Tag Archives: late post

bitter tastes

it was supposed

to be the final

magnum opus,

the swan song

of a perfect day

but i guess i’m

just not meant

for that much

happiness, and

maybe it’s just

better off that way.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Dear Medication

I got a year’s supply of capsules
I got a bottle full of friends
They’re always right around
To come show me the town
Delivered through a filtered lens…

~*~

My stomach all tied up in specular knots

As I hide behind abandoned parking lots

Bite down on the bittersweet medication

To unravel the noose and become human

.

Tribulations raring to return some control

Damaged sprockets needing factory recall

Offset chemicals slick as oil quietly leaking

Inside a system that requires dire repairing

.

A dose for breathing, one more for demons

Counterfeiting volition that I can’t summon

Blank and washed-out, it’s better not to feel

Losing doubts in a bottle, tasting acidic will

.

Cold cuts numbed and a pressed-down mind

Wonderland candy leaving me severely high

Living or existing in bouts of prognostication

A coronary slow motion, lost in convocations

.

A corrupting hold to sanity of a harmless little kill

Vices forgotten, bleeding tongue against chalk pill

Incriminate not the release of the sterile pharmacy

Rather, blame me for attempting to induce humanity.

~*~

Chemical angel
Comfort I crave
Don’t come around no more
I’m already saved…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

The Emptiness

I feel at home with shadows from ghosts of the living
I dance along to melodies as silent choirs sing
I’m sick of always giving when there’s nothing left to lose
That place we’re in is breaking, it’s trying to break me too…

~*~

Another day, another death.

I wake up, empty. Tired to the very bone, despite the fact that I slept for more than ten hours. The bed feels so cosy and comfortable, as rain serenades the windowsill and cold morning air nips at my feet, luring me back into a dull oblivion. As usual, I don’t want to live. I don’t want to get out of my bed and function mechanically, feeling nothing but nothing. But I have obligations. Responsibilities. Projects and procrastinated homework. So I get up sullenly and do what I can. Do what I should. Brace myself through the freezing shower. Dress up, scarf down breakfast, flag down a vehicle, go to school, socialise, do things, and try to make it through another day.

I started the day feeling shitty as usual, but halfway throughout it, things were looking up. I finished my crammed essays. I made some write-ups and started a story that I’ve been raring to write for ages. I got to catch up with my bands. I helped classmates out, actually recited, accomplished my quizzes and seatworks, actively participated in class. I finally got the thing I’ve been excited to receive the entire weekend. I ate great food and hung out and laughed with fine friends. For once, this was an honest to god day where I acted like a proficient human being, where I didn’t act up and was not my usual dysfunctional self. I did everything right.

So why does everything feel so fucking wrong?

I ended the day running halfway to my house, after having a complete breakdown in the middle of the public city and making people have to put up with the wreck that I am, and unnecessarily infecting them with whatever sad fucking irrational bullshit I was going through. I ended up nearly getting ran over by a bus, nearly missing my bus stop, fucking crying on a goddamn bus as guilt and goddamn pain internally ran me over. I ended up lusting for my vices for the millionth time, for a razor and a pill to infest my system, dying to relapse, living to die. I ended up empty, tired, and unfulfilled, the same way I wake up everyday, and the same way I am as I go to sleep.

I thought all this was supposed to make you feel stronger and make you desire for a greater life, not feeling vulnerable and washed out by the sun, sitting in your dark bedroom, anxious and wallowing, curled up in your own contrition and regretting everything, heaving emptily as everything drains the energy out of your existence. In the end, everything, all of it, writing, reading, songs, bands, fandoms, obsessions, friends, love, emotions, momentary bouts of faux happiness and vigilant but futile hope, it’s just mere distractions in the end. All just stupid petty little distractions to make it seem like there’s actually a chance to change. A chance for something better. A fighting chance for me.

But when all those distractions falter and fade away, I’m always left feeling ten, twenty, fifty times more miserable and pathetic than before; flooding at the gaps in my memory, making the permanent patches in my skin ache, intensifying the taste of the fucking bitter sick on my tongue. And I’m sorry. I want to be optimistic. I want to accept those butterfly pastel mantras and keep the faith. I want to keep on keeping on. I want to fight back and achieve something for myself. I want to make people proud, and make those who were thought I’d never be alter their perception. I want to see the glass-half full, not shatter it because I’m disgusted of my own reflection. I want to change. I want to believe.

I never wanted this. But somehow I can’t do jack shit about it. The only change I can see in myself now is that I’ve become more shameless, more degraded, and more screwed up than before. Anxiety, harder-hitting depression, cutting, drugs, invalid pain, panic attacks, mental breakdowns, bad decisions, I am a picture-perfect smorgasbord of everything that should never be put together. And now I don’t even bother hiding it anymore. I’ve given up trying to counter it. I’ve given up. I’ll always be cynical, and I’m screwed in the head and all fucked-up. Life feels like a constantly looming death sentence, and I want to be my own executioner. Nothing changes. Everything stays the same.

And if things went the way they were supposed to be, and I acted properly, did things right, played by the rules for once, and lived a normal, happy, fulfilling day, and the ultimate end of it all is feeling exactly the same as when I do the exact opposite, feeling that same crappy screw-all depression running through my failing system and ruining everything for me, then fuck it, what’s the point of even trying?

Why should I bother looking for something that isn’t even there?

~*~

I built these walls to keep the outside world from me
And I’ll fight to stay in the hell of my own mind
It’s safer on the inside, underneath where
You can’t ever get to me…

Leave a comment

Filed under Prose

Relapse, Recover

Who am I to think I’m one with this
To devise a life and run with it
Well, I’m running away
Then hear my ties to burden
And this is where I’m from
So when my body fails me
And all my beliefs, taking flight
This is how you’ll remember me…

~*~

These cicatrices are verboten, swear to hell that you will keep them

Crashing the pnuematic mistakes I fall away in again and yet again

Clinical neuropathy and an ugly intruder that never seems to yield

Scavenging my liquor breath and leaving my collapsed lungs killed

.

Drink in the chasms of ocean trust and lose a gold fountain of youth

Impervious to the suffering I averted, prismatic saved stars uncouth

If these knives are a circus show, my veins are the devil’s fairground

I never thought I even had it in my dragged carcass to still be around

.

As you spoke in tongues of sequined runes and automatic hieroglyphs

Of laconic hope, disembodied willow phantoms trailing from your lips

The acolytes ambush in resistant strain and infested in forlorn fervour

You won’t dare let this algae drown, alleged not to be a mere spectator

.

So bury the scars under fading promises and writ oaths in ink-noir blood

Privacy’s always my abraded fallacy, occluded to playing games with God

I swallowed the dynamite and lit a cigarette, let the ashes dance delirious

You altered the fuse inside my burning abdomen, knowing it was insidious

.

I never hoped for a full recovery, but I’m hitching a ride at the next ambulance

If the ritalin ceases to perplex my vertiginous peripheral, I will find my chance

I’m starving for friends and absent sense, the ones I’d die in a lost heartbeat for

And if I ever finish tallying all my infinite debts, I’ll let you know the final score.

~*~

Build me a foundation, not one of perfection
But one of structure and word
My eyes are upright, in constant search
Perfection, a shout unconquerable
Aren’t we all human! Aren’t we all human?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

breaking down

blood and rain

in blocked bathroom stalls

tears and water

a nervous angel’s last calls

blades and beds

numbed-down in narcotics

raw and regrets

jaded of existing semantics

lost and lusting

for tempted taste of demise

scarred and sorry

all these promises were lies.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

parched for time

the hours

are slowing

insufferably

clocks melt

and shiver

quite palpably

the minutes

chew seconds

and spit them out

i’m still waiting

and failing; patience

dries my mouth.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

shallow

sure, just keep

on digging 

my own

fucking grave

after all,

just how any

more lower

can i even

fucking get?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

unempathology

waiting sullenly

for nothing

amusing with

pathological lies

thoughts of

arson and murder

a thousand ways

to fucking die

waiting worn-out

contemplating

the demise of both

opposed parties

to who gets killed first

it won’t be a mere

act of cruel vengeance

but an act of mercy.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

When the Rebel Fucks the Anarchy

My alligator blood is starting to show
I know that you know that, I know that you know
Can’t call a bluff with a dead man’s hands
Put a gun to my head and, paint the walls with my brains
Put a gun to my head and, paint the walls!

~*~

I want to set beautiful, dangerous, cataclysmic fires

And fuck the walls up with profanities and paint

I want to stab the living shit out of someone

To control, devastate, and cause trigger-happy taint

I want to do drugs, get hammered, and get busy

With sordid bedroom activities and a paid-for rancid honey

I want to get inked all over my ugly mess of a face

And pierce a thousand rusty needles at every blank place

I want to incite vengeance towards my sorry enemies

Start a fight and start a riot, bad enough to provoke armies

I want this screwed system to get fucked and change

To use lethal weapons freely, of guns and hand grenades

I want to just do whatever the fuck I want to do

Without getting screamed or bitched at, boo-fucking-hoo

I want to be myself, and to crush this cookie cutter mentality

To not give a damn if they think I’m just so bat-shit crazy

I want to be unrestrained, from society’s choking grasp released

To serve my unfair fate and for once, do myself some justice

I want to lose all my control just so I could take it back

For the humanity and the decency and the morality that I lack

I want to be self-destructive and be fueled by nothing but pure hate

And take some goddamn bastards down with me as I detonate

Life fucking hates me anyway, I just want to cause chaos and anarchy

What have I got to lose? I’m just fulfilling everyone’s easy stereotype of me.

~*~

Cut me up and wear my skin
Show me how to live
Tear me down, clean me up
Now spill my fucking guts
Just help me find a way!

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

noose

you can’t

be at

the end

of your

rope

if it was

not even

tied in

the first

place.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry