Tag Archives: sad

26 – madness, malls, melancholy

i chase for my friends

forgotten i may be

anticipating the warmth

and better memories

.

breathing the anxiety

in countdowns from three

homesick, carsick, plain sick

hoping for deluded tricks

.

until my blind eyes light up

and my voice gets too numb

from talking, laughing, and

cheering at every little sound

.

though there is a disconnect

that sadder sense of longing

to know they’re moving past

without my outlier belonging

.

i’ll still chase, even when i trip

and show up at every single revelry

with crass smiles and crude gifts

hope i didn’t ruin your birthday party.

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14 – error404: title not found

awful days like these, my brain simply stops working.

it’s a lacklustre string of poetry, an unfinished verse here and there, a crudely-constructed metaphor that even i can’t begin to understand. it’s desperately needing to write, but also not wanting to, somehow. it’s like liquid frustration in a glass bottle.

(see what i mean?)

usually, my creativity is in perfect synchrony with my depression. it’s almost as if every part of my system is also very much willing to expel whatever repressed bullshit is running through my head, and within good reason. i find morbid inspiration in mourning, and writing becomes a whole lot easier for me.

but when it starts going against me like this, fighting hard and fighting long until it gets exhausted and ultimately walks away—and now i feel as if there’s a stopper lodged between my hand and the pen—that’s when everything else in my overthinking subconscious completely goes to hell.

it’s basically being sad without benefits.

such a disgusting thought, isn’t it?

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Eighteen Years and Twenty-Somethings

Was picking up pieces when you
Gave me a reason to be
Falling down the middle
Crawling ’round a little
And I see that space in your head
And I want to fill it in…

~*~

I want to throw my irrational fears down my favourite set of stairs

And fade away the wounds that once defined my unsteady hands

I want the chance to breathe without polluting my lungs with ashen doubts

Drag me out of the skin I’ve beaten within until they can understand

.

So take the breakdowns that broke me up and replace the faulty intuition

The devil on my shoulder won’t compare to the angels in the television

Hang up on this week-long hangover and stop hanging my neck by the rafters

Still deluded by bad choices and old mementos and happy ever afters

.

The kids are not alright these days, and their clothes are stained with sad

But I didn’t think I know that I knew until I have it bleeding out and bent-up bad

So there’s a little cold weather, that’s gonna get a little better, maybe there’s a little sun

Maybe it just doesn’t exist in my head, maybe my moon will have someone

.

So maybe hope doesn’t belong to me just yet, and these noisy voices won’t shut up

Maybe I’m suffering from silent anxiety, shot through the ceiling, it won’t stop

But this time I won’t let it win, I’ll catch it by the tail and let myself spin

Spiraling all the way to space, I’ll crawl through constellations until I find that something.

~*~

I won’t lose my grip, don’t let go
No, I won’t lose my grip, don’t let go
I think I found that something
I think I’ll finally breathe right in
I think I feel that love I won’t give up
I think you soaked into my skin
So much has come from nothing…

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not dead, just deadbeat

‘Cause I carry ghosts of the things
You’ve said, I lay my bones to rest
Night after night, sleepless in Phoenix
Tell me a lie, make me believe it
You got me right where you haunt me…

~*~

my intestines are curled up

like unfathomable truth

like the end of the world that’s

happening in my head

so if i didn’t disappear anytime

i hope i’d just drop dead

they all tell me lies that i know

it’s sad that i still believe it

the past is a graceless substitute

for the smiles in my teeth

the future is a giant question mark

leaving open blanks in my skin

i’m sad to the beat of my own heart

and anxious to the beat of others

i don’t know if i’m being melodramatic

or all of this is just wishful sinking

but it feels real—at least, it’s more real

than all the things i’m never sure of

like the art of tragedy in a false miracle

or if i would ever make it out alive

or lose faith in myself before i say i did

i couldn’t feel low if i have drowned

so i close my bleeding eyes and pray again

that when i open them, i’ll see a reality

where i’m certain that i know what i’m doing.

~*~

Night after night, need you to know this
Tears me apart, I hope that you’re hopeless too
And I know we can kiss the past goodbye…

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No Offence

your snide smiles

desecrating my spine

making my insides

burn and curl in time

deny me the arrogance

satisfaction’s engrandeur

make my tongue sorry

it ever spoke sad words.

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Overcast

Outside for the first time in a long time
You said you can’t remember what it’s like
To feel more than cold on the inside
But the sunrise will come again and you’ll be just fine…

~*~

It’s been too long

Since I last felt sad

When the pink clouds

Didn’t make me mad

.

It’s been too long

Since I last had a motion

To mess things up

Fall away from the season

.

It’s been too long

Since I last felt the hurt

Sinking deep in my chest

Breaking apart my worth

.

It’s been too long

Since I’m out of style

When the cold was fine

I hung around for a while

.

It’s been too long

Since I shed a real tear

Let myself slide away

Succumbed to my fears

.

It’s been too long

Since I last waited again

For failure to go away

Let the dark into my skin

.

It’s been too long

Since I last saw a daylily bloom

Summer’s just a breath, and I want to stay

But it’s been too long since I last found a reason.

~*~

You are the rustling of leaves
And you are that honeysuckle breeze
You are the sunlight
Shine onto me, shine onto me…

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Stressed or Sad (and Turn Out the Lights)

I brought a knife to a gunfight
I brought my words to a fistfight
I brought my hell to you
And now the boys are back
The boys are sad…

~*~

Let’s talk it it out and let’s talk too loud

And spare our breakdowns for the times it’s not allowed

Deprived of oxygen and choked off to sleep

But I’ll stay awake with you, I guess it’s what we need

‘Cause I may not be the best company but I know a thing or two

About being selfish and pretending to be a happy blue

The clever words and rhetorics make us laugh half to death

Drowning our worries in coffee until it’s dangerous to our health

Because it’s times like these when bitter tastes best

And the yonder moonlight is too delicate to get any deeper rest

But I’ll draw some stars and you can paint them in embers

With what’s left of the sky, we’ll write about what we can remember

We’ll scream about our addictions like loose patients in an asylum

Of the southern boys and houston beats until we’re both tired and dumb

I’ll sing a song out of tune, and your echoes fade to shadows

This is the art of somniphobia, we’re good as we are not tomorrow

Tonight we’ll starve the nighthawks and dehydrate the nadirs of melancholy

Until the petulant sunrise glowers at us for being too damn noisy

We were never meant to stay high in a world that’s not designed for the broken

But let calming music glow in your bones, we’ll be entertained until then.

~*~

You’re so cold
I’ve got to know what made you so
Scared to be alone?
I’ve got to know who chilled your bones
That wasn’t me…

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¿ e m o t i o n s ?

i’m happy

like a ukulele tune

twinkly revelry

all the way to the moon

.

i’m depressed

like a relentless failure

finishing touches

of doubts and unsure

.

i’m excited

like a coffee adrenaline

over the clouds

and no artistry for serene

.

i’m anxious

like a falling red hole

no end seen

nor the starlight it stole

.

i’m this and that

i’m both and none

i’m blues and golds

i’m night and sun

.

i don’t know what

to think and feel

i’m still confused

on dream and real

.

so drag me higher

and fly me down

until i figure out

if i’ll smile or frown.

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Mister Doctor Man, How Much For An Autopsy?

I’m Mr. Doctor Man who questions his hands
Lost his mind, but clinically fine
But he found a way to cope, needle in his throat
Falling down, but the world is spinning round
And round, he knows…

~*~

Your arcane consonance is another memory in my eyes

Candelabras, needles, and shale skin is what’s left of me

Sabotaging the magnitude, time is but another simple lie

I’ll be the sick boy soldier patching up your indigo eternity

.

But don’t count me out like the silver glitter in your dress

I may be a fair firmament forecast, but you’re a bad omen

Perhaps your vignettes are perverse, and I’m lost in senses

Remnants of irrational contusions, in a masquerade pretend

.

My artful catastrophe is another remembrance in colder eyes

Chandeliers, syringes, and shallow flesh was what’s left of you

Serrated mutinous, time is but another complicated way to die

You’ll be the sad girl doctor breaking down my lavender infinity.

~*~

Honestly, it’s running through my veins
You see? I don’t need their surgeries
I just wanna breathe; they’re coming after me…

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Gloom Boys in Natural Blue

I have candy floss over my eyes, and no one can ever take that away from me.

I’m a double dare away from jumping into the clouds and getting lost in heaven, and even though their motionless lips tell me otherwise, imploring that the despondent sun will burn my frail skin and my charred cape will drag me back down into the ground, I’ll simply fly over them and defy what it means to be human.

For being an angel is not made of mere matchsticks and febriculic feathers, rather, it is the catastrophic sensation of breathing in your existence from your lungs and never letting it go, holding your oxygen in so tight that your chest will hurt, and tasting the very molecule that the wind is built up of, all before exhaling heavily and letting others share the light that passed the very chambers of your symphonic heart, and inhaling that decadent love once more like it’s the only sugar high you need.

I’ll be dancing a hundred footsteps as I reverently play the halo’s mellifluous beat around my head over and over again, but I shall never get tired of laughing and listening, and the glow never fades, the glow never coalesces into a darker retrospect of aspirations and bad habits, the glow is etched at the very back of my confounded head and if I close my eyes and wish a little softer, I can see pastel whispers floating and resonating behind my dreams, smiling quietly as it tells me fairy stories about twill reveries and acrylic oneirism.

Will you tell me that much? Will you beg in blazing yellow and speak in purple hand grenades, waking up again when the water parks detonate and soothing water splashes everywhere? This is not my gloomy lullaby meant to be kept under hushed tones and clandestine affinities, buried under the bones of ‘92, rather it is an everlasting caprice that is meant to be jubilantly shouted from the rooftops, until the nightingales and mynas and bluejays and hummingbirds mimic the colours in my eyes and echoes back a chromatic rainbow to be chased.

Am I not making any sense, or is the semblance of my self-optimistic throes withdrawing like violent ocean waves? It is not their fault, and it certainly isn’t mine. It’s yours. It’s all yours. This nonsensical tirade making me backlash the usual defamation that is my wretched soul, making me passionate for what used to be desert sand and black light, now efflorescent flowerbeds and ultraviolet ecstasy, making me smile and laugh childishly at the most fickle of things like a madman staring limerently into the cornflower moon. You let a playful cyclone into my bedroom while I was sleeping, and it ravaged my closet and spun me all the way to your window until I was sickly dizzy, and you held your hand out to steady me and pulled me in, winking cheekily at the cyclone and returning its breezy grin before waving it goodbye.

Now that I’m here, will you promise to keep me? Airplane conversations and clustered entertainment isn’t enough to leave me amused. Are you laughing at my sadness yet? Are you performing odes along to me mournfully singing about the underhanded depression that makes me mad all the time and fucks my worried flurried mind up when the night is young and makes me go down the long road home? I’m a car crash that you can’t ever look away from, and I can’t ever look away from you. But don’t follow me to the site of the wreck. If your favourite set of stairs is the one up to my room, piece together the trail of love notes I left in the kitchen that say it all, and when you find me, I won’t ever have to let you go up. Let’s be lucky people, you and me.

Amid tantrums and crybabies, you’re nothing but rare. I may not be a warrior and you may think I’m the worst, but I know I don’t have to sleep alone again. So won’t you stay awake, stay awake for me? If you’re singing about la-la-la-love, my tune is more to the beat of a la-la-la-lobotomy. You’re my yellow lovely jealousy, in natural blue and viridian green memories, I’m losing my mood in a late night phone call, shading everything else from silver to pink to hiding under porches and craving territorial phantasms, it doesn’t matter. My common sense is powerless when you speak, and I’m not royal but I’m stupid for you, and 11:11 can go away because I don’t wish for anything else. I’m tired. You’re tired. Let’s be tired together. It’s more fun that way, don’t you think?

I have gloomy clouds over my eyes, and only you can ever take that away from me.

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