Tag Archives: reference

A Happy Kind Of High

I know that there’s no dealing
With the way I’m feeling
I’m so out of touch with everyone 
And everything’s a blur to me…

~*~

I’m super high on happy

The dopamine nearly kills me

Bouncing like an excited puppy

Smiling wears me all the way to revelry

Slightly crazy, mostly high

But right now I’m too stupid to die

I may have ditched the walk to town

But playing sour notes won’t get me down

I could talk about love all day

But don’t get me wrong, ‘cause it’s easier to say

Than to complain about my cold coffee

The sugar tastes sweet, laughing over candy

I’ll never be royal and I don’t wish for gold

But I just don’t want to do as I’m told

I might have missed another point

But keep your eyes off me until you appoint

Life in blue and colour-coded pastel

The empty picture frames I have can go to hell

I may be tired, but there ain’t nothing to it

And I won’t stare and quietly sit

Because I love songs that scream, songs that dream

Songs with titles ripping at the cover’s seams

I love songs that I can dance to at the top of my lungs

And songs that don’t make any sense, I won’t leave them unsung

Made in America, from Houston to California

A wild party in Baltimore, childish theme parks in Florida

From Australia to England, each road and tour a trip

For each minute I walk and listen, ain’t anything I’d skip

I’m dizzy and frisky on this unfamiliar feeling

My hands raised in devil signs, my feet touching the ceiling

I’m confused, almost passing out from hysteric serotonin

But still I want more, enough to take me all the way to heaven

I’m super high on happy, and I will write a million words

About my eccentric thoughts in this square-cut world

Because I may be sad all the time, but that doesn’t mean

That I’m not allowed to have fun, and in the rarest times that I do

It’s more than what I need to carry on and crave life again.

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Chase Atlantic

For you, I chased down atlantic until it was drained and empty, consuming every last drop, and still, you were thirsty.

Xans, Oxy, gram, adderall, molly, vicodin, ketamine, codeine, amphetamine, heroin, every medication legal and illegal you selfishly overdosed on like it’s the sweetest candy, drugs and money fucking everything up, riding the waves, breathing in the ozone layer and craving the vaporous atmosphere, until all you could hear are birds singing at midnight and all your blank glazed eyes could see where pink shadows coalescing in the basement and the sound of your own synesthetic undersea voice, sewn up into crude stitches before it shatters soundlessly against the restless pastel ghosts; and you find out you were uncomfortably lying on your back in the bedroom floor all along, staring at the unlit ceiling dripping what you thought were your own tears but turned out to be rainwater, dial tone screeching your garbled songs, trying to call nobody at half past four in the morning, worn-down carpet igniting the smoke alarms with your interminable vices. I could only wish to hell that I was there to put it out.

There was a certain elegant delicacy in your tactlessly constructed words, soft beatnik aspersion and aggressive indie slurs romancing and entrancing my chilled spine, humming saxophone amid the alluring amalgamation of incoherent voices intertwining together into a strange, tangible, panicking tranquil. It was an art form in itself, inimitable, one of a kind, scattered accentuation your personal intricate signature. Every careless lilt about the dangerous pseudonymous girls you slept with last night, Angie, Cassie, Roxy, and the pill-popping pharmacists you’ll hold up with a gun as soon as the sun hits tomorrow. All these unsettling courtesies set in three parts of pastel grey and explicit roses, the dalliance and the nostalgia of everything, you were speaking in a foreign language only the truly sick in the head could properly understand, and the way you talked about all the mental pressure and self-esteem and choking anxiety so goddamn beguilingly, the way you talked about addiction as if you weren’t an addiction in itself, the way you just fucking aren’t, it got me overdosing on the panoply panache and sovereign shit on your bedside, but I was so into it.

How many times have you made my pulse beat when it was no longer mine? Every single afternoon, I wake up with a stabbing jolt like a guillotine’s rope pulled tight against my throat, gasping and desiring desperately for more, more of your prevarications. It was a talk show tactic, and you were the host telling me to talk slow and tell no lies, and I was your prize trophy, spilling my secrets and picking my battles cautiously, even though I knew that you were probably lying to me all along. The world was on your shoulders, angels hissing temptations under your skin, and we danced to the beat of your laughter and talked endless miles of film spiels about friends and no friends, gravity and good vibes, church walls and dancing in the dark with the devil, indiscretions and junkie stories high on adrenaline and dopamine, driving too fast and run over by the cops and swimming and thrashing in paradise until we’re so much higher than before, and everything was rhapsodic…until you hit the trigger and got me begging on my bleeding knees again. I’m scratching my nails, shivering madly, abusing my liver, and tearing the veins off my dead-ass heart as you killed my sanity, and baby I was only 23.

I’m obsessive. You said hold your breath, you’ll save me from the fading injections and we’ll run away right here to the underside of the world, and I won’t need to miss you and your anchor tattoo. And fuck it, but I believed all your twisted promises so fervently. I didn’t expect to fall instantaneous victim for such a scrupulous stratagem, this alternative relativity of drugs and parties not my accustomed niche, fucking up this whole thing. I was married to the screaming voices that serenade me everyday and haunt me every night, and I was theirs to render completely deaf into freedom; until you came out of nowhere and divorced me from the nightmares, and you incarcerated me—you made me even worse. You’re a psychopathic fringe wearing a smile on your face and holding a knife in your hand, you’re becoming a work of art. You don’t look too sane when you act like that, and babe, you won’t live too long with a mind like that. I was always fastidious about the taste of serotonin that I place against my lips, but even though it’s fire I’m kissing now, I’ve already been burnt, I fucking have. And I love counting the cigarette stains in my fragile marred skin, sepia-shaded nicotine tattooed permanently between my fingertips, branding me with your whispered name. My parents say I’m crazy, but I only wanna be buried six feet under your bed, ready to meddle about and smoke the cancerous stars away with you anytime. They say be rational about these things, but I stopped being reasonable the moment I listened to your drugstore symphonies and drowned in your cheap perfume. This chemical destruction is beautiful. I’ll keep it up, and I’ll keep riding the waves, crashing into you once more. And why stop at all? Okay is all I know right now. Mama I’m sorry, but reality’s boring.

For you, I’ll chase down atlantic until I’m drained and empty, consuming every last drop, and still, I’ll be thirsty for your eyes.

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Chronicles of the Senseless and the Sleepless: Staying Sober

Well now this could be the last of all the rides we take
So hold on tight and don’t look back
We don’t care about the message or the rules they make
We’ll find you when the sun goes black…

~*~

And we proclaim that I don’t look the same as I did yesterday

Every bruise and blemish counted is just another reason for me to stay

If misery was punishment, then we’re both headed for the guillotine

But I’d rather be decapitated and headless than an overthinking machine

Every story we’ve had to throw, profanity mixed casually like cocktails

Only the starrified night and empty pavements can witness our fails

Waging a war against murderers lurking in the shadows of the city

Sodium streetlamps and laughter illuminating in each other’s company

Hands painted black, music caught between the skins of our teeth

Verboten made verbatim, calculating in every sense of blame and defeat

Maybe we won’t forget the good times, and let the bad times go to hell

Devil may care but we won’t mind, say but don’t tell, give what you can sell

One last drink to toast over, before this damn year gives way and finally breaks

Shots for every adventure and misfortune, one for every felicity and mistake

Alcohol to alleviate the drowsiness, and coffee to nurse the raging stomachaches

I may be a shambling mess, but for this I don’t mind staying just an hour more awake.

~*~

And you only live forever in the lights you make
When we were young we used to say
That you only hear the music when your heart begins to break
Now we are the kids from yesterday…

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Bang Goes The Nerve

And bang bang bang

Goes the beat of the guilty hearts

We’re singing songs for the wicked

And it tears this apart

So cry cry cry

About the modest words

That set eyes on a hurricane

And broke down honest worlds

Kiss kiss kill me again

Savour the moment, let’s be friends

But dance on the ashes, ignite the fire

Deprecation’s a bitch, and you know how to use her

Walk ahead and go go go

I’ll put your complaints on hold

And if they died just trying to miss you

Arrogance must feel so cold

And bang bang bang

Goes the beat of the guilty hearts

We’re singing songs about clear-cut misery

The end doesn’t know where to start.

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2 × 2 = Death

two times two

makes four

does no harm

but two times two

makes five

has its charm.

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The Devil On The Horizon

Are you sick, are you tired, and you’re feeling vain?
Your lips are turning blue
I know you wish you were dead to the world
But there’s something you should know…

~*~

A scream that cuts like the edge of a pensive

Bullets and serpents caught between your teeth

Gritting and gnashing until the pieces shatter

Drown demons under gasoline and burning water

.

You swore there was a heaven, and you let us keep it

You swore there was a hell, but you have kept it secret

Living in this filthy world of hospitals and deathbeds

Singing a little fucking louder to keep from being dead

.

Take us through woodworks, past wolves and putrid decay

Flowers for Medusa, I’ll go tell Slater in the bathroom door

Heal the hurting with rusty needles to sew the pain in half

Within a canvas of dark ink, true maven artwork soul falls

.

Trapped under circle pits, dragged under entrancing spells

We’ll join the club of antivists, our middle fingers up there

This liberation against possession, anarchists for catharsis

What’s yours is ours, and all this hatred could go get pissed

.

The jaded beep of the tiring monitor may never feel your heart

But this mind feels each beat of your raging pulse steadily restart

Sempiternal like the horizon, and you’d better fucking believe it

You’ll scream for the damned and the broken, yeah, that’s the spirit.

~*~

You’re scared, I can see you tremble
Shaking like a dog, shitting razor blades
Feel the shadows like a stranger
Well, join the club, yeah, join the club
Do you think you’re the only one who feels the way you do?
We’re all fifty shades of fucked up…

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Little Blue Boys

Little chubby blonde boy

And his big brother holding

A blue mini-soccer ball

Oh, here they come a’gigglin

Little chubby blonde boy

And his big brother grinning

In their olive-green trike

Oh, there they went a’ridin.

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I don’t care…

I’m so fucking sick

And you’re contagious

Just how perfect can we both be?

But another patient

Has already cured you

Shit, why couldn’t it have been me?

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The Boy with a Cold Star and a Dry Pen

Vices which I taste with every splinter of your desire

I may be dramatic but you’re responsible for my fire

Cold I feel, you’re out of kerosene and I want a jacket

Flair of selfishness as we collide and forget our regret

Underwater as we sing, romantic sirens under the sky

Eternity can wait, our severed hearts ain’t ready to die

Never did I find tempting so fucking sweet and alluring

The misadventures we have, I stow away in reminiscing

Every flaw, scar, and piercing, your criminal soul I adore

Save me darling, how I wish the stars will bring you more.

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🌹 Red Rose of the Dead 💀

♪Isabelle♪

I fell in love with this song

It struck me in red and blue

I fell in love with your song

And that made me love you.

~*~

× Under the Ice ×

Such tears that pierced my iris

And took away the neon lights

T’were all reduced to nothings

When along with me you cried.

~*~

≈The Sound of a Ghost≈

How can a voice I’d never heard

From the soul I can never yearn

How can a heart I never learned

Make every note and tone burn?

~*~

¡ In the Bronx ¡

The rage, the anger, shredded in

The suicide song written on skin

The interlude of a flamenco beat

Your agony was always my treat.

~*~

♥ Love Will Surely Bring Me Pain ♥

The very first memory out of many

I can still remember how it told me

Of liquid limerence behind the pain

Intertwining screams, love remains.

~*~

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