Tag Archives: kind

Worthless Words from a Worthless Wreck

You’re too kind to me, you know that?

I don’t deserve absolution, or warm comfort, or reassuring words, or a steady shoulder to lean on when I cry. I deserve atonement, a punch in the face, a cold scream to strengthen up, I need tough love and tougher hate, because I’m far too spineless for my own good and I shouldn’t be stagnantly melting and caving in to that unwieldy trait anyway.

Do you like hearing about my problems? I don’t honestly believe that. Even I’m so sick of listening to the same old shit that I speak over and over again. Whining about problems so trite and unreasonable, even the purest of angels will certainly hate me for it. Oh, I’m sad again. Big fucking deal, so are a million other people out there, but do you see them complaining? No, so I should just suck it up and shut up about it already.

But I can’t, and I don’t. And you unknowingly get caught up in the middle of this ugly mess.

Just like any other rational person out there, you must think I’m rather obnoxious. Petty. Disgustingly needy. I know that’s not your nature, but still, I understand that, though. On the contrary, I understand it more than anyone else ever will. I know I push everyone’s patience to their breaking limits. I hurt and I hurt, and I’ve hurt other people, and I’ve hurt you, and I’m not worth my time or space, and neither should I be yours.

I’m sorry, but the truth is the truth, no matter how much it makes all the repressing lies in my fucked-up brain seethe indignantly. I’m always so pathetically selfish, but I sincerely never wanted this for you. You’re a decent soul with the best intentions and better people to spend your life on. I’m a bad person. I’m a bad friend. I’m always going bad. So why, just why are you being so good to me?

You’re too kind to me, you know that?

That’s being too cruel to yourself.

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

a specific kind of hurt

hurtful twinges

filling up every

corner of my

expanding coroner’s

disease; debilitating,

destroying, until

what’s left of me

is nothing

.

hurtful twinges

crashing down every

space of my

suffocating mental

affliction; desperate,

decaying, until

what’s left of you

is nothing.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

i can do shameless too (and this one goes out to you)

As we wake up in your room
Your face is the first thing I see
The first time I’ve seen love
And the last I’ll ever need
You remind her that your future
Would be nothing without her…

~*~

a s h a m e d

of violent emotions

branded on the

underside of my

numb, petulant brain,

making dizzy patterns

and dainty waves

and tracing cicatrices

of infantile graves,

returning to plague

what i always confused

and refused to admit…

y e s  i  c a n  f e e l

as the argent feathers

on your hair are effulgent,

dwelling ebony shades

escaping the delight of

my aspired clairvoyance.

they spite me for being

no stranger to the beggar

c a l l e d  l o v e

for always greeting it

rather fastidiously and

tossing a merciful nickel

whenever i chance upon it

on a bustling boulevard,

instead of spitting and

sneering condescendingly

and holding back my

burning tongue to trip it.

am i cruel for being kind?

dear, you’re a halogen

h a l l u c i n a t i o n

and i am but a yonder

sabotaged daydream

and i shall keep on falling

victim to your musings,

like a burning ochre moth

to the sickly sweet fragrance

of the kerosene oil…

so, is that truly my solitary

t r a n s g r e s s i o n ?

for being able to accept

what i’ve always constantly

abhorred and denied,

only to discover in denouement

that i’m the only fool that’s

crashing unsteady bridges

and drowning in the process—?

i shall not be craven of

the grander bouts of unknown,

for i’ve my own armament

tucked and hidden away

in a four-chambered dungeon;

ready to slash and shear

at the abstract canvas which

they all mocked as an

i n s u l t i n g  a r t w o r k .

you are not incarcerated,

but i am yours perpetual to

black out to the moon

and i will return from my

stratosphere holiday carrying

a souvenir star, lifting

the light to you, so that we

will never have to be

a s h a m e d.

~*~

If you kiss me goodnight
I’ll know, everything is alright
Second chances won’t leave us alone
Won’t leave us alone
‘Cause there’s faith in love…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

The Best Kind Of Mess

Talk to me now while I’m sober
The way that you look
I know it’s almost over
The fighting has stopped
But I’m still so lost
Will you bring me in…

~*~

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend transform into a snivelling mess

Well go ahead—laugh! It’s a total riot when she confesses

That her failing life is fractured into tiny irreparable pieces

The smarmy sceptics jeer, the constructive critics excoriate

She’s an aperture starling, media darling everyone loves to hate

.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend falling apart into fragments very fast

Well go ahead—watch! It’s a riveting soap opera, if you must

When she gets caught up in the viscid webs of predatorial lust

This is her idiosyncratic truman show delusion, she’s so paranoid

She’s spinning circles in the rusty train tracks you laid and avoid

.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend holding on, hanging by a hairline thread

Well go ahead—contribute! Let your personal two cents be said

Tell her that she’s simply beautiful when she’s just left for dead

She’s spiralling into decadence deep and morbid madness divine

Each libel released a sharp paralysing injection in her numb spine

.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend turn into a news story, a penny paid scandal

Well go ahead—ignore! But follow her face on every tabloid rehearsal

She dégringolades further into abyssal chasms of odious withdrawals

She’s sunken, ragged, washed out, enervated, worn out, she’s all alone

Why the hell’s that spindly girl still breathing? She’s a walking skeleton!

.

It’s funny, isn’t it?

Seeing your best friend’s physique metamorphose into the best kind of mess

Well go ahead—feel sorry now! When it’s all too late to backtrack and reassess

A friend…why do you still even call her that? Pity, you’re so thoroughly shameless

Get her away from the cameras and glamour, away from your cruel bloodied hands

You’ve all throttled, bruised, strangled her noose, you killed her, don’t you understand?

She’s taken the toll now, she’s taken the fall somehow, the least you can do is bury her splintered bones

Let your best friend taste a sliver of peace once more as Death arrives to take her lacerated soul home.

~*~

I’m another lush
I’m another liar
How will I stop
When will I start learning…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

The Beast Below

A gargantuan soul, species the very last of its kind

A body of peach and golden intention in its mind

A lonely old heart, yet with a nature quite gentle

Despite our cruelty, carried still the burden it fell

Further deep down, where its love has sustained

The dreams we keep and the world we remained

We sleep sound, and breathe easy, and we thus grow

Live on, rest calm, supported by the benevolent beast below.

Leave a comment

Filed under Fandom Poetry, Poetry