Tag Archives: lies

Ex Nihilo

Oh, but don’t you see? We’re made to destroy

Shooting arrows onto the pockmarked ceiling

Until it loses its shaky grip, and begins falling

Finding another home in the chasm of our skin

.

Creating the chaos that even god won’t decimate

The first sin and final revelation, we will recreate

Holding back the maelstrom, a cataclysm presents

With every pain and agony, the loathing we resent

.

Chasing back the darkness, like starved animals we breathe

Savages tearing apart throats to shreds to get what we’ll need

Bleeding, bruised, medicine refused, suffering keeps us awake

Or we will never stay alive under the weight of all our mistakes

.

Running away from reality, breaking in nothing as we stalled

Tortured eyes seek wandering lies, and scratching at the walls

They make signs and burn our names in the wake of destruction

That we caused with our dying hands, genocide of the generation

.

Can I just have one more, one more…can I just have one more taste?

I won’t make it, won’t make it—I won’t make it through another day

Pleading and obliterating, until all that’s left is you and I alone to die

We’re made to destroy this decomposing world of devastation tonight.

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blood and whiskey

sin after sin

vice after vice

piling them all in

i’m done playing nice

underhanded pains

underage drinking

do i give a fuck

i’m slowly sinking?

being sober is too taxing

feeling is such a drag

overthinking is caustic

my heart is making me gag

bitter tastes good

and wrong feels right

let’s screw up my system

one by one tonight

one for flesh, mutilated

two for kidney, bathed in salt

three for liver, fried away

four for system, sleep default

five for the soul i thought

i could finally save then

but i revert into misery

again and again and again

where’s the harm

in a little indulgence

when all life’s given you

is bullshit and nonsense?

don’t know what i’m doing

i don’t want to even mind

all i care about is transgressions

and i’m falling behind

so numb i couldn’t even feel

the sound of my voice

and i laugh without smiling

a horrible fucking noise

trying to forget the mistakes

that i tallied in crimson

i’m cutting my pain in half

taking advice from king solomon

because innocence is fragile

and soon it will goddamn shatter

until your regretful stupidity

is all that even matters

sin after sin, vice after vice

it gets better they say, but fuck, it’s all lies

and i’m only trying to have some fun

in a hellhole of an existence that offers me none.

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Promises

Promises, promises

Are all they’ll ever be

I heard the same thing

A million times lately

.

Promises, promises

Said you were sincere

But guess I’m to blame

For thinking you’re here

.

Promises, promises

Of vows against blood

Your hand on the devil

When you swore to god

.

Promises, promises

Kept my end of the side

But cheaters will cheat

And the liars always lie

.

Promises, promises

Guess they don’t extend

Cutting ties, and it’s over

Rules were made to bend

.

Promises, promises

Made simply out of need

You’re a bastard for lying

And I was a fool to believe.

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The Game Played Right

I keep on lying. The silent pieces remain unapologetically in my lips, melting and melding together and apart, clashing like shades of blue and gold, until my smiles are mutated and my bated tongue is in shreds. Fear is an embrace I’ve learned to take upon myself, selling myself short to it, buying away the final remaining original thoughts I’ve slaved over in myriad sleepless nights until I’m a-la carte. Change is to blame for the causeless effect, and I’m asking for more from what can’t be taken away from me, cutting corners and targeting the contrition with a bolted gun, as if that would solve my problem. Would that open the deadlocked box of hope, containing those transient reminiscences of what used to be faith, keeping my wrists from giving itself up to bladed handcuffs and abrading ropes?

No, because it’s been open all this time. I’m merely pretending that it’s fully out of grasp, stuffing the sunshine in a pocket with a hole, then feigning remorseful surprise when I grasp the cloth and fail to feel its reassuring outline. I won’t get away, just as the moon can’t break away from its cruel mistress, no matter how hard it tries. Dependence requires sustenance, never mind if one’s getting hurt, never mind if one’s just wasting time and lightyears, never mind that there’s someone who sucks on the cigarette and there’s one who gets snuffed out in the ashes of its former companions, and both are slowly dying with each harmful, addicting, nicotine drag. Perhaps it’s better to move on, burn my house down with the lighter, and stab a flag on top of a desolate mountain, letting the frigid Arctic breeze pierce my lungs, reminding me that I’m dead inside, day by day, every single night.

Yes, the truth hurts worst when you’re lying on your back in a hollowly-carved bed, watching the tick of the sagging clock draw frowns on your dripping beige ceiling, the crude notches on the bedpost your only substitute for a calendar, not even the gathering dust on your windowsill keeping track of your blunt existence, but is that really such a bad plotline to read into? After all, I’m a mere instrument of conflict, and if I do not fulfill my function, I have no point, and dull instruments are of no use to anyone but the junkyard. So, what’s the point but pointlessness? What is there to release from arrogance, from selfishness, from egocentric human needs and desires, shallowness sucking away the will to speak in freedom, constantly starving for lust and lusting for starvation and dying from either loneliness or hunger in the end?

Give me that. Give me an answer that would morph my vulgar counterfeit laughter back into a purely genuine jubilance, give me a reply that would wash away the contracting fallacies in my conflicted mind and make my craving lecherous soul finally taste the decadent truth, give me a statement to swim in and sink under as I ponder deeply upon it and spend all my cashed-in stars to figure it out until I may finally repose in peace, give me an oratorical rhetoric that would drag me out of the hands of the angels in the ambulance and shock my heart into sinus rhythm, give me something, anything at all that would set this hellish perpetual carousel in a dead jolting halt and wouldn’t throw me off the cutthroat ride, give me—give me what I want. Yet, is what I want really what I need?

Never. Because in this reality, the parallel cruelty prevents any chance of a perfect alignment or even a destined intersection between any limits, and it’s all we can do to keep walking in the thin line and keep a painful positiveness, because backtracking to the negatives would devour us whole, render us irrational, and count us as impossible. Yet, despite knowing all of those and sharing such meaningless contrivances to the eyes that refuse to perceive and the ears that refuse to listen, I still want you to lie to me. Lie to me until your lips are mutated and your bated tongue is in shreds, lie, lie, lie, until the wrong turns right, until forward becomes backwards, until the truth is the ultimate lie, and I’ll gladly do the same to you. After all, we’re just doing what we need to do. We’re just doing all we can do.

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Crown the End

Self-destruct personality
Won’t discuss my responsibility
I am always walking on the final verge
I’m killing myself but I am not a murderer…

~*~

I’ve been okay

For far too long

It’s time for time

To carry along

And drag me down

In bitter ashes

That strangle me

The more pain passes

Because I’m never

Meant for feeling fine

All I can do is grit my teeth

And keep on lying

To convince myself

That murder’s just a word

That dreams are archaic

And life is just a joke

Can’t I have that?

The ability to laugh

Without the need of blades

To keep me on the track

To see you not in jealousy

But rather in charm

To promise my skin and bone

That I will do no harm

For the numb to suppress

Every inch of regret

I’m starving for hunger

But never at my very best

I forgive the wounds

But never forget to bleed

I chase away those I want

Lacerate what I need

Is there a way out

For the revolution to die

And I can truly say

That I’m oh-kay-ay-why

For I think I’m a peasant

Content in warm walls

But I’m just a king in his tower

Waiting for the fall.

~*~

Never gonna be the only thing that matters in my life
When everything around me has failed
Who knows what the future brings but
Eventually the truth will prevail
It’s moments like these when you really gotta think
About the broken dreams that you sell
Tick tock on your head it goes where it stops
Who knows, like a carousel…

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Damage Control

Doors slam, harsh words
We blame each other
Three days, shut out
I can’t take this breakdown…

~*~

The riot in my head

Crying, crying.

Waiting. One moment

Its tongue is jaded serpentine,

The next I’m wrapped

Within its crushing embrace

Struggling, struggling,

Weak. My tired feet are

Dancing on nail beds

To desire my rightful place,

Daring. How dare me—

How dare he to profane

She to recollect cicatrices

With the tip of an accusing finger

To me. Heartless ribcage, will

You leave ligatures all over my

Silenced lips once again?

Of course, that is what you

Do…that is what you will…

Twain capricorn souls and volunteering

Severed hands…is the fragrance of

The future solely mine; no, yours—

To dominate selfishly?

No. No? No!

Need I even repent in my

Inquiries, regretting it all too late?

Struggling, struggling. Weak

As of late. Acrid flesh peels off

To reveal viscid fruit within a

Decaying flower, sweet like the lying

Promises of the riot in my head,

Crying, crying. Waiting.

~*~

And it’s all, and it’s all
And it’s all in the back of my mind
All I want, all I want
All I want is to turn back time
Dare me darlin’, I don’t want to let go
And what we need is a little damage control…

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Stories For The Antique Shops

Let’s get carried away, we can’t go back to yesterday
Call out the names that you used to know
Singing along in broken stereo
Crossfire that you can’t ignore
I know I’m not around much anymore…

~*~

Here, what was gained was a premeditated loss

Point fingers for blame but never find the cause

Heartwarming situations turned out to be coaxed

Just another fool’s trick, just another foolish trope

.

Because diluted explanations don’t seem to matter

And it’s condemnation to inquire, it’s better to sue

Because the blatant assumptions are held hostage

By a shotgun until the pastor proclaims them true

.

With what’s sincerity I thought there was to abate

Yet it was another fraud you meant to indoctrinate

Was it all fake, then? Was it just a sorry Wonderland

You’d climb to the rabbit hole and let go of my hand?

.

Though for a moment, there was something truly going

By a hairline fracture, by a sinew of flesh barely hanging

But I suppose you got tired holding on to something archaic

Pardon me for being worn-down, never being timely classic.

~*~

One last time for old time’s sake
One more bend before we break
One more time as if we planned it
We just wanna do some damage
So long, so nice to know you…

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A Thousand Footsteps Away

Am I following too close?
Or am I right where I’m supposed to be?
Am I a million miles away?
Or am I so close I can almost reach?
Did I do it to myself?
Or did I really mean what I believe?

~*~

I’d leave a thousand times

And promise secrets I don’t intend to keep

Leave me alone in the valleys of ache

I will sing my drowning demons to sleep

.

I’d leave a thousand times

And swear to god I won’t pray anymore

Let me be to fester in my bloodstains

Like that mattered to you at all

.

I’d leave a thousand times

To retrace what was never there

When home was just a concept

And the white walls were once bare

.

I’d leave a thousand times

And speak about this infinite silence

When the doves come cooing back

I’m motionless in my presence

.

I’d leave a thousand times

And smile a smile that’s all teeth

This isn’t an ordinary cause for celebration

Let’s raise broken glasses at my defeat

.

I’d leave a thousand times

And say the lies I’ll hold to be true

Maybe this time the retreat will be short

And the release would be from me to you

.

I’d leave a thousand times

Just to come find myself again

If the raging undertows pull me under

Who knows what I’ll discover.

~*~

All I ever wanted was the blinding
Because all I ever saw was just a name
And all I ever wanted was to find it
It’s time, I finally know just what it means
To go off the rails, to go off the rails…

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Jealous Butterflies and Ochre Moth Wings

We’re just two jealous souls breaking envy against the tidal waves, bleeding out elaborate cesspools fervently, and leaving soundless mouths agape for the stained porcelain butterflies to enter, hoping that the fragile incipient creatures would exit our perfidious throats undaunted and provide our dilapidated larynx with an ameliorated song to sing. Yet we only manage to choke on their flimsy polychrome wings and cough them out unceremoniously before we suffocate, the meek and hapless butterflies bent in twisted angles, traces of leaden dust leaving residues of faithful solemnity in our tinted lips, tongues whispering the painful words that no sane mentality dares to hear, destroying the only scant chances for our treasonable prayers to receive heaven.

Then, after all the nascent vituperation that ensconces our quiet bones like an impaired skylight, where would we be? Plucking burnt tawny moth wings out of wilted candle wicks in the destitute hopes that they shall acquiesce the same way those quaint looking glass butterflies did, yet never realising that there is no fraudulence nor varied substitute for that abstract tessellation, that modicum of infinity, that metamorphosed dimension that those nebulous lepidopterons accumulate and exhale. Recovery cannot be replaced, and a replacement cannot be recovered. Amid the failing maiden glow and taffy-stretched daydreams, there is only maligned reverie by maimed lightweights, attempting to endow the subtler nuances of this life a vaguer and more coruscant definition.

Against the jade-eyed desires that we fought ever so vigilantly with inured devastation and bargained discrepancies, against the covetous recidivism and the elaborate secondhand lies that come tucked along within it like opening a painted russian nesting doll, against the prehensile avarice ascending above everything and drowning us in its remorseless cyclone, our jealous souls stand resolutely falling apart. There are no more iridescent enamel butterflies to count prismatic wishes on, no more ashen moth wings to cling onto fragments of faith for, no more candid humility and hackneyed selflessness and altruistic implications, only an imminent invidia and bilateral resentment. Reality ensues, and chaos along with it. Where will our lost nightmares dream now?

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Leave The Truth Alone

There’s nothing really left to say
And I don’t need you to explain
We don’t need those lines
So tired of living in the past
So if we’re gonna make it last
We should leave it all behind
I’d rather you lie than throw it all away…

~*~

I’ll beat you out when you talk your candid games

You said love, I say brainwashed, it’s just the same

Think you can handle the kilometres on my gauge

Step on the pedal honey, kill the switch, disengage

.

So just kick my shins, I’ll fucking jump off the ceiling

They think it’s blatant suicide, but it has no meaning

Cheers to poisons gurgling at the back of our throats

Who knew living out the rest would be my footnote?

.

The lowest type tries to burn the oceans with a match

And marionettes pretty girls, with no strings attached

But the doctors won’t hit me up with more medication

Guess I’m not meant for surgeries and wasted sedation

.

Tonight I met the sun and moon drinking at a 24/7 bar

They told me to fuck off, they don’t got any more stars

And the sky has turned serrated from the lacerated eyes

I’m done making vicious promises, through playing nice

.

Don’t you dare take the trite polygraph out of my tongue

That gin and tonic does our thing, have ten shots for fun

And while we’re at it, shooting blank rounds at the wind

Say this story’s a threadbare hoax, just another banal sin.

~*~

How deep do you wanna go?
Don’t you know that some things
Are better left alone?
They’re better left alone…

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