Tag Archives: mood

sulk

influences

on the red of

her lips, and

her cornflower

hair glowing,

an autumn moon

sulking by a

riverside bank

as pastel waves

kissed out the

drought of spring

and i remembered

how to forget…

bruised knuckles,

twisted hallways

filled with ghosts

that no one can chase

but her all alone,

and a room which

held my dark fears

but never let them out.

and left nothing but

silent discontent,

wrong phone calls,

her umber eyes under

the influence of tears

until they turned red

and drifted off into

a sleepless dream.

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Filed under Poetry

Happy April Fool’s Day

I thought I knew you, now you can’t save your name
(We won’t follow the deceiver)
Don’t try to silence my words with your lies
(We won’t follow the deceiver)
This is what I expected, another life lesson is what I’m left with
Look at what you’ve started
A war of words is what we’ll part with…

~*~

I’m not in the right kind of headspace right now.

My moods are just so fucking erratic and insanely volatile that it severely frustrates me and everyone else around me that’s unfortunate enough to fall victim to my inconsiderable foulness. One moment I’m joking around with people and simply hanging around in a chill demeanour, but then someone says something petty and irrelevant that somehow gets me all worked up and then the next thing I know, I’m screaming profanities at everyone and hurting myself again for the stupidest of reasons.

I hate this, I really do. I know I’m being idiotic, and to barely any reason that’s excusable to logic, but I can’t fucking help it.

A weighted feeling is building up inside me, and it’s leaving my soul hanging itself in a teeth-gritting suspense. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like something’s changed. Something so trivial and succinct, and yet it’s shaken up my perceptions and right now, it’s screwing up my entire mentality. And I can’t even figure out what it is. I’m two days away from graduating and the results of the only college exam I took are going to be released (or maybe already is), and I’m not holding out on too much hope, so maybe it’s that. The pressure of everything, the burden of the future and the flickering candle that it holds out for me. The feeling that I should blow out the flame myself before the wind does it for me. So close to the next page, and yet I’m giving up and burning it all away.

It’s foolish, isn’t it? Acting out like this at such a crucial point in my life. My problems don’t amount to anything, so why should I keep on bitching about it? And why am I letting it get to my head? Who gives a shit, anyway? What the hell is wrong with me?

Why the fuck am I falling apart?

Honestly, I don’t even know anymore. Maybe this is my boiling point, and my head’s just about overflowing right now. Six or so years of repressing and ignoring the alarming emotions that have attacked me ought to do a fair amount of damage, after all. I just constantly feel weird and unsettled and anxious and empty most of the time, and the main distractions I have to keep me at bay aren’t even working. The endless dreaming that I contradict with my own uncertainties, the ambitions that five seconds ago I’m so sure I could reach but now I don’t think I’ll ever handle to reach for, the people around me that make me feel like shit, either intentionally or unintentionally, the self-hatred that’s so poisonous that it’s making me cave in on myself, everything’s too much. And I don’t know how to expel it from me, how to do catharsis that doesn’t involve me tearing myself to shreds, I don’t how to deal with everything anymore. I’m even considering seeing a therapist or whatever, even though it’s opposed to everything I stand for as a self-built, self-destructive, selfish person, as if I even have the capacity to do that, because I’m really going bad. And once I’m way past my expiry date, there’s no going back.

It’s always been this way, me against the world against me, and I’m a stickler for the familiar and don’t like changing things if they ain’t broke, but how could you do that if everything was already broken in the first place? I just don’t want to punish myself anymore. I’m tired and wrung out of my mind and my insecurities and venomous emotions are relentless and eating me inside out like starving, virulent parasites. I need actual help. I really, really, really need some actual help. Because it keeps getting worse, worse than ever—which after a couple of offing attempts I was a hundred percent sure wasn’t even possible anymore—and I don’t know what I might do to myself if I become insensibly irrational enough and more daring in my fool’s exploits to try to get rid of whatever the hell this unknown horrible feeling is. Who knows how far I’ll go.

And I’m fucking scared. I really am.

~*~

So don’t act like you don’t know
Exactly what you really are
The truth will find us both in the end, in the end
The difference being that it will
Show me blameless while it robs you of your breath
Your deceiving is worthy of receiving an end…

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Filed under Prose

first act, insanity; next stop, recovery

“I never meant to hurt nobody
I never meant to hurt you, no, no…”

~*~

acrid laughter is ringing in my ears

good-natured, perhaps, to them

but the sound pierces like twisted barbed wires

straight through the caliginous corners

of my teeth, bared like a regurgitated heart

and almost—if not just as—crimson

as the fucked-over severity in my demented head

but sometimes it feels good to simply pretend

that the banter is a little less than risque

and i let my agitation be fooled…what an idiot.

as i’m sorry plays like a stenographic record

etching deeper grooves in the back of their stares

but never playing the right kind of music

am i screaming a typhoon in your clear day parade?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i want to cut it out

i want to cut my fingers open to point it out

and take all the sharp-edged blame all for myself.

but my testy temper rides on the flexible bullet

severely mutilating this nascent entertainment

that masqueraders and pantomimists have played

for the melancholic, esoteric, plastic actor

and you insisted on applause and receptivity

despite my initial protests against it all

for i am not your contagious chemistry audience

but i surrender my scab blood to you anyway

and keep clapping on and on until my hands fall apart

like a marionette’s lamenting swan song;

like this borrowed skin that sheds itself as we speak.

their laughter is mutating into vicious sneers

stabbing like blunt edges of a mangled fountain pen

and making me grit my shattered teeth—

your fogged-over eyes interpreting it as a smile

amused, but i’m simply bemused by my endurance.

i’m tired. i’m tired. i’m so fucking tired.

of the teasing testing taking terrors tampering

with my dysfunctional mood, its revolution ever retrograde…

it’s not your fault. did i ruin your sunshine again?

i’m sorry. i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.

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Filed under Poetry

Mood Rings

I never have to carefully shape sentences
When I’ve got some words to say
They’re falling from my mouth from the time
That they hit my brain
‘Cause we built a picture made for frames
We live in chemistry away from all the wasted time and taste…

~*~

There’s a reason why I like the pink in your mood

My words hit the ground, but you catch them so we’re good

If time’s running out for me, I’ll be sure to take it slow

I may be high on conflict but on your sights I’m low

.

The amount of space between my smile and eyes are closing in

But frustration and disappearing sense is not a problem

Because if you laugh, then I laugh, and if you cry, then I die

The city’s a slow waltz into the colourful cocktails we have to try

.

I may speak my mind but I talk with my heart

And it only takes one skipping beat to know where to start

I keep falling for everything that wants nothing to do with me

But I’ll keep trying until the blondes stop being pretty

.

I change so quickly, I don’t even know what to think

And your face goes from soft violet to vivid blush like a 90’s trick

I’m the rain that you chase, you’re the lone cloud in May

Our weather’s too erratic and unstable, but I adore it anyway

.

So don’t get me wrong, your fingers may be pointing

But I’ll take them in my hand and yell bang, the bullet’s flying

You’re troubled by the clothes you wear, confused looks good on you

It accentuates the glow in your halo, but you never had a clue

.

I’m asking all the wrong questions, but you still answer them right

And I’m hoping to the moon that you’ll answer the most important one tonight

I’m dirty red, you’re canary yellow, let’s collide together and be orange fire

A hurricane’s sleeping in my bedroom, can I stay over? We can dream until we’re tired.

~*~

My mood’s dictated by our conversations
And if you don’t text I get too frustrated
I want you all to myself this time, t-t-time
Conflicted looks good on me, I’m trying desperately
I want you all to myself this time, t-t-time…

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Filed under Poetry