Tag Archives: mind

epochs

i’m overthinking

you’re my overthought

hope lost to the seasons

confused sympathy forgot

flavescent streetlights

doubt and paranoia

dimming like bad habits

can’t be more than nostalgia

left cold in the end with

a wicked iridescence

was it all just a mistake?

all falling out of better sense

.

i’m overthinking

you’re my overthought

i promised to escape

unlacing every tangled knot

and embers dying out to

shivering uncertainties

of a fugacious infatuation

your effervescent kiss

so let me be the patience

and the future violence—once

my mind falls with daybreak

resting with our unfazed dalliance.

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finish line

is it time

to let this

fall apart

i’ve gone

for months

now without

any spark

.

if my mind

has sunk

to the very

bottom, then

how can you

tell me to

simply hold on?

.

is it time

to let this

fall apart

i’ve played

my role, and

i’ve done all

my parts

.

if my mind

has sunk

so low, i

can’t reach

then how can

you tell me to

even breathe?

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on the subject of side glances leading to an unexpected intuition…

the petty assumptions

will do you no good

your mind’s still a mess

leave it as you should

he says it’s mental

that’s right for a change

the thoughts you can’t feel

but you could explain

there’s already one

why are you still looking?

hope has a cost, and

you’ll pay for the broken

so prove yourself wrong now

he doesn’t know yet

but don’t leave all that out, and

dare to find out and forget.

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mindless

you’re a

constant

distraction

in my careless

absent mind

.

you’re a

constant

distraction

but i suppose

i don’t mind.

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27 – musings on gil puyat station

oh, she’s like this cardboard city, with the subtle way she’s barely holding herself together.

she’s an anachronism, of late-night guilt and freshly-brewed coffee; no sugar, no cream, barely sipped. she intertwines her deepest confessions inside my vulnerable chest cavity and suddenly constricts without warning, completely sucking me dry of resentful consciences and clever second thoughts.

though i talk with corroded shackles beneath my tongue, i care not for the sharp tang of rust. while she solemnly weeps for fictional infinities on the other side of the country, i impatiently await that impending reply as i absently gaze outside the window of a clattering train, basking at this city, built upon centuries of dusty grey smog and busy promises—of fragile bodies barely touching, barely stopping to breathe, barely existing.

she has an irrational need, that insensible girl, to save what can no longer be saved, to control what is far beyond her means, to create as it destroys her. the pleading words on the dull glow of my screen are a tangible whisper, tasting of colliding tears and bitter shame. “i want to help you, like they always did for me, but—i fear…i fear i cannot.”

can you not, indeed? my ulterior rejection is swift and bordering on impolite; but i still listen, and descry for mutual understanding. for though i shall never admit it out loud, your blithe persistence undoubtedly plagues me; to the very throes of my lavender dreams—resting beneath the stars as i turn my back upon that flimsy conversation and that paper metropolis, and allow myself to think clearly again.

to her, i am the eternal glue that holds her together. to me, i am the stranger who mercilessly ripped her apart in an attempt to reconstruct her to my own selfish beliefs.

who is right? what is the relative concept; of wrongness, of forgiveness, of sudden change and reconciliation, of the flismy trust that you broke, and the tested faith that broke you?

and who am i to tell?

the verdant landscape of laguna finally greets my wandering eyes and thankfully pulls me away from the echoing cries of that city, that poster past of a coalescing city that fills up my thoughts with a charcoal haze and renders everything else an unfamiliar slate of grey. my sighs are comforting once again, and she no longer appears to be just another one of the million impostors i came across today.

she means well. she meant well.

though—call it nihilism if you may—at the very least, she should be tolerable to her qualms and fear not the fortunate reality of losing me; arms unfolding, heart reaching, mind forgetting.

and fade away, i will. a plastic boy like me has no place in a cardboard world like this.

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nocturnes, numbers, nyctophilia

It meant nothing to him any longer, only a faint tinge of sadness—and somewhere within him, a drop of pain moving briefly and vanishing, like a raindrop on the glass of a window, its course in the shape of a question mark. ~Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand

~*~

i.) the jealous penmanship

clever words left tears forming in my brain

ones that i have to open up my healing bruises

just so i could let them out somewhere

somewhere my veins wouldn’t be affected severely

(it was late at night, and my stars called out from nowhere)

sensations poured out from every letter and departure,

as it entangled itself with my nerves and wore them down,

and wore them like a dirty dress, and wore them out to town

until they were worn-out; nothing but a few stray threads.

i burned half of my journals when i turned 16 and stopped trying

to imitate being an author, because writing for me isn’t an expectation–

it’s nothing but another puzzling lock without a skeleton key

and because the most delicate daydream wasn’t mine

because selfishness, to me, is not just another bland adjective

because my bones screamed with the weight of a black hole

because your reveries were enchanting. and mine were f a d e d

n o , i ‘ l l  n e v e r  b e  a s  g o o d  a s  y o u

~*~

ii.) softness, like his heart in the shape of a newborn galaxy

i faded into an ugly shade of something that’s neither monochrome nor coloured;

on the verge of collapsing onto the other side of the fence, threatening madly

but never quite having the contemplation to choose a losing side

as i fell down into the blue of a stranger’s wanderlust eyes.

someone else had taken most of that vibrant shade already, but i managed

to steal away just a sliver, a glimpse, an infinitesimal shiver

and it was the kind of lasting cold that froze summer hurricanes

and kept my breaths visibly foggy and crisply sharp with every inhale

(you never warned me. you don’t know me, but you knew me too well. and i never listen.)

i’ll always be an insignificant detail in the cyan tapestry you painted for yourself

and i’ve accepted that long ago when i said i loved you in my nightmares,

tossing and turning on the bed covered in plastic arrogance because

no other blanket felt warm and comfortable enough for my body to sleep on

until then, i could only sink deeper into the fathomless wish that this universe would end s o o n

i t  w a s  a  k i n d  o f  l o v e  t h a t  m a d e  s u i c i d e  s o u n d  l i k e  m u s i c

~*~

iii.) an abrupt goodbye/the guilty party often disappears first

i was mad at something. i didn’t know what it was, but it was foolish enough

for me to take it out onto the embracing autumn sky, on the taciturn smiles that

were supposed to hold me when tempestuous desolation grabbed at my twisted throat…

and on you. you never meant anything. you just wanted to talk, and so did i,

but my tongue was a spilling box of blades, and every time i opened my

wounded mouth to make you laugh, i always ended up cutting you by accident instead.

(friend, even if i said i’m sorry, can you ever forgive me for what i’ve done to you?)

it was an unreasonable apology, and i erased myself because of my own self-hatred,

but not before leaving footprints of a migraine in your head, which you will inadvertently step on,

slip at, and hurt yourself…fuck. i don’t know why i’m like this. i don’t know why i have

to push and pull apart the only semblance of logic in my life, the only anchor

that keeps me from towing away from the tides, the last person that still feels real to me

when everything else has blurred into an amalgamated indistinct static background;

i don’t know why i feel so smothered, when you’re the only attention i’ll ever have and need.

at this point, the only thing we have is each other’s problems, and the way we both

jeered at it, taunted it, and blocked it out with our own shared playlists until we felt better—

but now that summer was just a distant memory, and so was the scarlet artwork we made of it.

you also needed comfort. but did even try? no. i ran away from the colliding wreckage

as if it wasn’t my fault, and i numbed myself out because i couldn’t do the same for y o u

i ‘ m  s o r r y  i  m a d e  y o u  s a y  s o r r y  s o  m u c h . . .

i  d i d n ‘ t  m e a n  t o  d e s t r o y  e v e r y t h i n g

~*~

iv.) the midnight closes. the violent curtain falls.

the cold glow of my computer screen was rude and restless

and it made my fingers promise, crossed and uncrossed, that i would

stay with it until it slips into comatose. i have rinsed my mouth with lukewarm water

a hundred times to try to wash out the taste of stale coffee, but it never came out and now

i’m stuck with it until morning, until another astrological moon cycle, until i lose

myself in the chemical moments of something that’s so artificially natural.

i’m constantly starving myself, stuck between confidence and relapsing withdrawals of

my past life that i thought i discarded when i finally held on to my shooting star,

but it was always tethered tightly to me by a crimson string. and it always probably will be.

i’m alone. i’m friends with people that talk shit to me in the mirror, and when i bite

my chapped lips and draw blood by accident, it almost feels like atonement. almost.

(i got what i came for and i can’t try again. this is what i want…..isn’t it?)

i know that there are people out there making fun of me and rolling their eyes

petulantly as they bask in the trite, whimsical “perfection” of their storybook existence

but not everything has a happy ending, and not every sad story has to end badly.

i don’t know. i’ll never know. i’m tired and i have responsibilities that i’m not

built for, and every crack turns into a break, and a break into shattered p i e c e s

t o m o r r o w  i ‘ l l  d o  t h i s  o v e r  a g a i n  .  u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  t o m o r r o w s .

~*~

v.) nocturnes.

( a n d  i ‘ l l  s t a y  h e r e )

u n t i l  i  r u n  o u t  o f  n u m b e r s  t o  c o u n t ,

a n d  t h o u g h t s  t o  f e e l ,

a n d  n i g h t s  t o  s t a y  a w a k e .

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Repetitions

Clever minds think alike

Don’t you, don’t you think?

A line so blurred, I can’t decipher

In varying shades of both ink

.

Clever minds think alike

Can’t you, can’t you think?

A curse so shared, it’s almost weird

Or did your mind just blink?

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The Devil’s Vision

Must I denounce myself as a monster while you refuse to see the one growing inside you?” ~Hannibal Lecter

~*~

He drips blood from the corners of his sightless eyes

And wipes it off silently, praying no one has seen his lies

But the devil drew smiles just as he drew out red water

Devour the mind and heart, teeth a grim rorschach splatter

“What do you see?” asks he, as the clock begins unraveling

He pretends the blindfold is tight enough to obscure sin

Enemies will flee as their friends are turned upside-down

The blunt instrument glints, a masquerade of gruesome frowns

And at the edge of the madness, the verge of suspended hell again

The devil sits with discretion, adjusting his veil of human skin

As he tends to the fear, crying in vain, losing their very humanity

And the devil is hungry, oh-so hungry—“do…you…see…?”

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Filed under Fandom Poetry, Poetry

Swallowing Diamonds: Does It Hurt?

Don’t even know if you left a note
Should we blame the Dekapote? Or vilify the Abilify?
You were trying to find your vanilla sky
Then you unravel, facedown on rock bottom
Fucking chewing gravel, because
A human’s so fragile, what can you do?

~*~

Got another issue

Pressing like a migraine

And all the healthy “bless you’s”

Can’t repair, can’t compare

To the amount of extraordinary pain

That’s felt with every angry stare

.

So I take a pistol that’s pink on one end

And swallow it whole ‘cause my life depends

On the gunpowder chemicals

Checking up on my broken physicals

Recycling my blood through and through

10 out of 10 doctors recommend that it’s true

.

They all thought I was blissful

‘Cause they never wanna hear about

The things that are fucking awful

Trained by clinical trials, trained by pharmaceuticals

So I’m still saying “I don’t need your help!”

As I choke on my fucking gavel

.

I’ve got a teaspoon of anxiety for my head

And a glass of borderline thoughts before I go to bed

As my body fights every request and rejects my skin

The strangers may praise me, but I will never win

Even if I had all the money in the world to sell out what I love

Would that change the happiness I lack in my blood?

.

‘Cause everyone’s a critic

And a cynic and they all “get it”

When they’re living in glowing cities

With their missus, acting clever

With their 9-5 IQ’s and 401k GPA endeavours

Feeling guilty their children didn’t get their Nerf Guns

.

But monsters don’t discriminate, it’s all fair game

No blame on no names, every label is the same

You could be sitting in gold and still don’t want to get old

You could be in a prison cell and don’t do what you’re told

Or you could be like me, contemplating a straitjacket tee

On my way out to an existence that doesn’t cope out too badly

.

So maybe there are issues that cannot be fixed with tissues

Or underhanded “you’re fine’s” or endless rounds of “bless you’s”

But it doesn’t hurt to compare and it doesn’t hurt to repair

The amount of extraordinary pain that no fake adrenaline stain

Nor serotonin on our hair, taken with a beggar’s angry stares

I’m only human like you and them after all, would it hurt me to care?

~*~

They press our teardrops into diamonds
They change our sorrows into gold
They’re gonna turn our blood to rubies
We just need someone we can hold…

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multiverse

Remember me, she whispered
Heaven’s so far out of reach, and keep me close
Like a moment you’re afraid to leave
So now this is how it feels when you’re all alone
This is how it feels when your heart starts racing
You can ask but you’ll never know
The way it feels, the way it feels…

~*~

we’re not in the same universe anymore

and our tears flow in different states—

almost as that of plasma and gravity,

perhaps identical, but not at all the same.

the nostalgia creeps up like bated breaths

dead into the silence in the middle of the night

and it stays to suffocate the humid air—

and it stays to suffocate the insomniac mind.

there’s some form of sophisticated equanimity

that was achieved by neither of our farewells,

because the end was approaching at breakneck speed

and there simply wasn’t any time to be more polite

cutting out crass with guns we left in each other’s mouths

hoping the trigger doesn’t get pulled with our fingers

like issues, contorted into funny shapes that don’t make sense

breaking off has never been so easy as a lacklustre smile

but the stars never forgive, even when they forget

and the light from the horizon flickers indistinguishably

forming a supernova of your voice, faint though almost palpable

branded like indelible ink stains on the canvas of my brain.

this reverberating staccato, this thoughtless caprice, this infinite lethargy…

it never ceases to write cold epistles even when i am fast asleep.

oftentimes, i look into the other dimension of that cracked mirror

into the faceless impostor, the version of me that existed

before you killed it off, and before i killed you off in my plane,

and wish to the efflorescing quarks that you’re feeling the same way.

~*~

Lost and terrible, hollow in ways you’ll never know
If it’s all in my head, all in my head
It’s heavier now than it’s ever been, so fake a memory
Keeping me quiet underneath
And if this is the end, if this is the end
Destroy everything and make it new again…

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