Tag Archives: honest

if i’m being honest

you make my heart leap in fathoms;

dazed with love and imperfections, i’m

utterly smitten by you

.

you’re my slip of the tongue,

my careless laugh out of nowhere,

the pursuit of scarlet lipstick and radical change;

you make me hope for impossibilities and singularity

.

wishing there’s a dream where i appear—do i

wake you up in butterfly palpitations

the same way you leave me unready, completely

unsteady in the dead of the

wandering night?

.

(it’s a fickle thought that keeps me going

despite all my misfortunes and the

arrogant reality of our transatlantic million miles away)

.

i’ve found another “one”

but i don’t want to count higher, this time.

.

my ribs ache for your missing

puzzle piece, the final fractal of fire that

will keep me warm against apophenic shadows and

keeps me breathing on for infinities…

.

you make my heart leap in fathoms;

dazed with love and reckless notions, i’m

utterly smitten by you.

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Let’s Talk About Not Talking About It

Well I’m sick of it, over it, however you want it said
I’m telling it straight ’cause it might be the only chance I get
Just shut up, just shut up, would you stop telling me who I am?
I’m sick of it, over it, however you want it said…

~*~

Some people find it really easy to write about themselves.

I respect them for that. For being able to express innermost thoughts and more private sentiments in articulate ways, and for having that certain imbued capability in their writings where other people could read their catharsis and be able to feel all their emotions, sympathise with their plights, and look at the world in another perspective, in their own personal perspective. Of course, even if they can’t exactly relate to whatever situation that person is caught up in, they could still nod their head understandingly, dole out some hopeful dime-a-dozen platitudes, and perhaps even offer some needed advice to them, just as normal human beings should.

Whenever I attempt to write about myself, my life, or my current feelings, I tend to drown it in cryptic nuances and fuck-all metaphors that are so incredibly twisted to the point where even I don’t find any sense in it anymore. That’s why I’m more adept with poetry than prose, and why I find music to be the most therapeutic outlet for myself, above anything else. And also why I hate the shit out of essays and formal writing so much. But in the rarest blue-moon times when I try to abandon that sort of familiar style and write something that’s concise and straight to the point, in simple words that are the closest to the truth, it always makes me so disgusted with myself because I always sound like I’m whining too much and making such a big deal out of nothing. And even then, I couldn’t help but add way too much labyrinthine sentences and complicated head-scratching quips to sugarcoat the naked ugliness of it all. Case in point, this very write-up itself. Sweet irony to further press the point.

I’ve always found it difficult to talk about myself. I don’t know exactly what what happened to me that made me turn out to be this way, but whenever I try to open up, a million desperate hands pull me back inside as a thousand alarm bells seem to scream and flash red lights inside my head, all of these, all at once, giving me a major dose of anxiety that takes a long while to wear off. I never know how to be completely honest without feeling awkwardly uncomfortable, and vice versa, it’s a great struggle for me when people start getting too real and personal with me. I tend to be a very secretive person, and I’m not a great support to come running to when you got problems and need to talk it out, because I’ll probably just intensify the headache that you already have and turn it into a full-blown migraine. Trust me, some of what-unsurprisingly-scant friends I have can testify for that fact in front of a court jury with both their hands on the bible.

(But on the plus side, being a secretive person also means that I’m basically Fort Knox when it comes to keeping the secrets of other people, so…redemption??)

I try my very best to be comforting and truthful when times call for it, but somehow, I could never completely shake off that vague feeling of uncertainty, that constant nagging voice at the very back of my mind that tells me that I’m doing something wrong, or tells me that I’m not doing enough, or tells me that I’m fucking overcompensating, or whatever stupid made-up issues it has with my attempt to act like a decent human being. I’ve always just found it easier to repress everything, every difficulty and emotion that’s going on in my overwhelmed mind, to simply keep it all to myself no matter how dire it is, rather than to bother anyone else with it, and I’ve always found it easier to keep people at a ten-foot pole’s length with acerbic witticism and sarcastic dismissals, because when they get too close, someone would always get hurt, and it always ends in a devastating fallout.

To put it shortly, I don’t know how to be empathetic. And I don’t know how to make people empathise with me. Up to now, I’ve always convinced myself that it was my biggest strength.

But perhaps…it just might be my greatest weakness.

~*~

I know I have issues
But I don’t need to hear it coming from you
It’s something that I’ll work through
The beating of my heart’s not stopping anytime soon
It’s not stopping anytime soon…

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Know Thyself

I’m calling you from the future
To let you know we made a mistake
And there’s a fog from the past
That’s giving me, giving me such a headache
And I’m back with a madness…

~*~

When I reevaluate myself

Where do I start to draw the line

Between the beginning and the change

Down my brain or with my spine?

.

When did my hands start shifting

To change pure gold into black rust

And lucidity became obstinate

Covering the mirrors with cold dust?

.

What place was my starting line

And when did I stumble and trip?

Did I get to the checkered finish

Or trampled by my opponents’ feet?

.

Why did my pen become cynical

And my heart run out of honest ink

How did my eyes fail to see the picture

When did my mind cease to think?

.

Have I truly changed for the better

Or did I just become a stranger shape

From fitting out of the cramped box

Because I wished for a little more space?

.

Did I drift away from my audience

As their applause started to sound the same

Was I meant for a moment in spotlights

Or was I meant to hide away my own name?

.

Were these lines on my face here before

Or the lines on my arms and thighs?

And the lines I once thought avant-garde

Are they now nothing but banal lies?

.

And why did my tongue get longer

But the accuracy in their wings clipped

Confusion may soar abound the sky

But my heavy body refuses to lift

.

Regrets and problems, I once could carry

Have broken my back and my will to be

The things I loved, reduced to wistful smiles

Memories once happy turned sorry

.

I wish I didn’t sulk and drain myself

Turn off the lights just to be haunted by ghosts

I fucking wish I didn’t have to be so insecure

To let emotions linger like a gracious host

.

Sometimes I think I really know myself

Until everyone says the complete opposite

And everything I do turns upsidedown

I become less uncertain of my purposeful visit

.

Just who was I? Or rather, just who am I now?

When I reassess, all I do is think and rethink again

It hurts my head, and I’ll just start to lose myself

Better to keep the present than to bury myself in past skins.

~*~

I got rage every day, on the inside
The only thing I do is sit around and kill time
I’m trying to blow out the pilot light
I’m trying to blow out the light
I’m just young enough to still believe, still believe
But young enough not to know what to believe in…

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Filed under Poetry

write and wrong

i’m a liar

and a faker

and i just can’t

say it straight

hide behind

this wall of words

and you can’t

read me so you

would hate

how quite vexing

i am, when i

think i speak so

honestly profound

and i preach

unholy gospels

like another

nameless sound

make a story

with a soft landing

like that would

help the blow

but all it does is

pretend i’m not

dying, that heaven’s

the place to go

i’m a liar

and a faker

i don’t know how

to be sincere

and i wish i could

change myself

but i blurred the

lines too much

to return into clear.

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Filed under Poetry

Let Me In

If we’re being honest you broke every little promise
That you made to me, I was too blind to see
I was so defenseless now I’m coming to my senses
After all these years, it’s finally crystal clear…

~*~

and i let you in

when you were crying

allowing you to drown me

with relentless tears

i’m an honest man

but even good souls lie

and i’m sorry to say

every determined action ends

with a shattered promise

we’re nothing but immortal strangers

now, waiting for an introduction

that will never come

was i wrong to omit my name

in a letter meant for you?

i’m blindly stumbling down

every oath i thought they’ve taken

for the sake of lesser blood

only to find out that

you’ve been smearing it on the

blackened walls all along

so climb up on my scars and

fucking cry on them

the sting of the salt tastes better

when i know it’s deliberate

with every insipid issue

comes a cold winter to return the tides

and blowing snow in my eyes

still, i refuse to blink them

knowing you will steal my view

in the end, what’s left is a dusty attic

with a collection of all the foolish memories

of a friend and his machine

both smiling mechanically until

you can’t tell them apart at all

and this door may remain to be open

but it’s locked for you until then

feel free to knock ‘til your knuckles bleed, but

i won’t ever let you in again.

~*~

I let you bury me alive for far too long
But I’m climbing back up to the surface back to where I belong
And now it’s clear that you’re the worst part of me
How did I ever let you claw your way in so deep?

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Blah Blah Blah

You can try but I will not obey, I will not obey
You’re not a God, I’m not your slave
And you can try but there’s no controlling me
I’ve had enough, the shit you preach
You talk too much, swallow your teeth…

~*~

Bite your tongue and clench your teeth

Hold your breath and chew your cheek

Shut your mouth and bleed out your lips

Taste the blood foaming, ain’t it sweet?

.

When the lies aren’t enough to hold you back

And the conversations form into a spiteful god

They’re all talk talk talk, but never say a word

The gossip so lurid, crashing down your worlds

.

And would they believe you if it was the truth?

They’ll just call you a preacher and a hypocrite

And would they believe you if you told no evil?

Litanies affixed to your names like it’s bullshit

.

‘Cause there’s no place for an honest man in hell

And there’s no place for sinners wishing you well

All that’s clean is replaced by regurgitation and bile

And people whispering rumours, stuck here a while

.

So just burn your tongue and swallow your teeth

Choke down your breath and rip off your cheeks

Shut your fucking mouth and bleed out your lips

To taste the gory lies foaming, oh, ain’t it so sweet?

~*~

With so much hate, you drown in shame
The angels cry but you won’t change
You built your world on fear and pain
The snakes will surely sing your name…

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Neurotoxicity

I’m just like a fly on the wall
Tear off my wings and I’ll take my last breath
And all my aspirations are dead
Because I’ve ripped them to shreds; now I fall…

~*~

this tiredness

melts into everything

and burns into your

mercurial core

until it turns into lead

and circulates into

your system;

weighing you down

paralysing you,

poisoning your veins

until you’re stupid,

sluggish,

stuporic,

lethargic and cold,

and every hue of

your senses

dulled down into

pencil graphite grey,

and it’s all you

can do to push before

the point breaks;

you run out of

words to say, you

run out of excuses to

give, you run out of

your willingness

to continue the story…

so you stop caring

and become

this lazy,

complacent,

apathetic,

hedonistic man

with a disregard for

his own sake

as well as others.

yes, you are working

hard, but only

to avoid interaction,

going outside,

listening to others,

possible conflicts,

social contact;

to avoid everything

that you once

enjoyed and loved,

and to keep

your intents behind

deprecating assurances

and passive acts.

you don’t know what went wrong.

you have everything

and everyone waiting for

you out there,

waiting for you to

hold on, keep up, go on

but the lead is

detaching your tongue,

replacing your blood,

constricting your diaphragm,

shriveling your organs

from decaying and necrosis,

clouding your neurons,

it’s already killing you inside

but no one ever notices

it’s a perfect slow suicide;

the masochistic cure.

and you’re too tired

to even give a shit anymore,

and you’re just tired

to do any of those things;

to stand up,

walk it off,

set to the future,

and change your ways—

it’s cliché, but hell,

you know that you’re

already fucked

and you’re just too tired

to fucking care.

~*~

Now I’m feeling, at the end of the rope
Now I’m falling, down the rabbit hole
Am I losing my mind? Or I just can’t let go?
I feel like, I feel like I’m losing control…

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Filed under Poetry

the taint

don’t let me be the martyr

who shall break your skin

to be the glimmering teeth

baptising you your first sin

.

don’t let me be responsible

staining the gabardine silk

sully not such chaste ivory

this is not sheer selfish will

.

i do give a damn about you

hell, don’t you fucking see?

and i’m just trying my best

so you don’t end up like me.

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Know Your Enemy

You led me on a trail of charlatan equivocations;

Guilefulness and gullibility at its very finest

But after I tripped and fell apart, pierced by your sharp prevarications

I’m going to have to boycott your appalling propaganda…honest.

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Filed under Poetry