Tag Archives: mess

Pantomime

I put myself in someone else’s heart

And it didn’t beat, no, it didn’t beat at all

My soul’s uncomfortable from twisting

And turning, trying to fit in the desperate crawl

The insecurities taste as heavy as substances

Making my open veins cough up less blood

I just don’t believe in myself as much as I should

And doubts weigh me down when I’ve had

A step away from my eyes and into empty shoes

Which squeaked when I wore them, the laces loose

And the soles were worn down from these miles of walking

I may have gone the distance but I didn’t do the talking

I’m no longer genuine, just as diamonds are always fake

Covering up for my mortalities with graver mistakes

And pretending I wasn’t me, for once I don’t know

What the parts of my anatomy were, how everything goes

The self-hatred whispers things I don’t want to have thought

And my mama tells me I’ve always been what I’m not

Head a mess, anxiety regaled in fanfare intuition

They say life’s not fair without a taste of contradiction

But I’m just trying to regain what I once lost with my pen

Discover all the stories I missed making amends again

I put myself in someone else’s heart, and it didn’t beat at all

But mine only started to breathe when I let myself answer the call.

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Fill In The Blanks

Regrets infesting before the final choice is made

A look-back taken the wrong way, as resolution fades

Can’t catch a break when I’m running with fractured legs

So I sit in the sheer silence of my own fucking mess

I want to take back something that hasn’t even been done

Exchange clear rationality just for the sake of jumping the gun

When the count’s already over and the ticking clock has won

It leaves only myself wondering until I’m left with none.

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Of Feminine Odds And Endings

Spent ten days counting dandelions in a field

Like time was miserable and needed camera thrills

Painting a scene that wasn’t quite as wayward

As a night filled with stars in some cheap postcard

Distance is effervescent when I close my eyes

Lips pulled into an idyllic smile, trying to play nice

.

Waking up when the collapse is felt in earthquake faults

Visions stifled with thorazine, my art is charcoal cold

I’ll dance like it’s the apocalypse, I’ll sing loud like I mean it

Spin a tornado with the air I have left in my lungs sweet

I’m just a mess trapped in sunflower swirls and pastel dreams

Tinderbox between my teeth, aldehyde ignites my screams

.

I don’t mind that it’s mindless, I don’t make any sense

The windows show my only escape from pyrexia bleakness

I’ll cast a spell and make the golden in the sunshine die

Plucked violets intricately lacing, like delinquent butterflies

Traipse by coastlines ’til the shore is nowhere to be found

Staring at the hypnotic horizon until I cannot feel the ground

.

Heavy, heavy, heavy dahlias; transient mysteries I’ll never solve

The morning’s further past over, and the mourning’s getting old

I’m a melancholy melody, I’m a symptom of severing snowdrops

A feverish heart cured by faux rhinestones from a psychic’s shop

Contrary crazy, I only miss the rain when the weather’s at it’s best

Drown in myself, I’ll keep looking for an exit out of this baby’s breath.

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Worthless Words from a Worthless Wreck

You’re too kind to me, you know that?

I don’t deserve absolution, or warm comfort, or reassuring words, or a steady shoulder to lean on when I cry. I deserve atonement, a punch in the face, a cold scream to strengthen up, I need tough love and tougher hate, because I’m far too spineless for my own good and I shouldn’t be stagnantly melting and caving in to that unwieldy trait anyway.

Do you like hearing about my problems? I don’t honestly believe that. Even I’m so sick of listening to the same old shit that I speak over and over again. Whining about problems so trite and unreasonable, even the purest of angels will certainly hate me for it. Oh, I’m sad again. Big fucking deal, so are a million other people out there, but do you see them complaining? No, so I should just suck it up and shut up about it already.

But I can’t, and I don’t. And you unknowingly get caught up in the middle of this ugly mess.

Just like any other rational person out there, you must think I’m rather obnoxious. Petty. Disgustingly needy. I know that’s not your nature, but still, I understand that, though. On the contrary, I understand it more than anyone else ever will. I know I push everyone’s patience to their breaking limits. I hurt and I hurt, and I’ve hurt other people, and I’ve hurt you, and I’m not worth my time or space, and neither should I be yours.

I’m sorry, but the truth is the truth, no matter how much it makes all the repressing lies in my fucked-up brain seethe indignantly. I’m always so pathetically selfish, but I sincerely never wanted this for you. You’re a decent soul with the best intentions and better people to spend your life on. I’m a bad person. I’m a bad friend. I’m always going bad. So why, just why are you being so good to me?

You’re too kind to me, you know that?

That’s being too cruel to yourself.

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Will The Real Author Please Stand Up?

Do you ever get envious of other people’s words?

The way they’re so intricately, elegantly, genuinely made. The way that the sentimental fervour and tortured passion rings out plangently from beyond the curled pages of the book and strikes sharp aches and twinges in even the most desensitised heart. The way you could read them for days at an end and never get tired of the intangible shapes they form, the sophisticated literary art they create, the breathtaking stories they tell. The way that you can never really understand what that individual meant, what they truly felt, and you aren’t quite sure if you could even place yourself in their perception and situation, but despite all that, they’re still your emotions. They’re confusing. Messy. A foreign tongue that no soul, living or deceased, can ever know how to speak again. But you can feel them latching in your hair, your skin, your eyes, your lips, speaking your mind, all the words you don’t know how to say, all the senses you never knew existed in the first place, all the thoughts you don’t know how to feel.

And so you feel inspired. And so you attempt to write.

But your words, on the other hand, are rather insipid and unamusing. They’re the proverbial rain that never gets written about. The damp, stuffy, erratic kind of drizzle that relents to the point of irritation and drips down cracked ceilings and forgotten open windows. The kind that’s well-meant by the dear weather, but never makes its humble way in poets’ thoughts and poetry books, except occasionally to emphasise a depressing thought. You could stand outside that downpour for days at an end and get not a single drop of water on your skin. Your words feel cheap and secondhand, sharp edges worn-down to cliches and dull torpor, no wit to be found anywhere. Your words are no one else’s and you aren’t quite sure if they’re even yours, or just by the ghost that resides behind your empty ribs. It’s confusing. Messy. A foreign tongue that not a soul, living or deceased, knows how to speak. They’re all the words you can’t say, all the thoughts you don’t know how to feel, but you try to make sense of them anyway.

Do you ever wish…that you couldn’t write?

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Overcast

Outside for the first time in a long time
You said you can’t remember what it’s like
To feel more than cold on the inside
But the sunrise will come again and you’ll be just fine…

~*~

It’s been too long

Since I last felt sad

When the pink clouds

Didn’t make me mad

.

It’s been too long

Since I last had a motion

To mess things up

Fall away from the season

.

It’s been too long

Since I last felt the hurt

Sinking deep in my chest

Breaking apart my worth

.

It’s been too long

Since I’m out of style

When the cold was fine

I hung around for a while

.

It’s been too long

Since I shed a real tear

Let myself slide away

Succumbed to my fears

.

It’s been too long

Since I last waited again

For failure to go away

Let the dark into my skin

.

It’s been too long

Since I last saw a daylily bloom

Summer’s just a breath, and I want to stay

But it’s been too long since I last found a reason.

~*~

You are the rustling of leaves
And you are that honeysuckle breeze
You are the sunlight
Shine onto me, shine onto me…

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Native Tongues

How can they say that it’s one way
When it’s the opposite?
And how can they know the end
Of the story before I tell it?
‘Cause when I walk, your feet
They fall to the same beat
Or maybe we’re from two different worlds…

~*~

We used to be the epitome of mindless materialism

Taking apart brick and coin for a little inkling of fun

We talked away in circles, but never in infinity signs

But it didn’t last forever ‘cause we both wanted to die

.

For I never understood why you didn’t ever understand

Until we’re left with empty voices and mismatched hands

I translated it all wrong, you decoded nothing but misery

We spoke in undecipherable tongues, so now we’re history

.

Why did we waste such eloquent words on each other’s lies?

Breathing out sombre songs that never synced the beat right

Wrought desiccated eyes with apertures that flashed blindly

And we set out separate restrictions from the cold apologies

.

We turned back but never forward and we took a couple steps

Too far until we hit the brick walls, this was far beyond any help

How could we plead that it was one-way, intersections opposite

When the fault was a double-edged tongue talking about bullshit?

.

But behind this dead mess, I do admit I enjoyed all the endless chaos

Riding the hurricane with you, and making my own cyclone at a loss

I wish you the same, and let me say I hope you don’t regret and think

Don’t forget the secrets we shared when our native tongue goes extinct.

~*~

We talk to people
But they never understand
They think we’re crazy
‘Cause it sounds like noise to them
Ain’t it strange, all the things you hear
When you sit and listen?

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Halo Blue

We tore our phones to shreds
We didn’t answer nothing
To all friends and family, lost or dead
I couldn’t get much sleep
You lost your self in mine
It couldn’t get much worse…

~*~

Systematic shutdown, and one by one my optimism closes

You pulled the plug on the starlight that keeps me awake

I may not be in my melting point, but I’m still a hot-lead mess

I think I’d rather stay dead than to keep my tongue fake

.

There’s nothing else I would feel if not for our blue hair bet

But mine is deep ocean dark, yours is a bubblegum ice cream hue

Even if we blended together, we can’t ever be a scarlet sunset

Does that mean we should just stop trying? I say it’s all up to you

.

I’m usually full of shit, but I like you and I don’t like anyone, hey

You’re one of my favourite few, and if I were well-versed, I could say

That my eyes are only four glimpses away from reaching your sun

But I’m not, so I guess all I can say is a cliche point-blank ‘you’re fun’

.

Fine, it’s not all about me and my sadness, but I don’t have to care

I’ve been withholding my cries for help ever since I discovered it was there

I might not be cool enough for your cult, but I wanna join the club

Of the haters asking for another lobotomy and demented idiots equally in love

.

With this systematic shutdown’s taking over, one by one my cynicism closes

And you pulled out the wires and circuits to turn off the stars that burned into my sleep

I don’t think I’m thinking straight from thinking about your thoughts all the time

But I would rather stay down than to keep lying to myself about what I can take and keep.

~*~

I think I’ll die obsessed
Let’s give up fighting back
You don’t need to grip the best
Because we’re lucky people
And you’ll never have to sleep alone…

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They’re Better Off Without You

Arrogant boy, when will you ever learn?

That this world is not made up of roses and thorns

Sometimes the blossoms wilt but the weeds will remain

Waiting for a chance to stick briers in your name

You can stop chasing good girls by their hourglass hips

And bringing more rounds of vodka and shotgun to your lips

You can stop using your arms as a substitute ashtray

Or your skin as ivory to carve out sculptures in scarlet clay

And all your best friends that proclaim they’re sincere

Draw insults behind your back and say it’s good fun and fair

They don’t have time for drama, but get front row seats

When you’re deep in the mess, entangled in bullshit

Your smile is bleeding out, teeth scattered on the sidewalk

“Good one, guys” you say, but they never want to talk

Your eyes don’t need fists to be darker than they already are

The lack of sleep does that, when you have come home from war

You read the daily newspapers to know about everything else

Trying to care about them, when you don’t know anything about yourself

You give up your seat for others, thinking it’s an act of selflessness

When in reality, you just hate yourself to much to deserve any duress

And you think that you’re happy, but you’re just distracted

Choosing to admire the vivid carnage when you have self-destructed

Because it’s all the same to you, and it just doesn’t matter whether

Your life gets blown apart mile-high or moves inch by inch like a feather

Blind boy, when will you see that they’re all laughing at you?

Your youth is too old to pursue the optimism of a hard-knock truth

When can you draw the broken line between a break-up and a breakdown?

When will you stop trying to swim and simply let yourself drown?

Ignorant boy, don’t be sorry for believing the lies, but will you ever even learn

That this dismal, ravaged wreck of a world will turn and turn and turn

No matter how much you stumble, trip, and cry on your faded hand-me-down shirt

Time won’t stop, your friends won’t care, your wounds will still bleed and burn

You can scream but no one will listen; foolish boy, don’t you see you’re not much worth?

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Obnoxious

I think with my heart and love with my head
Do you see the problem here?
You rip me to shreds
I think with my heart, you fuck with my head
Do you see the problem here?
You rip me to shreds, so tear into me…

~*~

I don’t know how to approach without causing a tiffed scene

For the situation is delicate and I’m a pubescent drama queen

With a firsthand awkwardness and an attitude that’s second rate

And a single third-degree word from my mouth could exacerbate

The bad into worse, wrong to right, and the good into questionable

I’ve never known how to react in a way that’s decent and preferable

Because I’ve hurt people too much, and my head is a constant mess

I am just another kid with a mean streak and a biro with a complex

It’s not the way it was anymore, now there’s always a tangible tension

A silent crash of peripheral glares, and a screeching of metal emotions

I’m sorry if I’m maundering, apathetic, and constantly act like I don’t care

But the truth is that I actually care far too much—and that’s why I’m scared.

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