Tag Archives: past

Devotion Cuts

You carved out walkways in my brain

With a blunt-edged trowel—laboriously

Inch by inch by quiet inch until I felt like

I was losing my concrete mind completely

.

Only then did you decide to simply jump in

And submerge yourself neck-deep right into

All my secrets and have a taste, or two, or ten

Clinging like a dead bedbug on my worn sheets

.

But when I tried to shake you off, when

I shuddered enough to start earthquakes

Just to make you finally lose your iron grip

When I thought I could sleep soundly again

.

You came crawling back, wings crushed

Eyes blacked out, sharp pincers sheathed

Asking for all of our better times long-gone

My dried blood still on your pleading smile

.

And the sad thing is that I’m almost tempted

To allow you to overcomplicate things again

To let these faded phantom itches bother me

Enough to reopen healed scabs with dirty nails

.

But maybe I only really missed always feeling so bad

And I don’t have to fucking miss anything else

Because when you destroyed my heart for your own sake

I made damn well sure never to return yours.

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Catastrophic Demarcation

Go wreck the clean air for me

And replant some darker green

The kind that runs the world

The one you sought to destroy

With cigarette spewing factories

And cold corporate handshakes

And mass hysteria ignorance

.

Go and poison my faucet drip

With more than bitter chlorination

And occasional sediments of rust

The kind that snakes highly-resistant

Prions right into my better sense

And chokes away all my optic nerves

Into the brink of utter blindness

.

Let me taste all our past and future mistakes

And pay for humanity’s most heinous crimes

For we all deserve imminent hell, don’t we now?

The kind that boils civilisation down to ashes

And piles up bleached bones for the scavengers

Cause if you heed requests from dying machines

Their toxic wasteland will be all that’s left of us.

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voyeurism

conceal the past

wipe your filthy mouth

but your bridal dress

is quite sleeveless

and there’s too much

blood to staunch now—

now am i your perfect

silent witness?

.

the curtain protesting

against my hunched

body, you thought it was

just the midnight wind

billowing, but it was the

breaths i failed to hold

shallowly enraged and

almost fucking deranged

.

as the unspeakable acts are

fed to me live right before

my eyes, i want to throw up

i want to stain my melting mind

with a heavy dose of ammonia

and scream to god, and scream

to stop, let my oxygen burst into

flames from immense friction

.

disgusted beyond rationality

i can’t look away, my skin shudders

as i seem to hear yours being viciously

torn apart with a sickening rip and

a sickening crunch and a sickening

laugh—but why was it yours, shit

why the fuck was it yours?! eerie calm

ensues but i’m afraid to come out

.

from my flimsy hiding place—all before the lights

turn off and a shadow shifts in front of me…

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Temporary Weather

and i’ll catch up.

i’ll stumble out of this blackout, even if it takes more than a few scars and stars and more than a few yesteryears

falling apart and over and down and out and again but never giving in and saving the old lies for the worst parts of my life

left in the past not made to last

i used to believe in you but i don’t believe myself

but now maybe there’s a sliver of faith left over for the both of us to have, if you’re willing to share

you’re doing better now. you’re doing fine more than ever. though you know that stability won’t always mean permanent happiness, you’ve found your comfort in the cold

and the sun, little darling, is slowly warming up to you

and i’m happy for you. i really am.

with your pretty floral dreams, in technicolour. beyond the vale, no longer fit to be called mere dreams. sweet pastels. exquisitely tangible. mine still exist only at night

hiding beneath the darkest shadows and crashing through shut jagged windows and seeping deep like charcoal into my nervous system

and most nights, i can’t even sleep at all

but i’ll shut my tired eyes and make a wistful wish, i’ll keep my sleeves clean for the magic tricks, i’ll bare my levitating heart for the ones that i love, maybe they’ll be amused by it and raise their lips, maybe they’ll simply dismiss it and hate the cheap theatrics but

i’ll hope, still. and i’ll wait. and i’ll create. until nothing becomes something becomes everything becomes

infinities. a second of a lifetime. time. i have time.

and i’ll catch up.

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Smother

Roam the vestibules

And find a safe space

To lose your affinity

Cast off the tight haze

.

Reminders of grim past

Of that person you were

Crushed in agony’s hold

But so blissfully unaware

.

There’s far too many traitors

In a world ever-unmending

There’s no need for you to be

Another parasitic festering

.

So just lose the tinted glasses

You won’t need them to see

And simply keep your distance

As all things should really be.

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Æther

I’ll swim through the milky way

Where no one shall dare to find me

Past countless stars and infinities

Into the unknown mirrors of reality

.

Check in on the me that’s doing better

Find the fold and unravel underwater

Peering into a new parallel possibility

Where I’m not drowned in my misery

.

I’ll change my look and taste the colours

Hold my frozen lungs right into the aether

Push my old self away and then kill another

Just to take the place of a familiar stranger

.

And maybe then, I could find new ways

To lose reckless gravity and float to space

They wouldn’t notice the exact same face

Won’t miss the past me that I just replaced

.

In that strange dimension, I’ll live on

With the other fake ones, a different version

I’m starting over in greener pastures

My mistakes abandoned in a forgotten world

.

Until another me swims the milky way

In hapless search of a newer reality

Perhaps I might also be the unlucky one

This time around, I’ll also be chosen.

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outcast

my friends

want a stranger

to take the

place of my skin

but i don’t

blame them, it’s

easier to be

someone else

.

the distance

saves them from

myself, i’m glad

they don’t call

so they won’t have

to hear the anxiety

seeping in as i

say it’s no trouble

.

i step back and

watch them thrive,

i watch their smiles

grow genuine

as mine wears down

and fades away,

relapsing back

to empty nothings

.

this was never

meant to last, and

the candlelight’s

meant to flicker

and moths shouldn’t

dance with butterflies

my greys will sedate

their pretty colours

.

so i’ll clip my own

wings and take

the risk, i’ll fall out

of their lives

forget the days

when i still meant

a thing, they will

soon forget the past

.

my friends

want a stranger

to take the

place of my skin

but i don’t really

blame them, i know

i’d also rather be

someone else.

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Asylum Fiction

Walk away, in a field of soft roses

Taint of blame and corrupted blood

Pointed fingers pricked on thorns

Carving out olden scars of liquid gold

.

Bloated bodies twisted like vineyard green

Of jealousy, of crushed lies, of purest arrogance

I’m a mere suture away from a finished letter

So cut my chest wide open and read all my sins

.

Surely, these careful feet won’t shatter on glass

That broke beneath the creaking floorboards

Ending the same—trickling droplets of roseate

Infatuated with bliss and miasma, vials of life

.

Almost unattainable, phantom cold to the touch

Picturesque memories sparsely hanging onto the

Dusty hallways crawling with naphthalene ghosts

Roaming, distorting portraits and jagged mirrors

.

And outside the garden terrace, in a field of soft roses

Porcelain bones are buried underneath, blooming with whispered prayers

From a catatonic past, long faded and frayed at the edges

Will you walk away now, or dwell until your soul withers with the seasons?

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I’m Not Mad, Just Going Mad

It’s a shame you can’t make out
That voice, the voice of hope
I could be wrong but he’s not worth it
But in his mind we are worthless
Don’t get me started
It breaks my heart and
I can tell that you are lying
With the way you’re saying…

~*~

It’s back to the same old bullshit routine again

You greet me with blood on your teeth and when

I gritted mine back into a smile without sin

You suddenly decided that you were the victim

.

Now I’m at a loss, my fingers are trembling

Don’t get me started on the way you broke it

I’m stuck in quicksand, so come pull me out then

Don’t just stand there, don’t just angrily weep

.

Because I did you dirty, I made you go crazy

There’s ice in my veins and the snowfall is filthy

“Hey, just checking in, how have you been?

Great? Oh well, that’s fine, but what about me?”

.

Finally, the silence shoots me dead in the eye

As we both lock our triggers and forcefully lie

Ignoring the demons screaming in our heads

Of “What happened? Why can’t you just bury the dead?”

.

So let’s staunch out the wounds and stitch up the ribbons

We can’t return the past, so let’s just return the weapons

So let’s just call it off now and call it off another year

Maybe next time around, you’ll forget that I was ever here.

~*~

Can you say liar? (It’s killing me)
Can you say liar? (And I believe)
This looks like murder
You bring out a livid side of me, I guess…
Can you say liar? (It’s killing me)
Can you say liar? (And I believe…)

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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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