Tag Archives: pain

Cutting It Out

When I look in the mirror 
I know not who I see 
It’s hopeless, I’m hopeless 
But I’m not sorry for what that I’ve done
They had it coming, we all die someday
I do what the voices tell me to do…


I want to cut myself open

And come back inside

The recesses of my bones

Broken and pathetic tonight

I want to slit my smile

From my ear to my throat

And I’ll choke myself to sleep

Drunk on blood and bloat

I want to scar myself absurd

Hanging on to every word

That I wrote all over my hands

I don’t even understand

I want to be bruised or bitten

Torn apart and be smitten

By the throes that keep me up

They never want me to stop

I want to cut myself to shreds

Crawl back inside my cesspool head

I don’t want a body that betrays me

In a life that doesn’t even want to take me.


It’s always easier to kill 
When you’re already dead inside
Lock me up ’cause I’ve lost my fucking mind
Rock back and forth, it kills me, it thrills me
Rock back and forth, to see you dead…


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a muse’s musings

you gave me

a brilliant surge

of optimism—

so bright, it’s

rather painful

i was never one

to count my stars

before they appear

but now i’m hopeful

for all of the doubts

incarcerated me

and it’s always

disappointingly brutal

but now you’re here

with a sign so clear

so i’ll hold on and

carry on until i’m far.

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Seeing Red

I thought I could.

I really thought I could.

But I can’t. I can’t.

And the worst part is:

This doesn’t even

Fucking hurt me anymore.

I have nothing else to do.

I have nowhere else to be.

Guess I couldn’t.

Guess I’ll fucking never.

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Every minute that you scream
Before the errant scars
And the dying stars

Every second that you take
To fake your life…


smile it out

and feel the pain

another word

to your disdain

you stupid kid

who wants to hear

about your aches

about your fears?

so stick it out

and feel their joy

you’re just a tool

you’re just a toy

take the blame

avoid the conflict

your wretched name

is never worth it

did they buy the act?

another great dare

you could be truthful

but who would care?

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just a little more for overdose

My mind is wide asleep, my conscience deep awake 
The promises I keep are not the ones I make 
I count the caustic causes, I lost count of regrets 
A surplus of good intentions, don’t provide me with content 
All I want is just a little content…


my mother

has a secret stash of valium

and i want to find it

and drink it all

to keep myself from

impulsively banging my

migraine-shot head

into the wall

and possibly haemorrhage

because she doesn’t believe me

that i am in pain

i’m in pain.

and it’s not just physical

but if it doesn’t show

in thermometers and bruises

that must mean

i’m faking it

to get out of class

because what sane person

wouldn’t want to feign

being suicidal for such petty reasons?

i’m breathing heavily,

ragged cries echoing hollowly

on the bathroom tiles, and

my feet are shivering

from stepping on the wet floor

for too long, but i can’t run away.

i try to make up my mind,

waiting for the spots of blood

to catch in my ivory soap

but instead the tears beat them to it.

it hurts it hurts IT HURTS

i want to scream

but my younger sister is still eating her

breakfast obliviously outside,

most likely wondering

why the hell

i have been silent

for more than 30 minutes now

i hope she thinks i’m dead.

i hope i wish i’m dead.

i’m waiting for her to leave already

so i could tiptoe out

of the bathroom

and get a new pair of metal smiles

goddamnit, she better hurry up.

meanwhile, my mother is ready to shove

the wall clock down my throat

and shriek at me that

i’m already running late

i know she wants me dead.

I know i want to be dead.

and of course, she blames me

for staying up to do

the only thing i can do

to try to just fucking stay alive

better to be dying inside

than to waste my cold future

and skip a day of class

(as if i have a future at that point)

i don’t have to be a liability

to her, to any of them, right now

and this sickness was

my own undoing,

i was clearly asking for it.

i’m guilty

of what i know

but not of what i did

to myself or them

but for what i did even though

i have what i need alone

…i’m fucking weak,

i know already.

and to think that i actually

cared for these bastards

once or even twice

in my life—how disgusting.

my mother

has a secret stash of valium

that she’s probably

knocking down

all at once to keep from

impulsively slamming

my migraine-shot head into

the pristine white walls

because she thinks that i’m a liar

and since i guess i am…i fucking believe her

just as much as she believes

that i am in pain.

i’m in pain.


I choose the beaten path, I’ve been to where it leads 
Why I keep coming back, a mystery to me 
I found what I’ve been seeking, it’s too late for me to care 
My aspiration’s leaking from a hole I can’t repair 
Maybe I just don’t want it repaired.

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the one

Only you can make all this world seem right
Only you can make the darkness bright
Only you and you alone can thrill me like you do
And fill my heart with love for only you…


how can i say

that i envy the chase

from the tip of my pencil

to your graphite gaze?

spitting my heart

onto an endless canvas

of greys and blacks,

hoping the red would stain…

but it never does.

only your floral words are

indelible on my skin

and the reverse

is just a lie i tell myself

so i could sleep a little better

every forsaken night.

the truth is far from your moon;

beyond all your pretty stars

and iridescent eternities,

it is despairingly beyond my fathoms.

but i hope, and again i hurt

for butterfly smiles

and deluding taciturn undertows

and nightmarish illusions

leaving bruises of you

on the very tip of my lost tongue

and all over my wept eyes;

a lifeless empty void

against the autumn shower

of your warm hermetic glances.

and there is no one else

to keep this rusted clockwork

ticking rhythmically to the beats

of your mindless cradle…

and that is the ultimate folly

of this ascetic destructive shale

that i tactlessly call my soul.

for a fool’s machinery,

this chemical heart is.

So indiscernible to lose itself in

such vitreous self-infliction,

and sabotaging the very blood

that my tiring arteries

now regain, thus to sustain

the very memory of your breath

in tranquil consonance…

foolish—and yet; a fool, i am.

a fool for believing that this

lie was past the dark side of the moon

and beyond my wounded stars

and lacklustre infinities…

you are despondently beyond my fathoms.

but i hope, and again, i hurt.

ma cherie, just how can i ever say

that i envy the calm reflection

from the incipience of your melody

to your coda’s revelations?


Only you can make all this change in me
For it’s true, you are my destiny
When you hold my hand
I understand the magic that you do
You’re my dream come true
My one and only you…

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fire escape

a quiet blue burn

in the spaces of my palms

taking me within

keeping my numb mind warm


a quiet blue burn

leaving blisters on my arms

it doesn’t hurt at all

it only drags out colder harm.

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Thespian fascination dares to overtake me

Oppressing every facile notion in quiet synergy

Red is the shade to which my dreams fade

Tortured is the tint to whence desire is unmade

Undercover lover, eyes may forget why love

Repents in fragile oneirism, it’s all you ever have

Eternally bartering in an abundance of stitches

Delaying the pain reverent when your heart hitches.

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Isolated Distances

Push them away with the whim of a wind

Until their stretched fingertips are irretrievable—


You are falling, alone in chasmic rage;

They need not suffer with your chagrins.


Draw away further until no one can ever reach

The dangerous flare that burns skin and town alike…


No harm, nor ache, nor hurt, nor pain,

Needs superfluously to cross their aureole smiles;


They’ll remain alright as long as you are not

And the sun will keep revolving in the absence of your breath.


Though if you only wished to express clamorous such

Contagious toil, in the faith that some empathetic mortal


Will understand, and hear you out, and actually listen—

How inconsiderately conceited and selfish of you.

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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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