Tag Archives: lifeless

Backdoor Unlocked

She got her head in the dirt
And her neck in my hands
She won’t live too long with a mind like that
I can’t hang every day, baby, I’ve got plans, oh woah
I won’t waste her time with a life like that…


There’s a smile in her eyes

And a laugh in her knife

That wouldn’t reach me

When it’s a quarter past four

“Will you get the door?”


But I don’t wanna open it up

Afraid that the sirens won’t stop

And they’ll find me high on oxy

Sleepin’ on a bed of money

They’re knocking, screaming more


But it’s all I can do to slur and speak

The colour of her name makes me so weak

I didn’t know how I got so obsessed

They told me they’ll take care of the rest

And the doorbell rings a mocking score


I thought tonight was just a nightmare

And you gave me quite a damn scare

When you told me that your heart stopped

And you spit blood in your red cup

They won’t cease banging on my porch


But there’s a sweet smile in your eyes

And you hid behind your back a knife

When you said you couldn’t reach me

And it’s ten past five when you killed me

Hiding the weapon under my lifeless body

As you said “I’ll get the door for you, baby.”


Keep your hands to yourself
Don’t put ’em on someone else’s life
Stay right there, right there
Take advice from yourself
If the energy’s dead, baby, let things die
I don’t care, oh no…

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Sharp Edges

But these bruises don’t breathe

Unless you ameliorate them

With your own cold, lifeless hands


The daylight appears desolately bleak

Sucking out watercolour dawn and sunset

Waiting for you to speak about them


Jagged contusions that I tend to

Hiding constellations when you’re awake

Afraid that you’ll leave me for the light


Midnight is but a chemical rush

Your body is but an unfinished work of art

Morning is but an automatic languor


I’m useless anyway; so use my trophy eyes

And when you get tired of the view

You can blind me and throw away whatever’s left.

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Filed under Poetry

I am dead.

I still retain my physical form, well, yes indeed

And I still possess my body, my skin and bones, my seed

But I might as well be a cold corpse, with my heart getting rust

With my soul slowly wilting, my core turning to ashes and dust


Sallow skin, sunken and bloodshot eyes, a disregard for other human life

Cold blue lips, a blank stare, a soul built up on endless lies

A zombie, a living dead, a talking corpse, the walking undead

A man with no heart nor soul, but still remains his brain, his head


I live monochromatically, in black and white, not technicolor

A day goes by and all I see are gray sunsets and blurred fervors

Dark sunrises, muted colors, a dank and filthy human race

Black here, white there, the same old gray sneering face


Then why bother me? Why can’t you just see?

You’re not living, you’re locked up, you’re caged, why not set yourself free?

What is a world without chromaticity? Without any bits of color?

Why not just whip out your gun, your knife, your noose, your razor?


Is there even a point in living? I mean, why bother to live?

Why bother if your emotions, your feelings, your core, have already started to leave?

Why not, huh? Why not die permanently? To stop this torture easily?

To finish this endless parade, to end this stupid charade




Because…maybe, just maybe someday, someone can discover my lifeless body

Maybe, maybe, that certain someone will try their best to revive me

Reclaim my soul, color my sight, breathe life into me once again

Revive my still pulse, electrify my unbeating heart, remove that thrusted knife

…But, I guess that it will never be bound to happen

So for now I’ll just cross my fingers, keep waiting, and keep on living my cold lifeless life.

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