Tag Archives: panic

primum non nocere

please let

the devil in

his horns

have already

punctured

what’s left of

your lungs

do no harm

fractured faith

suffocate the

scapular in

your hands

and whisper

bled words not

even god can

ever begin to

understand

as he knocks at

your door, a

steady rhythm

pounding like

the cascade

of panic in

your heartbeat,

screaming

and imploring

let me in

let me in

let me in

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deliria nervosa

mass hysteria,

melting down into

a million jagged

pieces—of pure

nonsense and

plastic panic

philosophical

diatribes taken like

placebo medicine

lost in a wreck

unopened letters

hanging by a thread

shivering hands

no longer sane

reaching still for

the final claim

so find out before

time inches

forward, a sharp

blade straight down

the left lung,

searching for a

cavity that’s about

to detonate

from cortisol and

mad serotonin

blown out of

proportion, mixing

in confusion but

finding no answer

next to liars and

cancer; euphoria?

pure mania? take your

colours, it’s over

it’s over, the deed

has been done

the consequences

hold the lock, the

key is missing now

and the demons

have been unleashed…

calm your mind

from bad decisions

anxiety’s grasp

will suffocate you

like it did—

like it does and

it will—but please

just keep it down and

let the concrete set

before you sleep

on another pile of

instant regrets.

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ativan

a mouthful of chalk,

mixed with lead and ashes

as the room spins a record

only my dazed eyes could hear

.

a mouthful of chalk,

mixed with your toxic words

my migraine plays me a film

of my self-destructive apathy.

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20.5 – arrow (pt. 1)

i.) target

the guilt absolves itself at the edge of my paranoia,

screaming and clawing up my throat, madly pleading

“you’ve killed him! oh god, what have you done?!”

crashing towards a trainwreck of panic, and yet

there’s only one casualty to be found, fitfully tossing

and churning on their bed of needles, as they dreamt

about a nightmare where they weren’t a murderer—

when i didn’t make myself out to be nothing but a murderer.

your messages bore no resemblance to you; babbling

and illegible, desperately trying to lodge itself in the nooks

of my broken ribs, searching for the bullseye in a heart

that was never there. i swear, i only wanted a little bit

of control, but i got more than I bargained for—

and now for all i know you might be done for, all because

i thought i could manipulate the way that you think…

so now, i’ll pray to a god that i haven’t believed in for years,

and hope against hope that my apologies will be

enough to keep you alive. i’m sorry. i’m sorry. what have i done?

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17 – urge

today, he woke up after four hours of a very restless sleep, his cold bones craving madly with the overpowering desire to simply cease existing.

it wasn’t his usual run-of-the-mill panic attack or anything he could handle. it felt…different, somehow. more threatening. more accessible. more tangible.

it felt strange as hell to him, and considering that his main thoughts consisted of daily morbid jokes about demise, that was already saying a lot. all he wanted to do then was to go back to sleep, but every time he shut his eyes, he could vividly envision his own warm blood liberally pouring out of his arms and spilling all over his bedsheets, dripping from the edges of his stained white pillows, and finally pooling all over the floor, where it patiently awaited for someone else to stumble and get hurt on it.

it felt real. it was almost too real. he wanted it to be real. this time, this time, this time

he was so tired and confused; still muddled by the coalescing haze of heavy medication and sleep deprivation. he didn’t know what to do anymore. he wanted to physically call out for help, to chat up a casual friend and tell them about everything that’s running on his mind, or perhaps to dial his estranged parent’s number and finally confess that he couldn’t take it anymore; anything but keeping it to himself again. this was dangerous. he’s in danger. he should save himself.

but he didn’t do any of those. he couldn’t. after all this time, he still could fucking not.

so instead, he gave way to asinine distractions and a different kind of pain to bide him by, hoping that what he was doing is going to be enough; waiting, waiting, waiting.

it’s been eight hours since he first woke up. he’s still all alone and staring dully at the darkened walls of his bedroom, and the immense hunger is carving his protesting flesh into a sculpted gauntness, but he doesn’t dare move. he barely even dares to breathe.

now, he’s calmed down considerably—but not in the way he should have been. he’s too calm. he shouldn’t be this calm.

and it scares him.

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Filed under Prose

7 – next time, just leave it to the experts

disasters—

panic and dark stains

look at the mess

you’ve made…

.

run boy,

why don’t you?

fix the damage

and change chaos

.

disasters—

soaked shirt and beige

just look at the

mess you are…

.

run boy,

why don’t you?

save all the saints

and give ’em hell.

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Filed under Poetry

Opioid Daydreams and Narcotic Nightmares

Maybe I could swim into your thoughts like your drugs do
Paralyze your body, sick and tired of waking up to
Burning eyes and cigarettes, I’m falling through the couch like
A suicide mission tonight, my god, here comes the downside…

~*~

The fumes I breathed in

Are as delicate as my polluted lungs

As frail as my state of mind

.

I look for a way into the dark

And step on cigarette ashes

Unaware of the inferno I might find

.

Crushing acetylene with two fingers

And heating the water a hundred degrees

To boil away this senseless rut

.

Inhaling, exhaling, once…twice…thrice…

And one more drag for the long run

Calm until the first punch hits my guts

.

My throbbing heart goes a’creeping

Into my trembling hands comes a’knocking

Painting butterfly psychedelia

.

I’m waiting at the foot of my deathbed

Staring at my lethargic lucid corpse

Tasting a million shades of phantasmic deliria

.

Anesthesised until I no longer feel myself

I no longer feel my broken bones

I no longer feel the pain like the ashes

.

Blowflies turned to pretty birds

Concrete floor turned to rainbows and raindrops

Until paradise wears off and slowly passes

.

But despite the exclamation points

Scribbled all over the blank walls, I won’t

No no no no no, I won’t ever ever panic

.

The blood and oxygen flow

Falling and reversing until my system

Is senescent retrograde and manic

.

And I’m hanging upside-down

On a cross, crucified by my lighter

Flesh pinned with syringes

.

Scourged and castigated

By angels and roman hallucinations

For my sins and perpetual binges

.

But I won’t die tonight, no I won’t

I won’t die yet…die yet, I think

And I’ll exalt those whorls of smoke

.

Submerged in a tempestuous sea of euphoria

Until I sink deeper and deeper into the hazy currents

And I begin to choke.

~*~

Trigger my nightmare once again!
And it’s fucking loaded in hand!
And we’ll let the fire rage
The smoke and the drowning flames
My bedroom computer light is the only
Menace to my new faux wooden blinds…

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Dominance

And you’ll see your closest ones go first
Who needs enemies you’ve got friends
I’m a gentleman and you’re a liar
I expect the best of you but it’s so hard…

~*~

Oh, that never-ending thrum of her lifeblood. Splashing under vein and skin perceptibly, the splattered stains of her rogue lip-gloss submerging the hazy mascara-smudged gazes that she immediately crashed to the linoleum floor with a rejected dismay. What a mess—she looks drop-dead gorgeous tonight.

I approach her cautiously, casual and debonair, as to discourage unnecessary alarm. I admit, I was never one for such contrivances, writing unromantic lyrics at the back of my hand just so I can hold hers, irony unkindly spitting in my face with a sneer. Yet should she fancy a cosmopolitan to tear away the shreds of her enmities, I’ll be holding out a martini glass and nodding sympathetically, twisting the grim words as if it were Romeo’s dagger deeply shoved in her caved-in chest. Don’t bleed out yet, dear fragile porcelain girl, my obsequious platitudes and sycophantic adulation are yours to hoard and accrue. I’ll acquiesce in this chemical compliance to adorn your melancholy with rude festivities, I swear upon my heart.

Listen closer…do you hear her shattering tears inciting instantaneous panic on the dancefloor, digging holes deep enough for graves and hawking out salacious vultures to claw their way for the poor damsel in distress? Listen. Don’t be distracted by the jubilant electronic music whose undertones screamed of a mechanical cadaver behind the microphone, and hear the sound of a thousand starving beats ready to rend her apart. There they are now, the prurient salivating bastards, screeching and cawing shrilly, swooping closer and closer, razor beaks ready for the kill. It was up to me to stave the ravenous scavengers off tooth and nail, and never should it be said that such a task was not without tribulation.

I left that place beaten and badly wounded. But I do not mind the pain, for these fresh battle scars are an instrument of deceit; it shall only drag her in further into the elaborate delusion I set up for her to indulge herself in. She’s smitten by woe, deluded by pity, confused by liquor, a triumvirate of a perfect malleable soul. In her bloodshot eyes, I’m the bleeding fragile porcelain boy now, and it’s her adamant responsibility to pick up the pieces of my flesh that the scavengers left behind, it’s her self-blame and guilty contrition that will bandage them back together and fix my bruises to the best of her abilities. Deja vu, it seems. Yet, observe how the tables have turned. But no matter. She has my heart, if I had any at all. She is solely mine now. She is mine.

Listen…listen again. Listen closer, and hear the faint orchestral symphonies of her gossamer abstract body keeping me awake all day and singing me to sleep all night. Oh, that never-ending thrum of her lifeblood. How it tastes so fucking sweet between my sullied palms. How it thrums no longer now.

~*~

Let’s start over
When we reach the top, we’ll watch you bury yourself
This wasn’t easy, it wasn’t easy
I watched the weight of your world cave in to crush you.

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Filed under Prose

Cheers And Happy Judgment Day

Oh, what a time to be alive!
Wake up and smell the dynamite
And keep your eyes locked tight to your screen
And don’t believe everything that you see
You’ll find, modern life’s a catastrophe…

~*~

Walk to the end of the world and cheers to judgment day

We’ll drink all the champagne we want and no one gets a say

I’ll wait ‘til the second coming and get drunk on criticism

In a planet gone wrong, these plans go on, it’s simple mentalism

The losers and lovers and liars all holding up their lighters

Saying three cheers to us and three cheers to all the ones that hate us

I’ll be joining the crowd and singing aloud, trying to drown out

All the screams for peace and sedated panic, they’ll end without a doubt

.

Walk to the end of the world and cheers to judgment day

Life is a game and I didn’t even know how to play it anyway

I’ll kick up the rocks, tear a hole in my socks, maybe I’ll have some fun

We’re all fucked anyhow, so why change now, we were always on the run

The kings and the clergies and the jesters tearing down their castles

Saying we almost had it but it wasn’t worth it, it was nothing but a hassle

I’ll be joining their laughter and offering some banter, trying to ignore

The things that we’ll lose and the things that we lost and the things we had before

.

Walk to the end of the world and cheers to judgment day

Count the mistakes we had, the good and the bad, and throw it all away

I’ll give one last kiss, this time I won’t miss, before the apocalypse

There’s something else worth doing in this world that’s going to ruins

For the men and the ladies, the children and the babies crying, scared to die

Their prayers won’t reach heaven, but they’ll sure as hell damn well try

I’ll be joining celebration and losing any emotion, trying to accept

We all knew this was coming, but the delusion’s better than having nothing to expect

.

Walk to the end of the world and cheers to judgment day

Humanity is done burning days around the sun, guess we couldn’t stay.

~*~

Is it just me or does anyone else
Feel like this could be farewell?
Oh, we almost had it
Then we pissed it all away
Building walls, dropping bombs
Stop the world, I’m getting off
Oh, we almost had it
Never thought I’d see the day
When the world went up in flames…

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Signal Number Four

Don’t stop now, though the motion sickness has you
Spinning out, ’cause you’re on your way
Oh, my friend, just look how far you’ve come and
Think twice before you go and throw it all away…

~*~

You’re on your way to the hemisphere

Then discard your self-destructive fear

It’s manic but don’t panic, oh calamity

Doomed typhoons pick up your sanity

.

You’re in pieces dashed at the tidal waves

Tsunami and dizzy hurricanes you saved

Caught up in rampant and torrential rains

Hoping that they could rescue your remains

.

If this is a storm, then where’s the casualty?

Drenched in common colds of catastrophe

Thunder screams at the back of your head

But the lightning never follows close ahead.

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Filed under Poetry