Tag Archives: nervous

Stagehand

It’s almost exquisite now,

The way chewed nails drag

Softly behind the curtain

As if a total nervous wreck

Before the ultimate show begins

.

And the encore is just

A fake bloody kiss, and the

Applause is rather hit or miss

And the trained actors are stiffer

Than all the cardboard props

.

But when the rusty spotlight

Comes around, and the lines

Are mimicked badly, they will

Graciously go save you a fromt

Row seat for the entire family

.

Leave behind a single rose

Plucked from a severed tooth

And twist the fingers of every last

Dying enemy, for the end of yet

Another successful blasphemy.

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(p.s., i think it’s spelled with a c, not a z)

caffeine resurgence

i’ve chewed my lips

.

half to death, and yet

nervousness twists

.

gordian knots down

the line in my body

.

where the blood and

bad ideas connect

.

rushing all the way to

my head, making me

.

feel dizzy, half crazy

extricated motions

.

my consciousness

craves bitter humour

.

barking laughter, but

i’m far from happy

.

just another white lie

of another blurred face

.

you’re making it kind

of awkward to think

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lights, camera, action!

i am a candid facade—

i am no longer the crashing wreck

portrayed in movies and books

bleeding out question marks and

bad decisions to the open ocean

.

i am the jaunt in your sunday steps

and the gaily tip of your hats

and a million dollar movie star

with the confident mouth and purple hair

.

i am a candid facade—

i am not me. i am not me. i am not…

i am dissociated from all my

failures and collapses, from my

depression and desperation,

.

from me, from myself, from i;

i am not me. i am not me. i am not…

.

until i am not becomes i am me.

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bedroom serenades

Now you’re gone, but I’ll be okay
Your hot whisky eyes have fanned the flames
Maybe I’ll burn a little brighter tonight
Let the fire breathe me back to life…

~*~

remnant of voices

saccharine pristine

never been better

i’ll listen forever

.

wind’s static noise

can’t mask laughter

we can’t be sober

i’ll listen forever

.

midnight memory

simple symphonies

a life in full colour

i’ll listen forever

.

serenading back

‘til morning sighs

so end this never

i’ll listen forever

.

it’s a nervous sea

but i don’t mind

i’ll listen forever

will you hear me?

~*~

I will sing to you every day
If it will take away the pain
Oh and I’ve heard you got it, got it so bad
‘Cause I am the best you’ll never have…

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Nervous Wreck

You’ve got a lot of nerve

At the tip of your tongue

When you were the one

Who made me feel sorry

I was still even breathing,

The one who made all my

Dreams feel secondhand

And just a cheap thrill drug,

The one who made it seem

Like underground reposing

Was the only option for you.

.

You’ve got a lot of nerve

On your mouth, and none

On the organ past your ribs—

But that’s alright, because I

Lost mine when you twisted

It into a noose and made my

Cold throat feel numbed-out.

That’s alright if you want to

Murder trust and then act like

You’re the fucking victim here

Just don’t drag me down again—

You could do that for yourself.

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Eight-Ball/Outlook

I’ve eaten bricks for breakfast

And my tongue is set on fire

All my nerves have lost their nerve

And my brain’s a walking satire

.

As the people are counted off

Like the fingers I have trembling

Attend the wake of my mild mistakes

And rude intermittent whispering

.

So I wait, and I breathe, and I sit steady

As I wait for the signal to turn ready

So I wait, and I write, and I try to find

When my heart’s made up its mind.

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mental block. (8)

***

fingers tapping

an impatient grind

to keep the nervous

energy away from

my anxious mind.

***

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Filed under Poetry

the waiting game

anticipation

is building

and building

and building up

and still building…

but without

the relief of a

needed release,

it’s all i could do

not to crumble

under my own

nervous weight.

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Static Sessions

And you can’t fight the tears that ain’t coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive…

~*~

It’s rather strange and desensitisingly nerve-wracking, standing up there with shivering knees, under the judgment of glaring spotlights and hanging magenta lamps, and past the scrutinising pupils of a million watching stars. I do not feel like my own concrete entity, merely a disheveled apparition trapped in a foreign body. The amp screeches—jeeringly, it seems. I momentarily blanch. What the hell am I doing?

Perspiring profusely, trembling hands holding the gibberish lyrics to an unfamiliar forgotten song and an impatient crackling microphone, the beginning intro of the acoustic guitar sounds like a banshee’s scream that’s prompting my knotted larynx to begin making even an inkling of a noise. Quivering, quivering, quivering; dreadful hesitation and a near-death anxiety that wrings the delirious butterflies out of my stomach in an icy-cold freeze. An infinitesimal moment of silence. A skip of a heartbeat. A suffocating breath held until it coagulates. A spill of acherontic reluctance spilled down catatonic spines before one jolts and realises in shock that, surprise surprise, my parched mouth is actually producing sound!

Thus the song proceeds, with or without me. It’s up to me to chase after it’s vivacious footsteps. My voice is no longer my own, simply a phantom illusion; I barely feel it rising up and down, strumming the musical bars to the best of its abilities. Everything tastes like stereo static; clapping and cheering amid guitar and tambourine amid the anxious symphonies I relayed. The quaint scenario tangibly intensifies into a steady culmination, vertical horizons alighting into spontaneous combustion. Steadfast certainty underhandedly replaces the oscillating nervousness within me, pastel assurance slowly seeping in my ticking aegan-washed bones and strengthening every fibre of my abandoned sensibilities.

I find myself closing my eyes and loosening my grip, my driftwood soul getting pulled in the undertows of the euphoric moment. I can barely hear my own voice anymore, and I do not hear the crowd at all. Soprano, baritone, octaves, trebles, notes and rhythms and senselessness and song, they’re all that envelops me right now, my solitary company in this madness of a world. Raging fire burns in my emotions, thawing the glaciated blood in my veins, warming up the frostbitten angels barely holding my terse heartstrings together, bringing oxygen back to my perforating pulmonary flow; and nothing else matters anymore, only me and the music, the music and I.

The interlude swells into a deafening crescendo, and my frizzling neurons go off like fourth of July fireworks, showering the sky with brilliant sparks. It’s infinity on repeat, infinity in my teeth, infinity rushing low, infinity on an all-time high. This feels fucking amazing. What was there to be afraid of? Why had I been terrified all this time of such a ludicrous notion? Perhaps if I had steeled myself sooner, my brillo-pad songs would be less abrasive, and the ticking clock would’ve been on my side. But no matter, for I shall not dwell on the resentment of the past that keeps me embrangled within incarcerating doubt and merciless agony. Rather, I will focus on the now. This is me, doing what I never dared to do, doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I’m doing this for them, my beautiful divine motivations, though more importantly, I’m doing this for me, and for me alone.

The set comes to a slowing halt, the prospect tinging me with hints of sorrowful melancholy, and the audience bursts into polite applause, but the enraptured sensations linger still; and as I amble off the stage, I still find a soft lone melody humming whimsically at the back of my mellowing incandescent mind. It’s over, I sigh out to my palpitating lungs, to my shaky footing, to my disbelieving mind, attempting to calm my frantic pulse back into a metronome lullaby. But it will never be quite over, wouldn’t it? I ponder with a secret smile. I finally found my voice. I only hope I don’t lose it again. And I can only hope so hard it hurts that I don’t keep it to myself anymore.

~*~

And I don’t want the world to see me
‘Cause I don’t think that they’d understand
When everything’s meant to be broken
I just want you to know who I am…

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Filed under Prose

disembodied

every breath

feels like a

paralysing stab

in my lungs

my veins are

as tense and as

abraded as worn

ladder rungs

i strive to

maintain and

suffice such a

liquid composure

but instead i

submerge in the

depths of my

arrogant inures

as the dread draws

blood from my

starving idle heart

and the sense in

meaninglessness

starts to depart

i feel so splintered

i may as well be

anyone else but me

but when i exhale

in a shudder of pins

and needles, i find

myself still stuck

in this body.

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Filed under Poetry