Tag Archives: scared

Obnoxious

I don’t know how to approach without causing a tiffed scene

For the situation is delicate and I’m a pubescent drama queen

With a firsthand awkwardness and an attitude that’s second rate

And a single third-degree word from my mouth could exacerbate

The bad into worse, wrong to right, and the good into questionable

I’ve never known how to react in a way that’s decent and preferable

Because I’ve hurt people too much, and my head is a constant mess

I am just another kid with a mean streak and a biro with a complex

It’s not the way it was anymore, now there’s always a tangible tension

A silent crash of peripheral glares, and a screeching of metal emotions

I’m sorry if I’m maundering, apathetic, and constantly act like I don’t care

But the truth is that I actually care far too much—and that’s why I’m scared.

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Nightly Vigils

her broken fingers trembled

as the vivid scars on her pale neck

drew another drop of blood

and dripped down her cotton gown

.

the dim lamp pulled back

arches of demonic silhouettes

sleeping beside her with

their fangs bared beneath fragile flesh

,

she was terrified to move

even a sinew or a twitch of a muscle

frightened that she might get hurt

scared that she might feel pain again

.

the stars cackled their sympathies

in the cracks of the closed venetian blinds

and the moon was like a watchful eye

under an impairing blindfold

.

the night was dragged by the ticking

of the ancient pendulum clock

every now and then clanging boastfully

but she didn’t flinch; no, she daren’t

.

simply lying there in silent agony

without a warning or a clue of

the dust that gathers in her eyes like

the old tears she couldn’t shed anymore

.

and her incensed thoughts were louder

than the wailing, moaning, and screeching

of the vile creatures she was damned

to remain in ill-fated company with

,

she gritted her teeth and clenched her knuckles

as the abominations stirred, squirming and

writhing in her mattress, and every touch

felt like a thousand tiny pieces of rusty razors

.

her catatonic body was stiff as a corpse

as she counted the hours until morning arrives

when all the monsters disappear from her room

so she could stop holding her stale breath

and bandage her freshly-cut wounds.

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Weightless

Make believe that I impress
That every word by design turns a head
I wanna feel reckless
I wanna live it up, just because
I wanna feel weightless
Cause that would be enough…

~*~

Right now, I think I’m alright. My orbit is spinning steadily, caught in constant motion against the gravity of greater stars, keeping me from flying away and colliding with other astral bodies. The stars I rely upon are simply breathtaking. I deign to taste their enthralling radiance, but I’m aware of the impossibility of such a foolish notion, so I simply content myself to revolving around it lightyears away, thanking it silently for keeping me in line as I admire it from afar. But sometimes, for no discernible reason, the gravity weakens, and for a moment I break and drift away, attempting to pull back to my tether, terrified that I may never be able to bring myself back to that gravity, to the only thing that’s keeping my from crashing and vanished into oblivion within a black hole, forever lost in the infinite void. Hydrogen flares in my atmosphere and almost burns me up, as I strain and strain and strain back to that star, to that planet, to my solitary source of hope and light that always falls out of reach, to no avail. Then, to my great relief, the gravity slowly returns, returns to take me back in its reassuring grasp, returns to make me feel safe, and I can breathe easy again, comforted in its halcyon force. But as I continue to spin around the star, I wonder when the day will come when I finally drift too far away, too far for the gravity to reach, too far for the star to save me, too far gone. Within me, an earthquake deepens the rift, spreading veins of crevices and cracks, making prominent, irreparable faults, my molten core’s coriolis barely holding me in. And I wonder, I do wonder, which one will win the unwinnable race, which event horizon will occur first to end me. Will I fall away or break apart?

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testing hot water

oh, he’s so edgy

as a blunt blade

and with a sneer

have you unmade

oh, she’s so sharp

as chiseled stones

and with her drop

shatter your bones

oh, they’re so angry

and preciously proud

i should be scared but

who’s laughing now?

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metal & skin (xi.)

waiting for the right

time to come

isn’t really helping

all it does

is further intensify

the agony

that you’re prolonging.

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[R/L]oss

I’m losing a perfect thing

Past the pastel cracks glaring

Those western eyes were once mine

Now only concrete I could define

Distractions, cold stars on my skin

The sunset whispered words again

Life wasn’t a movie, I got scared

I’ve taken measures not to be prepared

Drag the motivation it burns away

Chafed like elbows on mannequin display

I’m sorry, the phrase casually bland

But there’s no proper way to understand

Chekhov’s gun pointed in my throat

It used to be my sole source of hope

Now it hunts me like a pack of vampires

The situation is a demon, black eyed and dire

I’ll always keep it, I’m afraid to lose this universe

The thought of freckles is such a blessed curse

On a flimsy canopy, past the bed I’ve made

Please don’t let it fade, please don’t let it fade…

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trigger-happy

coddling a gun

and eating suicide

they’re scared

but fuck it, i’ve never

felt more alive.

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Sleep: Letting Go Of Your Dreams

“There are these terrors, and it’s like, it feels like as if somebody is gripping my…are these terrors, and it’s like, it feels like as if somebody is gripping my throat…not like tremors, worse than tremors, there are these terrors…at night, there are…not like tremors, these are worse than tremors, there are these terrors, and it’s like, it feels like as if somebody was gripping my throat and squeezing…and like as if somebody was grip—”

~*~

Falling asleep…

A faint dream

In an elevator scene

An exploration

A decrepit room

And finally,

A music box song

That seeped

Onto reality…

Turning into

Static and wails;

Hell’s personal melody

Roaring madly

Past my ears

And the nightmare began.

Jolted into limbo

The familiar room

Materialising in front

Of my tired eyes,

But what the hell…?

I cannot sleep,

I cannot wake up,

And I can’t move...

I can’t move.

God help me,

I fucking cannot move—!

An invisible force

Pressing down on me,

Sent crawling chills

Down my skin

With every attempt

Of futile movement,

Dinning noise

Painfully screeching

Against my ears,

A beast has

Taken control of me

And I don’t know

What to do anymore.

Heartbeat panicking

And mind in a frenzy,

I tried to be calm,

To be stupidly rational

With instructions

That came out

Of a 911 operator’s

Mollifying mouth…

Okay, think this out!

You can do this.

Wiggle your toes.

A hallux, a minimus,

Just try it, okay?

There, good!

It’s working now…

Just try to move,

An arm, a leg,

A muscle, anything

At all, and then

Wait for it to spread

Across your body…

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

It doesn’t work.

I’m stuck.

I cannot break away

From the demon

That pins me

Within its claws

Rendering me

Immobile,

And screams

Triumphantly loud

In banshee roars

Deafening me

Of common sense.

I’m. Fucking. Trapped.

So what now?

Helpless as I’m

Paralysed, frozen

In a foetal position

Half conscious,

Half unconscious

Lying in my bed,

Unable to move

Or shout for help,

I give up

I’m reduced to

Waiting for it

To simply end;

Waiting for the

Monster to be sick

Of such games,

Waiting for reality

To take me back

And wake me up,

Waiting anxiously

For that final

Sweet release…

But will it even come?

~*~

“…Sometimes I see flames. And sometimes I see people that I love dying and…it’s always…and I can’t…I can’t ever wake up.”

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Fear in the Heart of the Beast

It’s senseless, isn’t it?

Chasing stars like this. A malevolent race of blood and starlight, dust and galaxy, radiance amid vespertine. The vulnerabilities I partake with reproachful glances and consternated sighs, as another concatenation languishes itself woefully from my tremulous velvet palms. All the unnecessary perplexities. Chatoyant winks. Recrudescent idiosyncrasies. Pyrrhic viciousness. It’s almost maddening, like pulling at a switch to turn on the dark. The desuetude of prayer, the imbrication of penitence against sin, the self-sustaining cycles of ultracrepidarianism against the gallimaufry voices, ridden with febricula and rallying beyond this pannychis, begging to be heard. Yet my solitary garrison quavers none, and left to my own devices, I arm myself against those shots in the midnight, forays into forests of violent crimes, heart hammering against my Adam’s apple so harshly that I am confident I may simply poke my tongue out and watch its scarlet palate throb. The fear, the intensity, the asperity of it all, finally taking its toll on me before I waned away my lurid admonition; my enemy was not those who wish me dead at their skins, it is I and this foolish quavering soul. The paroxysms of resentment and infinitesimal blinks and twitches of arrogant pain jolting through my spinal fluid, kneecaps shattering and popliteal sweating as I kneel forcibly, succumbing indignation and surrendering both hands to the efficacious reign of the nightmare, derisive silhouette shifting only ever smugly in its carved skeletal throne, positioned rightly upon a bejewelled vestibule. The requiem wails its bereft knell. One by one, the myriad astrology coruscates into wretched dimness. The universe has gone out. Only nonexistence, spilling with emptiness and triumphant in its ironic vitality, remains to be seen. The nightmare sneers. Too late.

And, at the very destruction and devastation of both my tantamount solidarity as well as the fabric of reality, at the amusing otiosity of it all, at the grandest scheme of this laughable redundancy, I can only wonder with a morbid rickety grin, unto what end shall it all lie?

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Filed under Prose

☆ me ★

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

i never cared much

for a mirror.

frivolous and vanity

and terror

at what you might

see there

like ghosts or parallel

to give scares

but what chills me

personally is

not the monsters or

distort oddity

it’s if i looked into a

mirror and

don’t fancy what i see

and it’s not

a spectre, but simply

just me.

♫•*¨*•.¸¸♪

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Filed under Poetry, Southern Constellations