Tag Archives: lie

The Girl On The Train

“I have lost control over everything, even the places in my head.” ~The Girl On The Train; Paula Hawkins

~*~

The start was the year

The broken was the fall

The night was the fear

The murder was the call

Caught into a secret lie

The witness exchanged

In the blink of her eyes

Her perception changed

On darkness and vomit

Stalked a nuclear family

A crime witnessed writ

Eyes unfocus unreliably

Screaming for their life

And blood hits the floor

Twist that dulled knife

Burn down all the doors

As a love goes screwing

The confessions infest

A person goes missing

Dug into a ruined mess

When a heart runs wild

And the pain sets again

The suburbia is defiled

Alcohol always listens

It screams like the train

And burns down tracks

Of their mistaken pain

And a gruesome attack

On shattered memory

The suspense gets lost

Divorces, drunk sorry

And all that it has cost

The blackouts are gory

Stale violence so grim

Can’t tell the full story

Only the ones on skin

But pieces will unlock

And truth can be found

Of a nice liar that knocks

A mistress under ground

The start were the lovers

The broken were the sins

The night was the horror

And the murder was within.

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metal & skin (xii.)

with every word

and foolish lies

that sink within

the blade swings

even closer to my

anticipating skin.

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splinters and bone chips

bones protruding

from a tongue that lies

about a condition

of the pain playing nice

splinters removing

from the eyes that soothe

under those glares

lies the harsh broken truth.

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letters to s.d.: fragment #3 {selfish}

why can’t i fucking keep [REDACTED] from [REDACTED] the world?

.

please save me

when i don’t wanna

be saved, ‘cause

i just can’t be saved

i’m too damn weak

i’m too fucking tired

i’m just wasted away

i’ve spent nights

screaming at the top

of the balcony

until my lungs beg me

to calm the hell down

you told me not to do it

but temptation crushed

me in its serpentine hold

and why do you care?!

i’m not worth your time

i’m not worth any of

your vocal paintings

in lacquer and grey

i know you’ll never

write songs for me

when i am hurting

or when i am lonely

or when i’m miserable

and hell, all three

effects simultaneously

and i know you

won’t stop singing

even when i’m gone

your serenades are never

mine to hide to myself

as a decadent secret

i’m just not, you’re just not.

but why?

why do you keep the

rusty razors from dancing

on my leather heart?

why do you make me

vain to feel every pain

when i loathe emotions

and it hurts even more?

why do you keep me

awake all night, like a

paranoiac insomniac, but keep

me alive all damn day?

why do you make me

believe you wholeheartedly

when you softly say

“darling, you’ll be okay”?

why do you make me

laugh as i start to cry

and cry as i start to laugh?

why? why? why?

why do you even try?

why do i even lie?

why is it always you?

why do you keep me from fucking dying?

and why don’t i fucking care?

.

why [REDACTED] listening [REDACTED] shit?

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“I’ll fill my pen with blood from the sink”

I wrote down this note to save my own fucking life

Shut the burning doors close, pull down the blinds

I’m a menace to the dripping rain from the window

These shots of tonic are almost as cold as my pillow

.

Blurred faces begin to morph into demented sharks

And the stars stuck between their teeth tear me apart

Veins strung taut on emerald lines and silver mercury

I’ll splash your black world with reddened memories

.

For it’s never astute, the drugs I snorted kill my brain

My converse shoes are gritting with sieves in a strain

I abandoned all my sense behind the rearview mirror

Along with my good luck charms and my paling pallor

.

Because shit’s never absolving, and nothing’s ever fair

From the fucks I failed to give to the way I do my hair

Atoning my punishment with cold fingers of whiskey

And sever both my hands if I’m feeling a little too tipsy

.

So darling, just close your plastic hypodermic eyes shut

And listen to my deep breathing with shallow skin cuts

But pray don’t look into mine, or you will never wake up

Let our redolent pain seep through like stains of teardrops

.

I wrote down this song just to say a beautiful fucked goodbye

If it was any worse than better, the readers would proclaim it a lie

So shut my twisted heart off, pull away my broken finger joints

I was never going through the veil, but without it what’s the point?

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Break-up, Fall-out, All-in

Fragile butterfly lips, it landed against mine

But then it shriveled up like a staling bad lie

Damaged and demented on a storm of time

Was it a sin to promise a rose for you, not I?

.

You showed me within blue kaleidoscope eyes

Woe is me with fractal illusions of tinted glass

Yet I replaced my fogged-up periscoped lenses

And saw trickery, how fractured it all truly was

.

I saw reason where you saw empty quotations

Wrongful purpose of irrational miscalculation

I pray to angels only the devils will understand

‘Cause you don’t seem to talk an innocent stand

.

I can’t be intoxicated by your diamond breath

Resentment of sharp knives and callous regret

I can’t join another party for the recently blind

I’ve got fun house mirrors pierced in my mind

.

Tumbling upsidedown in carousels of confusion

I can’t fool myself onto believing such delusions

I’m a funambulist tiptoeing delicately on a scale

I might make it if I tried, but if one side tips I fail

.

If there was another sorry, I lost it on the way home

As you dissolved into the fork and I ended up alone

But maybe this melancholy, it will be my new clarity

The road goes on as the light onwards beckons me

.

Prideful glass hearts will only fall hard and shatter

And the gossamer bridges we built shall barely last

My concern scalds me like sunlight on guilty water

Tell me, was it a sin to pick my future, not your past?

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Wicked Halo

I was used to rejection, but not from the sky

Angels ejected me out of the clouds for a lie

Both wings were fractured, my halo dimmed

But I can promise you that this wasn’t my sin

They call me fallen, I’ll call them in expletives

I saw paradise, and it wasn’t all that exclusive

All shades of purity, all hues of vestal virginity

And in other words, it’s the most perfect ennui

I was extinguished, just another star left to die

But now I’m careening down, set to destroy life

You will ask, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

But I was never there in the first place, so try again.

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The Friend and the Firmament

The sky, in faint wisps of cloudy whispers, softly told her to hope, hope so hard that it hurt her warm palpitating heart and her quaint labyrinthine mind and the inner reaches of her fragile whimsical soul; simply hope, and the pressure from the hurt shall transform the sooty coal into a glimmering diamond, a luminous jewel with lethal angles cut into an impossible perfection.

So she smiled back and followed her dearest friend’s advice, and she hoped, hoped so hard and intense that it almost shattered her into a million unidentifiable pieces, but she gritted her teeth and clenched her knuckles and she held on to that painful hope, using it as a concrete anchor, hoping and holding for dear life.

Now the cunning hurt had buried itself in the deepest, most calignious nook of her spirit and being, the very entity that once nearly broke her in the first place now ironically keeping her together, and the proud, sneering, cruel hurt never left, no matter how hard she tried to expel it from within her.

She yelled frustratedly at the rapidly-fading sky and called it a liar and a traitor and an enemy and a multitude of degrading names more colourful than the most spectacular sunset that her lost companion had ever painted, asking for answers, barbed amalgamation of hope and hurt piercing itself deeper with every uttered jinx.

Yet in the end, she can only collapse in tiredness and futility, pityingly pleading, with viscid inky tears running down her cheeks and staining her moon-white cotton dress, for her dearest friend to remove the spreading hurt, the unrequited hope that poisoned her body and crippled her system and tore her soul apart.

But the sky had already turned dark, and the stars were nowhere to be seen.

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A Song in Your Death Scene

Have you heard the news that you’re dead?
No one ever had much nice to say
I think they never liked you anyway
Oh, take me from the hospital bed
Wouldn’t it be grand to take a pistol by the hand
And wouldn’t it be great if we were dead!

~*~

Oh, just keep on dancing for me

Like blackened flies in a coronary

I would try to trade in all my tricks

But sobriety was never really my niche

The doctors called, they said you’re crazy

Can I strap you down in your gurney?

Shotgun shells taste as good as the pills

Both prescriptions are set for the kill

And we, and we, can end up dead

While laughing in our hospital beds

As the bandages start to stain with red

And we, and we, can both end up wed

.

I aimed for profound, that’s the latest trend

Dear, how was that fender that you bend?

No time to be Plato if my veins are drained

Where’s the sense when I’m getting maimed?

The doctors called, they said a maybe

But I ain’t counting my stars yet, baby

Beating hearts feel as good as a stab

But I guess that’s what it means to love

And we, and we, can end up dead

While crying into dehydration instead

No one had any hope left anyways

I never even had much cute things to say

.

The cuts are burning slowly deeper within

Didn’t I have what you call a proper system?

Cheap affairs cheering for kindred spirits

My face plastered on cartons of missing milk

The doctors called, they said to pack it up

Intermission’s over kid, it’s high time to stop

Intensive care feels like a vulture salvaged

Cool my organs well for their personal storage

And we, and we, can end up dead

Bayonet ourselves in the goddamn head

Time for the marionettes to take a final bow

We’ll make it through this hell somehow

.

As the last night starts to get younger

And the sun turns into a distant stranger

Make some way for the crash test dummies

Death has a deadline, oh fine, we’re in a hurry

The doctors called, they’re asking for money

I swear it wasn’t meant to turn this bloody

Coffin velvet doesn’t feel too uncomfortable

So lie back in ease, we have an eternity more

And we, and we, can end up dead

Let’s toast canticles of hemlock and lead

Shit, why even bother to wail and resist?

Hellfire ain’t bad, once you get used to it

.

Let’s make the most out of being deceased

When you’re emaciated, you can’t be pissed

So shut your mouth and don’t be so jet set

There’s a lot of demented fun to be had yet

The doctors lied, but who cares what they said?

Oh complications this and that, caught red handed

Failing feels like a stethoscope straight to the neck

I’d be complaining, but I’m too busy being a wreck

And we, and we, and we, darling we will end up being dead

I wanna leave young, guess that’s why hospitals are invented

Existing’s a joke anyways, nothing will matter anymore, I collected

Life’s so fun when we, when we, when we’re already all fucking dead!!

~*~

And in my honest observation
During this operation
Found a complication
In your heart, so long…

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Manie Di Grandezza

I aimed for simplicity

You chose grandiose delusions

Silk and velvet tapestry

Of a finest gasconade illusion

Whence I garner a cut

You have to bleed yourself dry

A drop’s never enough

Lest a laughingstock you defy

Your imperial desires

For a regal cinematic decorum

Every breath conspires

Such braggadocio, cockalorum

For there’s an audience

Of your loyal subjects watching

You can afford to be dense

For sakes to impress, captivating

Enthralling national idiots

With your claims of perspicacious

And to assure your own lot

Of self-manipulativeness edacious

Such pompous destitutions

Graces, bluster, and rodomontade

Gauche piquant ostentations

With a tatterdemalion promenade

Your stiff upper lip wavers

As parades of pomp and circumstance

Feels more presumptuous

Than your supercilious happenstance

Omnipotence and wealth

With such expansive superior qualities

Are not good for your health

So keep it to your arrogant psychosis

With severest egocentricity

And an overachiever’s self-applauses

Comes great responsibility

And medical attention for the clauses

Oh King Richard, vainglorious

Lend me your ears and heed my calls

Come hither from ivory tower

The greater you are, the harder you fall

You may be condescending

Reckon you’re an alpha, the orgulous omega

Fortunately, it’s a bad ending

For, I’m afraid, no one bows to megalomania.

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