares, those things

that she’s always left unsaid?


How come no one

heard her when she

vomited bile and empty air

kneeling faithlessly in front of the

porcelain god, sharp ribs poking

through her paper chest, even when

she ate nothing the whole day,

with herself she was still disgusted?


How come no one

heard her when she

was laughing, singing, and

talking by herself, and striking

up lengthy conversations with the

imaginary friends she made up

and the demons that she wed?


How come no one

heard her when she

asked relentlessly for help

begging and pleading, saying

that no doctor nor medicine

could ever cure her, and perhaps

an iota of support and care

for her was all she ever needed?


How come no one

heard her when she was already

being so earsplittingly loud

blind eyes and deaf ears

blaming nothing but the victim

“it was her fault” they say

“she should have said something”

but they all ignored her when

she actually piped up

keeping the regret to the very end—

and now she’s silent forever

and all her words went ahead…

tell me, how come no one

heard her until she was already dead?


Maybe I’m better off dead
If I was, would it finally be enough
To shut out all those voices in my head?
Maybe I’m better off dead, better off dead!
Did you hear a word, hear a word I said?
This is not where I belong
You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone…

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metal & skin (xxxiv.)

i’m speaking to the red slits

as if they were your own lips

of the words you’ll never hear

when you attempt to interfere

i’m speaking to the scarlet slits

’cause i know they’ll never reply

and i don’t have to listen to bullshit

that i know soon i’ll just fucking defy.

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How would I find you

If you’re rapidly sinking

In the depths of insincere oceans

And waiting to drown again?

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Song Outlines

I feel the walls are closing in
I feel the oxygen depleting
I gave you something I can’t get back…


Brainwashed with expectations

Far cry for help to stamp notions

Screaming feels like cacophonies

For God’s own personal melodies

Deluded with ornamented words

Burying knives in crashed worlds

Chromatic outlines left me in grey

Now I see why you fell in its fray.

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Amaurosis Fugax

Another place I find to escape the pain inside
You don’t know the chances, what if I should die?
A place inside my brain, another kind of pain
You don’t know the chances, I’m so blind!


there it goes again

the smile that never

means a damn thing

a laugh that holds a

flickering candle to

hopeless clamouring

cry for help embedded

at the patched bones

i call my fucking skin

the desire to be noticed

burns like the alimony

of another divorced sin

now i daresay apologies

because i will never have

a chance to fall and beget

the densities of bellicose

minds fracture skulls of

bereavement and regrets

as my tongue is relapsing

against scimitars again

don’t any of you even see?

i’m breaking and falling

like strands of deluded ice

spare me a fool’s fantasy

please look for me and peer

further and see the cryptic

cyanide, leave it unlocked

please look into my eyes and

sense my anguish before my

vision turns permanently black.


How deep can I go in the ground that I lay?
If I don’t find a way to see through the gray
That clouds my mind, this time I look to see
What’s between the lines!
I can’t see, I can’t see, I’m going blind…

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Hey, how are you, by the way?

Okay, no more lies this time.

Say you’re not okay.

Say that nothing is fine.

Say everything’s going wrong.

Say your depression is returning.

Say you’re falling apart.

Say you messed up yet again.

Say all the problems you need to relay.

Say people are screwing you over.

Say you keep relapsing again and again.

Say you’re sorry for being a complete mess.

Say you don’t care if you’re being desperate.

Say that life doesn’t want you anymore.

Say you’re fucking giving up.

Say that you actually want to kill yourself again.

Say that this attempt is for good this time.

Say please, please, please you need help.

S a y  i t . . .

Say something…anything…just goddamn say something…

Say anything but—

Yeah, I’m good. I’m great. Never been better.


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grave mistake

“My fancy grew charnel. I talked ‘of worms, of tombs, of epitaphs.’ I was lost in reveries of death, and the idea of premature burial held continual possession of my brain.” ~The Premature Burial; Edgar Allan Poe


buried alive;

screaming my

strained lungs

out, i’m desperately

banging on

the casket door

blood is beginning

to seep from my

nails onto the glass

and onto the

plush coffin floor

buried alive;

i’m twisting and

writhing until

every part of my


feels deathly sore

i don’t why i

even bothered

to try when i know

that help won’t come

and i’m secretly

enjoying all this horror.

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