Tag Archives: person

what’s it like?

what’s it like

to be liked?

to be a face

that someone

else adores

with quirks and

smiles kept in

a doting score?

.

to be the start

and the end

of someone’s

best dreams?

to be the lost

afterthought

in their head

still lingering?

.

what’s it like

to be liked?

to be anyone in

a person’s eyes?

to know that you

can mean a thing

so what’s it like

to not be me?

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Scapegoat

Not lost, not blown away
Just irritated and quite hated
Self-control breaks down
Why’s everything so tame?
I like my life insane
I’m fabricating and debating
Who I’m gonna kick around…

~*~

Coat your catharsis

With repulsive medicine

Frustrated with tales

Where you’re not the victim

.

Your pity parade’s quite loud

But no one’s really listening

It was a laugh when it lasted

But now it’s three in the morning

.

And no one’s up for a fight

No one wants to see you lose

No one wants to admire your

Lips that quiver and bruise

.

So please keep it all for yourself

Or better yet, just keep it all away

Make sure to close the windows

And look after the wreck you made.

~*~

Right now, I feel it scratch inside
I want to slash and beat you
Right now, I rip apart the things
Inside that excite you
Right now, I can’t control myself
I fucking hate you…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

deconstruction

mistakes,

i am built of

pencil shavings

lingering with

backaches

bitter sugar

a life-changing

flick of the wrist

stuttered change

homeless thoughts

gloomy showers

drenched in loneliness

small conversations

smaller smiles

overthinking

and undermining

deaf solfeges and

melodic dissonance

coalescing into

lucid obsessions

for somebody who

doesn’t exist

desperate need

pretty in pale purple

cruel in wrong red

damaged boy

starving for salt

like a suicide slave

hunger-crushed

ribs, leather scars

underlining the

scribbled prose

inkstains bleeding

nonsense, rambling

anxiety, trembling

neverending lies

nothing more

everything less

plain as paper grey

human unbeing

still unbecoming

j u s t . a . n o b o d y

is somebody…there?

bad and better

not so clever

tired of counting

can’t fall asleep

it’s been months now

centuries of waiting

yet still dying just

to find out

something, else

anything, right—

nothing’s right;

i am built of

mistakes

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

The Swindler

you’re not

allowed to be

surreptitious

raise all the

stakes, but act

so suspicious
.

this game’s

quite easy, but

you always lose

your words are so

rich, but you’re

not even famous

.

you’re not

allowed to be

sanctimonious

the world turned

away, and now

you’re too callous

.

hang your head

low, the shame

comes in chorus

we see you for what

you are—nothing

but ridiculous.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

(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

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

on the subject of side glances leading to an unexpected intuition…

the petty assumptions

will do you no good

your mind’s still a mess

leave it as you should

he says it’s mental

that’s right for a change

the thoughts you can’t feel

but you could explain

there’s already one

why are you still looking?

hope has a cost, and

you’ll pay for the broken

so prove yourself wrong now

he doesn’t know yet

but don’t leave all that out, and

dare to find out and forget.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

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 .

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Laundry Detergent

keep that dirty soul for yourself

and wear it like sunday church clothes

no one else wants to wash it anyway

.

there are heavy bloodstains, i guess

but it shouldn’t really be that hard to remove

with all that chlorine in your mouth

.

the forecast calls for rain today, but

perhaps the weatherman is lying to you

just like everyone else that’s not you

.

so spin yourself in a cycle one more time

and when you get sick and dizzy from it all

open the windows and hang yourself out to dry.

1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

midas backwards

you can’t be

the better man

if you’re the one

who caused the

devastation in

the first place.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Oh, Ain’t That Clever? (The Hundred Dollar Profanity)

Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who’s the ugliest of them all?
Severed, crawling like spiders
Injecting poison, now kill the bile spewing
The walking selfish living dead
I turn to rust and you play
In all the filth that you’ve created…

~*~

Sweet milk will still taste spoiled

If the mouth is too putrid and rotten

And barbaric words just don’t define

Someone’s being a “good” person

.

Underhanded plagues dyed the rain

With condescension and redder stains

With a wish that the cleave cuts deep

And that leather flesh will never heal

.

As judging eyes feel the need to gloat

Like skies on fire, the ashy vanity floats

Prison’s good but the abuse feels numb

All hands on them until they succumb

.

It’s fine to feel fine, the need to feel needy

And pride has never been so carelessly greedy

But freedom will still taste like putrid decay

When the body’s too bitter to feel the right way.

~*~

And when your dreams have come to end
How will you buy your happiness?
And when your self is all you have left
With what will you fill your emptiness?
You are the cause of man’s dissolving evolution
Is my heart completely useless?

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry