Tag Archives: human

It’s not like I want bad dreams, but anything that’s a breakaway from the pure hellish darkness I see every night would be quite nice for a change.

In an ocean of noise, I first heard your voice
Ringing like a bell as if I had a choice, oh well
Left in the morning while you were fast asleep
Into an ocean of violence, a world of empty streets…

~*~

I don’t sleep anymore.

I forgot what it feels like

To slow my heavy breaths,

To dream, and be paralysed,

And be afraid that I’ll never

Wake up from the nightmare.

.

I don’t even remember the

Goriest of dreams, even if I

Swore to myself that I would

But as soon as my bleary eyes

Open up beyond the reality, it’s

Like nothing ever happened at all.

.

I don’t know how it happened

But now all I do every night is

Stare up at the dripping ceiling

And think about everything and

Nothing, and imagine that I was

Levitating lucidly, and I’ll wonder

.

What it was like to breathe and to feel,

To resemble a human, and I look back

On the days when I still pretended, and

I did it very well, but now my skin is just

Beginning to peel and melt off like petals…

And then it’s morning, and I don’t wake up.

~*~

You’ve got your reasons
And me I’ve got mine
But all the reasons I gave
Were just lies to buy myself some time
I’m gonna work it out
‘Cause time won’t work it out…

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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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a persistence of forgotten memory

i am clothed

in nightmares

subliminal—

sympathy;

cruel, mocking

resilience inching

in the undertows

of a fervent

disguise

their smiles fall

into chipped sneers

as violet eyes

flash with

covetous envy

but the crimson lips

on my thighs do

nothing but gape

without teeth.

bleeding petals

slip away to

reveal the ugly

creature underneath,

melancholy human

weeping for their

own insolence

grieving what they

do not have, and

asking for ire faith

in blind places,

and yet again

i find myself dear

in the company

of the strangers

in my head,

and the demons

in my bed, clawing

with terror, writhing

with pleasure, altogether

tearing me apart.

i am clothed in

my own

nightmares–

and yet my soul:

fully bared and

torn open

apart for everyone,

exposed and

insulted and reviled…

it still feels rather

n a k e d .

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subconscious

stupid

brain

why do

you have

to be so

viciously

human?

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mental block. (10)

***

i am more of

what i wanted

but becoming

less of who i am

and if this was

what i needed

then why don’t

i feel human?

***

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How To Say “Sorry”

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count five stars blinking out on the palm of my hand

Whispering that this illusion’s grand, and I’m too infinitesimal to understand

How the world works and spins in its torque

How the skies are blue and why there’s rain in June

Why everyone lies and why people die

Why memories are memories, why angels don’t fly

Why chaos reigns in anarchy, and why you refused to say sorry

Even though I was bleeding out in front of you

And how the bruises are evidence for my allegations being true

But even without the vivid purple tattooed on my skin

I could still count every single sin

That you carved with a knife on the back of my heart

Saying you won’t end my life when you killed me with an art

Pressing down, feeling rife, tearing my veins apart

Will you still say this was simply for a restart?

For an iota of the darkest eyes you still call human

Face away from the tragedy and turn your soul to the sun

If those lips are crushed under the pressure of the truth

Fucking scream about everything, they won’t refuse if they knew

About the spinning planet, how they won’t understand it

About the blue skies and rainy day day lies

About death and regrets and how angels can fly

About memories being memories, and chaos made to create

And about how you refused to say sorry while you stood at hell’s gate

I’m at a loss for words, and everything escapes—

There’s ten million ways to say an apology

But I could only count one mouth moving soundlessly at the palm of my hands

Saying that my delusion’s grand, and I’m too foolish to understand

Against the stubbornness and the haze, that you were never one of the ways.

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Apathy & Density

I am an architect of difference, you are just a hole
Oh how I love to hear you beckon and stripped to the bone
But when I come around I come inside and just leave
Because if I had a heart I wouldn’t wear it on my fucking sleeve…

~*~

am i not allowed to feel

such vicious serendipity

should i stick to chasms

of my own propinquity?

.

why does it amuse you so

when i show distal symptoms

of my emotional capability

you consider it but an insanity

.

is it because this sickness

of the apathetic muse is carved

in your dense brainwaves

and my oracular soul i starved?

.

if your perception is blurred

i’ll spell out clearly the words

love, for me, is not uncharted

and within it i’m not departed

.

if you still refuse to acknowledge

such distinguished fact of the lies

alas, my stone heart cracks to you

am i just not human in your eyes?

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A Trainwreck of Thoughts

My heart is pounding fast, I’m out of gas, it never lasts

Serotonin, oxytocin, we’re built for sins and late for mass

Chemical, mechanical faces, daily races underwater

Looking for god in cabarets and never searching for answers

Am I your jester? Will I entertain her? Is the sense in making sense

For a semblance of humanity, insanity, neuropathy

Endowed in chronic migraines and under castigated lies?

Uncertainties play like a chess piece, checkmate, check please

Asking the waiter for the receipt, but he never comes

It’s sympathetic…pathetic, isn’t it?

The empathy that curls and coils and churns in my esophagus

Screaming until my lungs are bruised, traumatic pain, dramatic recluse

In the throes of a black rose, petals falling in a final calling

For the tears in tantrum storming, where are we now?

Somehow…it never changes, the change rattling ranges in our pockets

Never mean a thing, but there’s a hole in your pants

And your nickels are clattering in your mind; never mind

The respect, don’t expect, crestfallen and swollen eyes, do it thrice

Without fail, without avail, without much ado about the gale

They say love was just a tale written in thorns and photographs,

Polaroids and tongues so crass, washing away the blood on our hands

Burying the body but never saying sorry, you’ll never bury the past!

Here I stand. My heart is pounding fast, I’m out of spare tires and gas

Waiting for the moment to last, waiting for the end to finish the past

Will this sempiternity ever end? Will the medication finally bend?

Will this recluse find the chaos amid the calm, will I take on such a task?

My heart slows down, and I’m waiting silently yet patiently for you to ask,

But you never show your cards, and again…I relapse.

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I Collect Knives For A Living, What About You?

Did you think that this was all an excuse for
Hospitality, I know you think its all because of me
At first glance, I’ll breathe in
Leaving myself no room to move, at all
My mind is so flooded and I’m drunk with regret…

~*~

The tastes of stale regret and naphthalene

Another back turned on the open doorway

Fingers doused in iodine, alcohol, chlorine

Waiting for the pain to settle down, replay

.

Rusty crowbar flirting with the windowsill

These corroded wrists haven’t had their fill

Punctures arresting moments of a contrition

Skins embalmed, synthetic human condition

.

Swirling pastel watercolours and paint thinner

Interpreting artistic gashes, mixing all together

Cobalt strings, a neon glower of vermilion stars

Punishing priorities, daggers and guns on a war

.

Consuming traitor thiamine and betrayal’s booze

The reverse of a fraud, there’s nothing left to lose

A ventriloquist’s windpipe running out of oxygen

Nauseating disorientation, from a stagnant anacin

.

Lifelines tied to sycamore trees, carved ink indelible

But the oaths made by shedding blood can be soluble

Viscera in peril, executing a resentment due fortnight

I’m provoking hospital emergencies or flashing lights

.

Self-sabotage and mutual mutinies, fractured pinky promises

Wayward ethos revolting, a temper testament, trading curses

A compromised compulsion, haldol in hazardous momentum

Meaningless psychosis, mangled liar’s baptism in moratorium.

~*~

A fake, a fraud, forked tongue and I am nervous
At least I can say I made it out this time
I am just fine where you have left me
As for you be sure to cover up your mouth
I don’t know how to say this, my thoughts have just run out…

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huma[n]chines

we’re all

damaged

little gears

in a damaged

large system

all gnashing

and grinding

and crashing

and breaking

to keep this

dysfunctional

society working

properly.

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