Tag Archives: MCR

I May Be A Bastard, Baby, But You’re My Blasphemy

After all is said and done
Climb out from the pine box
Well I’m asking you
‘Cause she’s got nothing to say
The angels just cut out her tongue
Call her Black Mariah
Would I lie to you?
That girl’s not right in the brain!

~*~

I’m the desecrate devil

You’re a chemical angel

Damned in fake prayers

But I swear I mean well

Cold tax, burn chlorine

Drowns me in gasoline

Drag knives on my back

And hit me like a truck

My sophisticated alibis

Have no place in a world

Where each lie’s sweeter

And a lie’s in every word

So let’s play a long game

Let the apocrypha begin

We’re both fuck-insane

So you’re not apt to win

Hot shot, scream queen

Drama love, got it mean

Wasted hearts, tough kid

Shit, you’re just so stupid

But of course I’m the fool

For I injected innate rules

Getting high on their rush

System rejected, it passed

This is one ethereal dance

And I have a sprained foot

Lead me across the chance

Against the pain and truth

Hold me, crush me tighter

Baby doll’s too loatheful

Strangle or suffocate her

She won’t swallow anger

Did I lose the apocalypse?

My, what a big revelation

Douse my wings in blood

Lock me in an institution

Trigger cold, feels so safe

Please shoot, please rape

My mind with gun metal

Splatter red on the walls

Then if death do us part

Scream for my old heart

Stab halos on the ceiling

I know you’ll miss feeling

So find me and fuck it all

I didn’t make the last call

Pour me all, have a drink

Don’t stop now, just think

I’m just a desperate devil

You’re my poisoned angel

Don’t say this is all wrong

It was their plan all along

If we’re caught, act at best

We’re innocent, it is a test

If not, confess to perdition

Realise your transgression

Cathedral bells are ringing

Moment of hypocrite litany

The bloodred sky’s opening

The almighty laughs misery

So I’ll do a round of rosary

Excuse me for my old gaffe

Cleaned it with the upstairs

Guess what? He doesn’t care

So why should you? This life’s no winner

Not everyone’s either a cross or a sinner

And good or bad ain’t a two-sided nickel

Oh for heaven’s sake, we all burn in hell

I’m just a roman soldier, don’t die for me

I know I’m the nails that pinned your flesh

But you carried me all the way to Calvary

God damn it, you should have guessed.

~*~

Mass convulsions
Strike the choir
By the grace of God
Gun it while I’m holding on…

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Angels Don’t Exist in Fairy Tales

Hear the sound
The angels come screaming
Down your voice
I hear you’ve been bleeding
Make your choice
They say you’ve been pleading
Someone save us!

~*~

I don’t care about the midnight angels

The static voices ring in my head every night

Another apology simply went to hell

Lithe like a burning sapphire-encrusted kite

.

I lost my way behind old rusted doors

I’m dancing on nails scattered all over the floor

Tradition keeps the pages from yellowing

But the impulsive tongues kept on poisoning

.

So black out, resay it, and fucking fall

Gut and glory and guns and games, damn it all

Kill the pendulum swinging in your deadly heart

Sweet like confectionary, yet as hard as tart

.

Shallow pockets drop tarnished spare change

For obedient me to follow the witch’s trail

Bullets I ate like stale bread crumbs mage

Shove me under the oven, punishment to entail

.

Bury me in black and blue gruesome

The kingdom is damned for princesses long gone

I’m already dead, the villains have won

But this story never ends, the twist never comes

.

So stay away from my concentration

Keep your clenched fists away from the violence

Steer clear of my bones’ dissolution

Childish fracture garnered from decadence

.

There’s no one to save you from screaming

Another gingerbread wall collapses off

Again we’ll bleed in fairy lights twinkling

What’s this tall fable you’ve been speaking of?

.

So don’t defy my sorry, we’ll stake our clouds long

Flurry of destructive wings writing down halo songs

Now I don’t give a damn about the daylight angels

My soul’s running thin on faith, and heaven’s just cruel.

~*~

Heaven help us now
Come crashing down
We’ll hear the sound
As you’re falling down…

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Mama, didn’t mean to make you cry

Mama, we’re all gonna die
Stop asking me questions
I’d hate to see you cry!
Mama, we’re all gonna die…

~*~

Mama,

The baby boy that you cared for just didn’t want to be your son

He wanted his dad to look up to, he wanted to be a better man

He tied his shoes the way you taught him, lace over under one

He packed his bags to chase the sky, and away your baby boy ran

.

Mama,

The baby girl that you loved just didn’t want any of your compassion

She wasted her life and bled her thoughts with rusty gears and a knife

She tied her hair the way you taught her, plaited neat with a pink ribbon

Clicked her heels and stole some wheels, now your baby girl’s a wife

.

Mama,

The little child that you raised just simply didn’t want to let you down

For you worked your backbones broken and you sold your golden crown

You just wanted a better future for us, and to live to see our tomorrow

Oh mama, how would you have known that it would all end in sorrow?

.

Mama,

I don’t know how you always have stark hope, forever keeping our strayed faith

Pray some more, sweat every pore, and cross your fingers hard until it breaks

But mama, you never asked anyone anything, no, you never begged Him why

I’m sorry mama, I promise we will be okay someday, so don’t cry, please don’t cry

~*~

And if you would call me a sweetheart
I’d maybe then sing you a song
But the shit that I’ve done with this fuck of a gun
You would cry out your eyes all night long!

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Fifty Ways to Die; A Million Ways To Live

I’ll meet you down at the metro station
‘Cause this motherfucker’s got my motivation
Now I’m gonna show you how much I love you
Oh, my magazine is full of ugly things
Don’t need this system, we can kill them if we try
Shoot up everything we see and we’ll find it
On the wall, I hope you die…

~*~

Come on, come on, and take a round at the gun

You can lie to me baby, and say you’re having fun

Come on, come now, steal the burnt Florida lights

If the gas mask doesn’t kill you, then we can start a fight

.

Heartbreaks and drama blaring on the television again

Spread on the media hysteria like chunky blended sin

Synthetic reality production, I’ve never felt more human

The strip clubs, the genocide, a hundred percent and one

.

Juvenile halls festering in the garbage disposal fee

Won’t you pay for my bail, dad? I’d screw you for free

Gagged bullets, and you only got one shot to speak

And the secret is in the bullhorn, that’s the magic trick

.

Progress and fame, I’ve got the lubricants to a landslide win

That perky girl in the centrefold’s a jerk, if you know what I mean

Faith is unavailable in your local hospital vacancy traffic

Billie killed the fucking DJ in the party, so we’ll learn to dance without music

.

Turn the dial on the violence, the TV guide’s uncensored

They show carnal sex onscreen but everyone’s still bored

We’re big boys with small toys in a chest box world here

Exterminate this systematic failure, let the price we pay as fear

.

So come on, come on, show your hand up and play emotions

I’ll encourage your pain and your complete cooperation

So come on, come now, break down the Berlin barrier wall

Detonate like terrorist bombs only if you’ve got the balls

.

Laser beams crisscross a Fortune 500 bastard’s safe locks

Get your latest sycophantic update from Mr. Richbucks

This is the government getaway, and it’s starting to get hot

But don’t take off your clothes yet, you gotta show them what you got

.

Contrite as angel’s ass, a bitch holiest burning in hell

If you need your fix, I’ve got the injection tying off and the spell

Thick as political skulls and thick as blood on the water

Machine guns at the ready, three two one, here comes the slaughter

.

Automatic weapons cocked, antimatter and cigarette packs

Motorcycles and crash test dummies ready for the hack

Mall security ain’t got nothing on the stashed away dope

And we’ve got guts—literally, and the blessing of the pope

.

Recite every reason why you simply don’t give a single damn

Radiation won’t kill us idiots, but loss of common sense can

Left wing, right tail, let the tears dry up the skyscraper and the sun

We’ll murder the sky for ourselves, don’t think, just jump and run!

.

So come on, come on, stick your middle fingers high and proud and tall

That is your personal public apology for making anarchy ideology fall

So come on, come now, where the hell’s your brain in all this bullshit?

Information overload imminent, and we’ll explode as we all sing fuck it!

~*~

Manipulation just to form an alibi
You’re the prototype for me
And if heaven wants us they can…
I hate you, kill everybody!

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Sleep: The Awful Things That I’ve Seen

And through it all
How could you cry for me?
‘Cause I don’t feel bad about it
So shut your eyes
Kiss me goodbye
And sleep, just sleep…

~*~

4:30 AM. I was just drifting off to sleep, beginning to conjure coalescing dreams, hazy and not yet solidified. As my slumber deepened further, sliding into proper unconsciousness, the fantasy materialised more clearly.

I found myself standing in the middle of a school building, an ancient and decrepit one, along with several faceless people, all of which seemed vaguely familiar, yet none that I could decipher specifically. Up to that point, everything was fine. It was just another one of the dreams that I have on a regular nightly basis, fractured and almost nonsensical. I wasn’t worrying yet. Continuing the journey of my dream, I rode on an elevator with the aforementioned faceless company, the elevator’s metal doors and interior glimmering with cleanness, strangely sterile and out of place, a stark contrast as compared to the near-dessicated state of the ruined building. I pressed a button to go several floors up, and the elevator hummed lightly, the glinting silver doors closing with a reassuring ding.

And that was where the nightmare began.

After a few seconds of waiting in uncomfortable silence, the elevator finally stopped with another cheerful ding!, the lights flickering momentarily as the doors opened smoothly, and we all stepped out of it without so much as a glance or hesitation. We found ourselves in a room, a total mess and cluttered, practically flooded, with varying sorts of garbage, debris, detritus, and disused technology, and just as equally rundown as the one we had previously been to. Thus we began investigating, scouring the place for god knows what endgame.

As I clambered atop a pile of junked wicker furniture—already unravelling from its weave and was all but falling apart—to scout the location, someone suddenly realised that one person was missing from the group, and s/he called us out and gave attention to the fact. By some form of interlocked gregarious instinct, we all looked curiously towards the elevator, eyes drawn to the buzzing reflective doors, and, as if on cue, that prominent ding! sound cut through the thick slippery silence like a bread knife through butter. Breaths bated, we all waited in suffocating suspense.

It didn’t open. No movement from the inside. No indications of our absent companion can be seen. My faceless companions and I didn’t acknowledge each other, either. We were all simply frozen to the spot, and no one moved a muscle, not even as a soft music box tune began eerily playing from behind the closed doors, muffled as it seeped past the minute cracks between the doors. As it continued to play, sweet and lilting at first, I began to grow uncomfortably disturbed, for it seemed to be seeping past not only the elevator doors, but past the boundaries of dream and reality as well. It felt so real, so palpable, so tangible, that for one moment, my dream self actually broke past the fourth wall, becoming fully aware of its incorporeal state, and I pondered if I accidentally left my phone’s music player on before I fell asleep.

But then, out of nowhere, a high-pitched screeching sound went off and collided with the initial silence that was keeping the dream at bay, as the music box melody grew louder, more distorted, chillingly hair-raising. The stentorian tone came to a point where it became too unbearable for my thoughts, and I immediately jolted back to reality, hoping to effectively get rid of the discordant noise.

Or, at least it seemed to be reality, at first. I can still see what I would’ve seen if I was awake; the red and grey stroller that my older sister left on the place, immobile and parked carelessly in front of me, my phone clutched on one limp hand, its screen faintly glowing and still opened on an abandoned Aldiko eBook that I was listlessly rereading before I fell asleep, and the sheer darkness of the quiet room only being perturbed by the light on the dining room, always left open at such hours of the day. I was awake, and everything was all normal…

Except the damned music box sound was still playing in my ears, and I can’t move.

From that moment forth, I knew I wasn’t awake yet, nor was I dreaming still. I was trapped in limbo, floating between a hellish combination of unconsciousness and consciousness that I can’t break out of. I can’t go back to sleep, but I can’t wake up anymore. It was time for drastic action. Blood rushing wildly in my heart and heart hammering out of my ribcage so hard it might just break, I frantically tried moving an arm, a leg, any limb, any muscle, to no avail. I attempted to straighten out and change my semi-foetal position, but all I could feel cooperating was my left toe, wiggling frantically, willing the rest of my body into a contagious movement, and without much success. Not even my eyeballs can be goaded into looking side to side, fixated blankly past ahead, horrified gaze locked upon the stroller, forced to watch the unfolding events transpire, as my vision shifted and spun out of control.

I felt sickeningly dizzy. Gravity must be working against me. There seemed to be an invisible force that was moulded into my entire body, blanketing me entirely as it pressed against both internal and external flesh and held me down, and the only sound I can hear anymore was no longer the pleasant music box tune, but rather, some sort of strange caterwauling amalgamation of static and a rushing wind vortex and painful banshee wails that roared angrily whenever I attempted to move, its volume nearly deafening, nearly driving me into intense deliria. This unknown spectre was overpowering, sending fresh waves of prickles on my skin, shudders and chills down my spine, and contorting currents all over my body with every futile attempt of mine to make motions, telling me victoriously that I was held under its claws, pinned like a helpless mouse under a cat’s paw. I was its puppet, and it can make me motionless whenever it wishes to. I was under its total control.

For what seemed like hours to un/conscious me, this unwinnable game went on mercilessly. The invisible force grasped strong and willfully as it immobilised me, the raging static continued to come in cacophonic mocking screams, the dreadful fear ultimately pervaded and successfully overrode every part of my system. I couldn’t break away, I couldn’t find a release, I was defeated and thinking that I’d be trapped forever in this fucking state, and come next morning, my relatives will find me already turned to cold stone like Medusa’s poor victim, with a permanent expression of horror etched on my visage, a person literally frightened to death.

But then the spell broke down. I felt everything lighten up gradually, that shocking magnanimous force that has paralysed me and held me hostage for the last few minutes slowly dissipating, the angry static noise ebbing away into nothingness, and I finally began seeing everything in a less surrealistic, less blurrier, less disorienting sight. I opened my eyes—or if they have been opened all the time anyways, I am still highly uncertain—saw the lightless room, my resiliently-illuminated phone, the abandoned monochrome stroller, my hands clutching the mobile, normalcy, reality, and hopefully for good this time. I glanced down absently at my trembling bent legs and realised with ecstatic joy that I could already move, and I rocketed myself immediately into a stiffened position, almost letting out a vivacious cheer of triumph. Everything rewound back to its proper setting, and my wildly panicking heart began to calm itself, gradually lessening a beat every second until my pulse was at an acceptable pace once again.

For several minutes after that, I was motionless. I simply laid still, staring mistily at the dull yet reassuring glow of my phone, listening to the tired whirring of the restless electric fan. For the hellish dream may have passed, but I wasn’t completely relaxed that easily yet. Fear infested itself momentarily again, and I immediately jammed my eyes shut, very much afraid that if I moved or swept my vision over the place, I would see a horrifying countenance grinning with razor blades for teeth and glaring back at me with flaring jaundice-yellow eyes. I was still scared out of my wits, thinking that, perhaps, the nightmare was not over yet.

Sooner than later, the fickle irrationalities subsided into common sense. I knew I can’t keep up such an act forever, and if there were any bastards waiting to devour me whole, then goddammit I’ll face them now. I hesitantly opened one eye, and, seeing no otherworldly creature about to pounce on my viscera, only my luminescent phone’s clock blinking sullenly and reading 5:08 AM, I opened the other eye and sighed exorbitantly, the sound of my own voice washing over me and providing me clarity and sensibility. I felt ashamed and silly, yet at the same time thankful and relieved.

But not for too long, before horrifying thoughts struck me once again, epiphanies falling down on my mind so hard I saw stars. Deprived of sleep and going through such a traumatic experience in such a short amount of time, one can only think so clearly before hell sets its hounds loose upon their brains again. I gasped audibly. My blood froze abruptly. My pulse raced maddeningly again. A hard lump metastasised on the back of my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe. A final chill slithered down my spine, and rested there permanently.

I cannot sleep again. Whatever beast or demon or godforsaken creature used me and made me its plaything for tonight, I fear it will return again to finish its job. I cannot let that happen. Never again. Perhaps if I just make it past this night, then it will leave me alone. But I am tired. I am very tired. No, I’m okay. I’m fine. I’ll make it. I’m going to die. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts…

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Sleep: Letting Go Of Your Dreams

“There are these terrors, and it’s like, it feels like as if somebody is gripping my…are these terrors, and it’s like, it feels like as if somebody is gripping my throat…not like tremors, worse than tremors, there are these terrors…at night, there are…not like tremors, these are worse than tremors, there are these terrors, and it’s like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing…and like as if somebody was grip—”

~*~

Falling asleep…

A faint dream

In an elevator scene

An exploration

A decrepit room

And finally,

A music box song

That seeped

Onto reality…

Turning into

Static and wails;

Hell’s personal melody

Roaring madly

Past my ears

And the nightmare began.

Jolted into limbo

The familiar room

Materialising in front

Of my tired eyes,

But what the hell…?

I cannot sleep,

I cannot wake up,

And I can’t move...

I can’t move.

God help me,

I fucking cannot move—!

An invisible force

Pressing down on me,

Sent crawling chills

Down my skin

With every attempt

Of futile movement,

Dinning noise

Painfully screeching

Against my ears,

A beast has

Taken control of me

And I don’t know

What to do anymore.

Heartbeat panicking

And mind in a frenzy,

I tried to be calm,

To be stupidly rational

With instructions

That came out

Of a 911 operator’s

Mollifying mouth…

Okay, think this out!

You can do this.

Wiggle your toes.

A hallux, a minimus,

Just try it, okay?

There, good!

It’s working now…

Just try to move,

An arm, a leg,

A muscle, anything

At all, and then

Wait for it to spread

Across your body…

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

It doesn’t work.

I’m stuck.

I cannot break away

From the demon

That pins me

Within its claws

Rendering me

Immobile,

And screams

Triumphantly loud

In banshee roars

Deafening me

Of common sense.

I’m. Fucking. Trapped.

So what now?

Helpless as I’m

Paralysed, frozen

In a foetal position

Half conscious,

Half unconscious

Lying in my bed,

Unable to move

Or shout for help,

I give up

I’m reduced to

Waiting for it

To simply end;

Waiting for the

Monster to be sick

Of such games,

Waiting for reality

To take me back

And wake me up,

Waiting anxiously

For that final

Sweet release…

But will it even come?

~*~

“…Sometimes I see flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying and…it’s always…and I can’t…I can’t ever wake up.”

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Operating Room #66

A celebrated man amongst the gurneys
They can fix me proper with a bit of luck
The doctors and the nurses, they adore me so
Which is really quite alarming
‘Cause I’m such an awful fuck…

~*~

His ineptitude was not a gaffe to be forgiven easily. The masked surgeons and the bloodied nurses were merciless and beleaguering; they turned on the blinding light of the dysfunctional surgical lamp, its constantly flickering bulbs enough to induce a bad weather migraine and an epilepsy episode, and shone it onto their latest test subject’s (although the hospital employees never say it aloud, it’s simply an unspoken given, and thus they usually refer to them as a very sugarcoated ”patient”) visage, contorted into a subdued emptiness. Without any further ado about nothing, they began, rather unceremoniously, to proceed with the operation (or ”experimental treatment”, if one wished to continue to be politically correct, however pointless it may be at such a situation), lashing at the hollowly-staring patient with rusty scalpels, shoving non-disinfected blunt hypodermic needles that pricked his rubbery pockmarked skin, siphoning various fluids and effluvium off his rapidly shriveling body, lathering liberal amounts of unnamed substances that had varying reactions, more positive than negative, severing veins, limbs, organs, muscle, and epedermis, tapering lines of intravenous antibiotics, saline, venomous liquids, and various medicines and panacea that should never be ingested, and hacking away at his dismembered body, which already looked like a twisted asylum head case’s demented jigsaw puzzle to begin with.

All the while, a nameless tall silhouette leered over the discordant operation, supervising and watching taciturn by an elevated lightless corner, obscured rather fitfully by the pure vantablack shadows which seemed to conglomerate around it like clinging needy pets, overlooking everything in smug amusement like some form of a fallen god figure in his throne, not quite palpable, not quite corporeal. The harassed and scurrying employees were his to denounce, condemn, and order around, and though the hospital employees’ actions were that of someone who pretended that the ever-surveillant silhouette did not, in fact, exist, they still kept their distance safe and respectful. Since they were all also terribly frightened of the heavy comeuppance that may be penalised to them if they come off as impertinent and failed to give devotion to their superiors, yet they dared not risk anything else extravagant, their heads merely jerk into a twitchy bow, mayhap a sign of a subconscious nervous tic or that of involuntary worship, whenever they happen to face that specific elevated lightless corner.

Halfway through sewing both their guinea pig’s (the more they worked, the more unkindly they become, the final stage of derogatory term being bag of bones, left to the rubbish bins) lungs and left kidney together with used fishing strings (solely for experimental purposes only, the procedure did absolutely nothing for benefit nor treatment), the patient, who was originally lethargic and apathetic and remained so the entire time, did the strangest thing, out of the blue. It was so abrupt and sudden, a change in the circadian rhythm, a derailment of the train tracks, a break from the usual cycle, so much so that unsureness and hesitation immediately enveloped the room like a milky opalescent fog. The patient’s action was nothing like the professional surgeons nor constrained nurses, and not even the omniscient godlike silhouette, had ever seen before. Sensing that he had caught everyone’s attention, the patient, making motions for the first time since the start of the operation, blinked both swollen eyelids gingerly (one socket was missing an eyeball), and tilted its barely attached head slowly, in a pompously suspenseful manner, to show them a fuller glimpse what his disfigured face was doing.

The effect was instantaneous and devastating. It caused bloodshot eyes to widen momentarily, jostled volatile gasps of shock from the disturbed nurses, and made everyone react in some way or manner. Some could only stare in horror, frozen to the spot and absentmindedly muttering undecipherable incantations, others swayed slightly as if shot with tranquilliser, gripping their knuckles white against nearby solid surfaces to steady themselves, and one even backed up against the wall and slid downwards into a faint, collapsing on the grimy linoleum floor, next to where the patient’s missing eyeball apparently rolled onto. It was so appalling that it even made the usually-unperturbed tall silhouette flinch, as if touched by the most potent muriatic acid (which, as a matter of fact they did have, but in storage), and instantly it recoiled and drew away from the scene of the crime, a tortured sibilant hiss accidentally escaping through its grimy gritted teeth as it did so.

The unknown silhouette’s poisonous reaction was the final breaking point. For a singular moment, the place grew was mollified, growing uncomfortably quiet. Everyone was petrified in an almost tableaux position, nasty accusing looks and roving uneasy glares tossed around with bated breaths, as if taunting each other to act. The silhouette, appeasing of his sagacious error, merely stood guard and watched its subordinates to see how they would react, kicking aside a tendrilled shadow that wrapped itself affectionately around its leg. An eternity and an aeon passed. When no one twitched even a muscle, it seemed as if everyone was finally calmed into a gregarious rationality. But then, as the scene was only just beginning to thaw, the person who fainted also thawed with them. She stirred slightly, opened her eyes groggily to see a severed, mangled one gazing back at her, and opened her mouth to scream.

The fragile glass of silence shattered. The operating room was thrown into pandemonium in a split-second, cacophony of high-pitched shrieks amongst disgusting sounds of ripping fabric, perhaps of the soiled unreplaced bandages or the thin discoloured gurney itself, harried feet stampeding to the nearest emergency exit, sickening crunches of fractured fingers and broken bones as brogues and pennyloafers trampled carelessly on those who got caught in their own feet and tripped, quailing whimpers and quivering murmurs of those who were unlucky enough to be casualties and collateral damage (one of whom stepped on the continuously troublesome eyeball and slipped on it with an unpleasant squelch and a deadened thud), as the susurrus disembodied voice overpoweringly rose above it all, inhuman dissemination getting increasingly stentorian and piercing through eardrums, its sound like coalescing amalgam of tireless radio static, screeching microphone feedback, and unclipped fingernails dragged down a chalkboard, snarling at everyone to return to composure and finish the procedure.

But no one listened. No one obeyed. No one stopped to care. Not even the catatonic patient. He simply laid there, supine, bemused, watching the madness with his remaining glossed-over eye, his remaining members, positioned like a gruesome present, on a wicker basket dripping with glimmering scarlet blood, his mangled body still strapped with chafed leather belts to the bare freezing metal bedframe, not showing any acknowledgement of seeing the fiasco, not attempting to release himself from the constraints, not changing nor moving all the chaos. He just continued to smile.

~*~

I gave you blood, blood
Gallons of the stuff
I gave you all that you can drink
And it will never be enough
I gave you blood, blood, blood..
I’m the kind of human wreckage that you love!

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¡ M ! U ! S ! I ! C ¡

Sing it out, boy, you got to see what tomorrow brings
Sing it out, girl, you got to be what tomorrow means
For every time that they want to count you out
And use your voice every single time you open up your mouth…

~*~

These bladed songs are

Tearing at my soul’s skin

And clipping the sinews

Within my aching heart

Every riff and drumbeat

Every bassline and lyric

A dulled pair of scissors

That cuts ever so deeply

Leaving lacerations and

Unhealing angry wounds

Bleeding and twisting as

I’ll feel every pain and joy

.

Of each song and singer

Of music and musicians

And delicate instruments

Making infrangible tunes

When the bars intertwine

My veins and my nerves

The incision a glory scar

As I bleed notes instead

But the cuts ain’t poison

They are far from venom

It’s my personal panacea

The everlasting nostrum

.

It’s that adrenaline rush

That never subsides off

The hurt that keeps you

Craving for the remedies

The madness and frenzy

The need to dance along

Air guitar motion fingers

Hair fanned out as wings

And as I mouth the words

Leaping along to melody

In the minutes of passion

I have never felt so free…

.

Each lyrical verse being a

Chapter of the adventure

With seconds of sunlight

Or drowned in teary rain

Composition, creativity

Vocals, tone, scale, vary

Rhythm, keys, harmony

Melody, symphony, me

All components refined

Blending into balanced

Perfection and mastery

Birthing precious songs

.

This world’s way better

With a little more noise

So plug in tangled wires

Turn up those speakers

Up to million and seven

We will damn make sure

That we’re heard all the

Way from hell to heaven

Whenever chaos strikes

We’re all mute and dumb

There will always be one

Voice that bravely sings

.

Even if they say it’s harmful

They say it’s fucking wrong

Oh, it’s an evil satanic ritual!

Making you slit your wrists!

Well I say fuck those haters

And their hollow silent lives

The dirty hypocrites will cry

When they see me carry on

For what gives me full energy

And a will to fight headstrong

Are not critics and words, but

These damn awesome songs.

~*~

Sing it for the boys! Sing it for the girls!
Every time that you lose it, sing it for the world!
Sing it from the heart! Sing it ’til you’re nuts!
Sing it out for the ones that’ll hate your guts!
Sing it for the deaf! Sing it for the blind!
Sing about everyone that you left behind!
Sing it for the world! Sing it for the world!

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A Mutually Self-Destructive Alliance

We could be perfect one last night
And die like starcrossed lovers when we fight
And we could settle this affair
If you would shed your yellow
Take my hand and then we’ll solve
The mystery of laceration gravity
This riddle of revenge
Please understand that it has to be this way…

~*~

He’s a tough beast losing a war with his vainglorious demons

When he’s fucking around in the unused abandoned dormitory

His rage thirsts for agony, and his smile is a paranoid paradox

No number of free kisses will fully bury his graveyard misery

.

She’s a delicate Amazonian winning a battle for the demons

When she’s fucking around in the flat with infinite vacancies

Picking bones from her teeth, spitting gristle in snarled smile

No amount of free pleading will make her surrender so easily

.

They’re two faithed allies trading ten thousand filthy lies to save their skins

When they’re both fucking around in the empty carpark of a crumbling hotel

Smiles bared and taut, as information flows freely, trading vendetta and sins

If the belligerence goes down, they know at least they’ll both go straight to hell.

~*~

Stand! Up fucking tall
Don’t let them see your back and
Take! My fucking hand
And never be afraid again…

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Vanishing Point; All That’s Left Are Traces Of You

And without you is how I disappear
And live my life alone forever now
Can you hear me cry out to you
Words I thought I’d choke on
Figure out I’m really not so with
You anymore, I’m just a ghost
So I can’t hurt you anymore…

~This Is How I Disappear; My Chemical Romance

~*~

If you found me gone one day, with nothing but a whirlwind of scattered letters and notebooks and papers, with one parched fountain pen dying of dehydration in the middle, lying forgotten in my dislimned room like an ironic tableau, to indicate the figure, the mass, the emptied space which my once-corporeal missing body once occupied, what would you do?

Would you silently shut the door, lock the house, and leave, leave that damned place that swallowed me whole, and start afresh, burying all memories and preludes of mine, allowing it to be covered in dust and cobwebs along with the crumbling papers, in that lonely dark room in a restless abandoned house, doomed to become another cheap haunted tourist attraction—?

Or would you take a deep breath, gathering all your aplomb and composure in a single oxygen intake, preparing yourself for the worst yet still hoping for the best, grip the knob with sweaty quivering palms, open the door with a prominent creak, and step in cautiously, allowing the darkness of the shadows and the lingering ghosts of what once was to chill your bones and embrace your every being—?

And if you were to choose the latter, if you were to gather all the papers, crumpled, clean, torn-up, every scrap and bit scribbled upon in a fit of either ennui or frustration, and put them together, as if they were the puzzle pieces that will finally solve the complexities and mysteries of my shambled life, and you read them, word for word, letter for letter, line for line and rhyme for rhyme, the mindlessly scratched punctuation and intentionally scratched out words blurring into a singular monstrous emotion that discreetly ravaged and poisoned your child’s system internally, now reforming and threatening to tear at your soul’s throat, as you read the unorganised pastiche of all my regrets, passions, agonies, jubilances, those things that I wanted to say, those things I never said, and those things that I will never get to say, what would you do?

Would you tie those anthologies of pain and paradise altogether in a messy little bundle, and without so much as an apology nor prayer, simply toss them gracelessly into the raging hungry fireplace, letting each scrap of paper curl up like dying butterfly wings and be devoured by the rising flames, starving for memories to destroy, turning my thoughts into bitter ashes, no longer to be sifted and repaired, rather only left to the whim of the wind, to get caught in people’s eyes, leaving my life to be an open case, speculated and falsified upon, leaving the words of the dead to remain dead and only an unspoken echo, a pale blot in the fabric of time—?

Or would you tie those florilegiums of hurt and happiness altogether in a neat little bundle, and with utterances of faith and assurance, share them eloquently with the others wanting in hope, letting each page be turned with eager fingers like flourishing petals of blue forget-me-nots and be devoured by the willing masses, voracious for memories to engrave, turning my ponderings into a spectrum of colours, no longer to be ignored and rotting away in a locked grey vault, rather to be left in the whim of the breeze, to get caught in people’s hearts, leaving my life to be stipulated and validated upon, making the words of the dead come back to life and to gain a voice of their own, a universe itself in the tapestry of time—?

And if you opted for the second decision, and you succeeded, what would you do if you returned to my room one day, and found me, sitting casually on my bed, with an overflowing ink jar dripping murky tears on my desk and a flurry of blank sheets of paper like a hurricane of unconceived literature on the spotless carpet, taciturn as I write out brand new compositions with a faint yet genuine smile on my solid scarlet lips, content with my slowly unfading existence, colliding shades of carnation and pastel tints efflorescing on my pallid cheeks and everywhere else that the bleeding colours chances to touch, revived by your efforts, revived by the memory of my name fresh in everyone’s sentience, unaged and youthful, looking as if I never left, this place, this world, and a void in your mind, in the very first place?

Would you tell yourself that all this, was simply nothing but a tired delusional dream of yours, disintegrating into the aether as soon as you make contact with it—?

Or would you dare step in again, completing a full möbius strip of the vanishing cycle, into my bright phantasmic room, and touch my skin to see if the bubble pops…?

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