Tag Archives: help

Blind Ears To See, Deaf Eyes To Hear, Mute Mouth To Speak

True friends lie underneath
These witty words I don’t believe
I can’t believe a damn thing they say anymore
Lie! Liar, you’ll pay for your sins
Now! Liar, I know all the places you’ve been
Forgiveness—this taste all but poisons my mouth…

~*~

We all have arbitrary problems

Whether it’s petty or magnanimous

The cryptic remains we wish to seal up

And bury inside a metal sarcophagus

But it could be easily exhumed

Or never even entombed, after all

And inevitably, sooner or later

I shall play the role of the coroner

When I’m contorted in a painful position

It gets to me, red sprites of confusion

To inject dopamine, a blush of adrenaline

But instead I’m simply a machine

Automatic in my messages underhand

Pretending that I could understand

What’s easy is difficult, I go into overdrive

The train of thought which never arrives

I wish I could spill out waves of clarity

Instead of letting the cobwebs gather

In my drying, decomposing mouth

Conflicted about platitudes I muttered

If only I could then convince myself

To cease listening to blaring smoke alarms

Remove the arrow lodged in my trachea

And ask why, it will do me no harm

But instead I end up feeling incompetent

In total oblivion from such a situation

I’m not a companion, but I’m merely a bench

A rusted statue, a broken monkey wrench

Seminal symptoms that cripple and debilitate

Responses taken from a mind that is surrogate

I wish I could confront, interfere, absolve dysthymia

But my tongue is affected by parasaethesia.

~*~

I scream but nothing, nothing will come out, you’ve gone too far
So tell me how does it feel, how does it feel to be like you?
I think your mouth should be quiet ’cause it never tells the truth
So tell me, so tell me why, why does it have to be this way?

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skulls are thicker than water

but i don’t need

some obnoxious

excrescences to

be my so-called

“dearest family”

for strangers have

been benignant and

have done so much

more to rescue me.

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“cry for help”

thanks,

but i don’t

need your

bullshit

to be my

saving grace.

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shattered

you didn’t

have to be

there to pick

up the pieces

of this mess

you didn’t

have to cut

your unstained

fingers on the

lethal shards

you didn’t

have to be

the witness to

my unmitigated

self-wreckage

you didn’t

have to do

a damn thing,

you didn’t

really have to…

but fuck, you

did it anyways

i’m glad…i’m glad.

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metal & skin (xxiv.)

one cut

a weaker beginning, but you’re just starting

three cuts

that’s the charm, as searing pain is settling

five cuts

is that all you can take? is that all you can take?

seven cuts

how much, how much more can you make?

ten cuts

easy, over, and out, it’s like riding a bike now

fifteen cuts

it’s all a distant, tranquilising blur somehow

twenty cuts

you have reached your own personal record

twenty-two cuts

and went past it; dare you break the accord?

twenty-six cuts

it’s a complete mess of blood and medicine

thirty cuts

too numb to give a fuck, you ceased caring

thirty-three cuts

your arm’s as pale as your cotton blanket

thirty-eight cuts

maybe you’ve crossed the line, but screw it

forty cuts

so indulged, and you just can’t fucking stop

forty-four cuts

because you know it will never be enough

forty-nine cuts

for it’s not really the quantity that matters

fifty cuts

but just how fucking far you dare to go deeper.

fifty-one cuts and counting…

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interpose

if i’m

imposing

or being

malignant,

it’s because

i don’t want

you to remain

stagnant.

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beyond help

if there’s

anything i

learned

from you,

it’s that

some things

just can’t

be saved.

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dare to care, care to dare?

i know i’ll tell

them to please

just stay away

i know i’ll say

that i’m simply

fine and okay

but i’m a liar

even to myself

all these words

are so twisted

i’m a lone wolf

and eaten alive

buried under in

my own secrets

and sometimes i

just wish there’s

someone that can

see past the show

someone daring

enough to ask me

further, instead of

just letting it go.

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cliffhanger

is it bad that

i left the end

hanging by a

thread to see

who would be

pricked by the

needle, who’d

bleed for me?

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letters to s.d.: final fragment #8 {postscript}

Sent: June 28, 2017
Received: August 19, 2017

.

[REDACTED]c, p[REDACTED]re fucking for[REDACTED]le m[REDACTED]e.

.

i failed you.

i thought i could win

but i just let override me

i let it bite my skin

i let it numb and desensitise me

i can’t look you in the eye

as you tell me i’m at my best

but i look at your scars

and it feels like a stab in the chest

if you can, then i can too

but fuck, guess we’re both wrong

despite all my attempts

despite all your painless songs

save the time, as i’m falling

so goddamn stop me

but you can’t help anymore

it’s not like the way it used to be

this was…all for you

all for you alone, all this time

and aren’t i so selfless

to pay you with my crimes?

i remember that you always say

“darlin’, you’ll okay”

and i want so badly to believe

but i have a short breaking point

and this is all i can give

the choice is mine for the taking

what’s another funeral wake?

i’ve gone in far too deep in

and  i’m left with vanished stars

so i can only pick the best

and if i die, i can finally awaken

i’m a coward, i know

but you don’t have to be

struck with contrition for a

guileless naïve stranger

hell, i’m never strong enough

to overpower my own foolish self

that much, at least, is true

no, i’m just not fucking strong enough

f     o     r        y     o     u.

i’m so sorry, s.d.

.

but before i say goodbye permanently, i would like to confess that you’r[CONTENT MISSING]

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