Tag Archives: reality

weakday

after a few days

of the weekend

successfully deluding me

weekday’s kick

sets in hard, and

it’s back to fucked reality.

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Let’s Cheers To This

I’m losing control, my head is alright
I can’t shake the thought of me losing my mind
Been away for three days, won’t sleep ’til I’ve done
All it is I’m living for, now I will show you…

~*~

I’m already running out of faux words to say

So my blue blood just does all the talking

I wish the answering machines would shut up

When I’m in my bedroom, locked, blind, menacing

.

The pain sticks around for another retreat

Dousing me in concussions and nitroglycerine

I’ll be the expired month-old medication

That’s still ingested out of pure desperation

.

Patches of red scabs and frayed purple veins

A razor to the throat, daydreams that will remain

Ashes on my fingertips, but I’m not sorry

For the burning under my skin still scares me

.

I can’t go back now, for my lies melt and shiver

I’m left to degrade, my suns left to wither

Compensating for the dangerous sensations

I pulled the trigger on my character assassination

.

Perhaps soon after never the cuts will heal in jagged scratches

Carved in my backbone, my skull worn-out with deep scalpel notches

Nevermind that reality’s expendability is not a viable option

Let’s say our prayers and cheers to this, I’ll swallow without tasting my poison.

~*~

Your soul is down, I‘ll break the dawn
I took the stage, and now we’re
Taking back tonight, I made up my mind
This is my life.

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Dancing with Roses and Resisting Temptation

Bleed me out, I know you’re the first to listen
When I scream aloud
I’m coming clean again, and I will do my best to
Show you who, who I was and who I am
Don’t write me off, please hear me out
My skin is so much thicker now…

~*~

But I must tell you, sweetheart

Blood is rarely so romanticised

These scarlet kisses on my skin

Are veined vanity, lesioned lies

.

Pain must be such a sorry thrill

By risqué reality in rancid roses

A glamour of the red that spills

Like liquid lipsticks and dresses

.

I love the way the slits do smile

I hate myself for being charmed

I love I loathe I lied I lust for lost

As rubious tears keep me warm

.

But each night, it ends the same

More of hurting for less the gain

I get sick of what keeps me sane

Then I forget, do it all over again

.

It might seem decadently pretty

Almost enough to vie for a taste

But those glass shoes won’t hold

When you’re waltzing on blades.

~*~

I feel it in my bones
Not feeling anymore
The writings on the wall
My scars are at the door…

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Friends vs. Fantasies

I absolutely despise social interaction

And I’ll forsake the company of others

I would rather not have conversations

Or indulge for my brothers and sisters

.

When I attempt to be amicable, acquaint

It feels like I’m scarfing down lead paint

The smiling, greetings, painful small talk

I don’t feel any better, as away they walk

.

The only friends I will ever require are you

But what a damn shame that isn’t quite true

For you’ll only visit me when I’m fast asleep

Your separated reality is never mine to keep.

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can’t figure it out

if i can face

one reality

then i can

face another

what i can’t

face is my

inability to

be a stupid

motherfucker.

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dream or reality?

that was the most fun

i have ever had in my

fuckfest of a ruined life

if I can do it again, i will

but when i woke up, it

all dissolved, and i am

back to kissing knives

just so i could try to feel.

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Truancy

i’m relapsing

back to the old habits

that got me rife,

kicked out and

expelled gracelessly

out of a good life.

old habits die

hard, but i’ll die

even fucking harder

so please push the

air out of my lungs

and fill it with water.

it’s truancy and blades

and blood-red ink,

it’s guilt over music

screaming internally

so i won’t have to think.

it’s brooding in bookshelves

scribbling on paper

and drowning in books,

falling out of reality and

hiding under the tables like

a broken broke crook.

it’s beating and seething

and semantically cheating

in the classless class,

it’s skipping on responsibility

and regretting, and my

conscience now tastes crass.

i attempt to assure, and

i say it’ll be fine, it’s only

for half of a wasted day,

screw it, i’ll be fucking okay

even though i know i

won’t be anyhow anyway.

i’m relapsing, i’m collapsing

i’m the suspect confessing

my criminal records curt,

so don’t try to pull me out

of the wreckage, you know

in the debris, you’ll just get hurt.

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letters to s.d.: fragment #2 {inked}

vi[REDACTED]inc[REDACTED]te[REDACTED]

.

the tattoo of your name

embedded in the mutilated

skin of my arms, reminds

me of why i’m surviving

this wreckage of a war

they look at it like it’s dirty,

i’m besmirched with black

but it’s the only tether to reality

that keeps pulling me back.

.

to[REDACTED]rry [REDACTED]ime pre[REDACTED] mik[REDACTED]nte[REDACTED]

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Mama, didn’t mean to make you cry

Mama, we’re all gonna die
Stop asking me questions
I’d hate to see you cry!
Mama, we’re all gonna die…

~*~

Mama,

The baby boy that you cared for just didn’t want to be your son

He wanted his dad to look up to, he wanted to be a better man

He tied his shoes the way you taught him, lace over under one

He packed his bags to chase the sky, and away your baby boy ran

.

Mama,

The baby girl that you loved just didn’t want any of your compassion

She wasted her life and bled her thoughts with rusty gears and a knife

She tied her hair the way you taught her, plaited neat with a pink ribbon

Clicked her heels and stole some wheels, now your baby girl’s a wife

.

Mama,

The little child that you raised just simply didn’t want to let you down

For you worked your backbones broken and you sold your golden crown

You just wanted a better future for us, and to live to see our tomorrow

Oh mama, how would you have known that it would all end in sorrow?

.

Mama,

I don’t know how you always have stark hope, forever keeping our strayed faith

Pray some more, sweat every pore, and cross your fingers hard until it breaks

But mama, you never asked anyone anything, no, you never begged Him why

I’m sorry mama, I promise we will be okay someday, so don’t cry, please don’t cry

~*~

And if you would call me a sweetheart
I’d maybe then sing you a song
But the shit that I’ve done with this fuck of a gun
You would cry out your eyes all night long!

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nightmare

reality is

just a bad

dream and

oftentimes

we never

wake

up.

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