Tag Archives: mentality

This Uselessness is Murder.

I try to walk away, how has it come to this?
I’ve said it once, I’ve said it twice, 
I’ve said it a thousand fucking times
That I’m okay, that I’m fine, that it’s all just in my mind
But this has got the best of me, and I can’t seem to sleep…

~*~

Idling away with nothing but my butane thoughts

To reinforce the growing rot in my kindling head

Godforsaken memories ungraciously worm their way

Back from repressed twinge and into my unmade bed

Longing for a grandiose escape from this noetic asylum

I call my own mentality, as I keep desperately clawing

At the thin bleached walls of my own bleeding skull

But never shattering it completely, and only left dying

And I honestly just can’t fucking stand this sedentary state

Eyes left reduced to another silent ticking timebomb

Working my dull teeth’s grind like it’s a paying day’s job

Doing everything I can to keep myself blisslessly numb

And the worst part is when the overthinking kicks in

Hitting me straight in my fractured chest again and again until

I couldn’t breathe anymore, and until I would just about do

Anything, anything at all, just to distract myself and not to feel

And when the mollifying rain stops and the vengeful heat returns

To exacerbate the heavily-settling hell of a migraine inside

It’s all I can do to groan inhumanely and suffocate myself on the pillow

Realising wretchedly that summer hasn’t even started—and I’ve already died.

~*~

Every second, every minute
Every hour, every day
It never ends, it never ends
Every second, every minute
Every hour, every day
It never ends, it never ends…

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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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Suicide is Imperative; Dying is Relative

Stop me before I go to waste
For every heart that’s born can easily be torn away
I can’t comply to this state of consciousness
That we call life, and though I stand here to perish
I will stand here ’till I die…

~*~

Suicide is such a selfish word, isn’t it?

An exquisite hum never to be whispered

And muttered under cautious hushed breaths

But don’t let your sweet little girl pull the trigger

And send her down along to her early death

It’s the last resort to someone who has nothing

Failure is relative, but then again so is dying

An easy way out, you don’t need to leave a note

Be an open ending with your last pages never wrote

Jealous hearts seek clarity in forms of twisted mentality

Bladed sobriety, I wish someone would find me

But no dares to ask, and no one dares to kindle and ignite

The bonfire that might burn down the entire midnight

The attempts I’ve hidden behind star-spangled band-aids

The promises thrown away like an extinguished hand grenade

Guilt, pain, contrition shaken up like a secret toxic potion

Three cheers and toast to us, and here’s to murderous emotions

For the lifelines we destroyed, the stars that will outlast

The existence that will never be, the sulphurous bite of the past

For giving up the ghost so hard the grim reaper gets chills

For the recovery that is bullshit misery, for all the numbing thrills

Don’t decode the snarled banter, dying’s really just entertaining

A childish amusement, they say it’s serious, but why am I laughing?

It’s so easy to throw yourself to the vultures instead of the sharks

There’s nothing left to be salvaged if you’re already torn apart

Suicide, it’s such a disgustingly beautiful word, isn’t it?

For the bruised minds that keep slipping under the lack of leverage

Three unlucky syllables can never sum up all the sussurous pleas

Never to do it, for our spines never to be avaricious nor weak

But sometimes, enough is just fucking enough, isn’t it?

Never mind the big picture of the future if the details are flawed

The decades I have left won’t compare to the halcyon thought

For the peaceful centuries of eternity that my corpse has left to rot

Life is difficult. I should just kill myselfshouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I?

~*~

Stop me from making more mistakes
Fallen friends have learned their lessons
Fate their teachers taught them all too late
Don’t teach me too late, just hide me from my fate…

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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!

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Cheap Cancer For Exclusive Humanity

Oh, give me a break you deluded, ill-informed, self-serving prick
If you really believe in the words that you preach
Get off your screens, and onto the streets
There will be no peaceful revolution! No war without blood!
You can say I’m just a fool, that stands for nothing!

~*~

It’s a mindless transaction

For the ones in creation

They think you’ll warm the cold

But everyone wants to change the world

It’s questionable

Everyone’s too cynical

And too miserable

And too in love with the concept

To change for respect

But don’t you love the drama?

The little girls filled with paranoia?

The boys injecting heroin

A systematic failure of clever machines

No one’s wide awake

We’re all sleepwalking on a tightrope

With bloodshot eyes shut

Pretending to believe in hope

But while we’ll all here

Where nothing’s transparent or clear

Let’s swallow reality’s bullshit

And make the most out of it

The sweet melodrama

The crippling asthenia

The jerks in your bed

All the cunts you wish dead

Let them sing

Let them sing

Let them sing…

You couldn’t do a goddamn thing!

.

We’re all too fucked to care

Busy with what to wear

If their makeup is on straight

Or if the bastards are staying up late

Corrupted bodies

Lying in wasteland sceneries

As drunk as blowflies

As sober as their endless lies

And the sun won’t stay

To witness their rapid decay

Hallelujah, baby

You won’t live to see another day!

It’s an arrogant escape

We’re selfishly murdering for our sake

But we succumb and give in

Just to drown in our sins

To the ways of the crooked

The drink of the dead

Surrender the blood on your hands

No one will understand

The happiness

That don’t exist

We’re all a mess

We’re fucking sick

We’re falling in sin

We’re falling in sin

We’re falling in sin…

You couldn’t do a goddamn thing!

.

So go the fuck to hell

I’ll be there soon in fifteen

Angels don’t live to tell the tale

Of the genocide scene

Humanity be damned to heaven

We all cheat and say it’s even

Nothing is fucking fair

Burn in the fires of disrepair

Shadows come to whisper

Your demise in a bruise and blister

I’m waiting for the finale

The asylum’s about to go crazy

It’s almost blandly pathetic

This modern-age love is synthetic

But this disease and chaotic

Sounds grotesquely symphonic

A perfectly flawed design

To steal what can never be mine

And if this is what eternity is

Then paradise must reek of shit and piss!

The cheap mentality

Of human rationality

We’re all so sedentary

You ain’t so special, honey

The walls are caving in

The walls are caving in

This world is caving in…

But fucking shut up and give in

Bitch, you couldn’t do a goddamn thing!

(Shit.)

~*~

United, we’ll fail, divided, we’ll fall, united, we’ll fail
We’re fucked, but you’re making it worse!
Middle fingers up, if you don’t give a fuck!
I’m sick to death of swallowing every single thing I’m fed
Middle fingers up, if you don’t give a fuck!
You think you’re changing anything?
Question everything!

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metal & skin (vii.)

the worst part

isn’t the fact that

i shower myself

in paintings of

incarnadine affinity

it’s the fact that

my fucked-up mind

wants to display

the grotesque artwork

so damn proudly.

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Filed under Poetry

write wrong

we’re lunatics

trying to make

sense out of a

world that does

not offer us any,

so the answer

is yes—of course

we writers are

absolutely crazy.

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Scattered Humanity and Paradoxical Mentality

And when the sun burns out
We’ll light the world
With tiny glowing screens
Tiny glowing screens…

~*~

I’ve too much work to spend and little wasted time

Hear my cold decline

I’ll try to make the entire universe big bang explode

To find my liquid gold

The modern world’s a waging war of constant vicissitude

Axis spinning backwards

Faux pas slack styles and mainstream media attitude

Your participation award

Too much space spent mulling on avarice and jealousy

But I want his candy!

Too little mass considered on more trivial matters, truly

Will that even affect me?

Another day I wasted gawping at the tiny silver screen

Blinding light, squinting me

And I’m spinning in circles, round and round between

My negative infinity

And there’s this broken-up false irrational equation

Dividing me by zero

And I’ll always come up with a shrug and a syntax error

Or end up a hated hero.

~*~

Are we useless? No excuses
We took the peace sign
Reduced it to deuces…

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