Tag Archives: self

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?

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Filed under Poetry

Welcome To The Real World

Your dreams, they slowly fade
So uncommitted and it’s such a waste
You’re left alone and afraid
Now just confine your problems and
Figure out your own way to solve them...

~*~

Useless kid

With the useless mind

Your petty little art

Is as useless, you’ll find

You’ll never make it out there

With your cloudy dreams

Get in line like everyone else

Into their soul-sucking machines

.

Useless kid

With the useless mind

Your foolish little hobbies

Will fall into the grind

So let them go as you give in

To the travesty of worshipping green

Useless kid, why don’t you just grow up?

No one wants another screwup.

~*~

You can’t get back what you’ve lost
Your conscious is slowly fading away
Go face the path you’ve paved
I watched your dreams die
They fell in front of your eyes…

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Filed under Poetry

ungrateful

there are so many

pretty things in

front of me

why do i still view

the ugly truth?

.

is it because

i know there will be

nothing more

or what i’ll have is

more than used?

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Filed under Poetry

The Amputee

Wonder why I wake up living in a made-up
Dream of you and I, together there
Baby, wake the fuck up
Time for you to grow up
Don’t you know that life is rarely ever fair?

~*~

now i should cease

with my attempted wars

involuntary romance

could only get me so far

.

i’ll cross black holes

for the simple soul i adore

they won’t recognise

such a dark helpless horror

.

pulled back and forth

maybe i’m a piece of string

pirouette me overhead

perhaps you’ll hear me sing

.

it was never their fault

i’m aware i have fallen victim

to the hell of taking light

as the other is still rekindling

.

now i should stop myself

while control’s on my fingertips

an accidental devotion will

only make me lose all my limbs.

~*~

Ice cold, baby, I’m ice cold
You’re the only one who could make me fold
I wouldn’t ask you to take care of me
Oh, I wouldn’t ask you to take care of me…

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Filed under Poetry

mad now, like i was before

it’s in my head

cracking like gold

beaten-down

submissive lie

increase tenfold

not mine, not mine

self-respect the

problem i lack

the saccharine

you quietly have but

please not pleased

did you find out

can i get a place?

probably not

it’s too good for me

truth spelling out

a kind of agony that

i don’t enjoy but

i guess we can see

the things that i said

it will never be me

i’d rather be you

you’d rather be dead

so fucked-up and sold

you’re in my head

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Filed under Poetry

vertigine

i feel feverish

disoriented

like the world’s

about to give way

underneath me

and there’s nothing

else i could do

but lie on my bed

and just wait for it to

finally happen.

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Filed under Poetry

Smother

Roam the vestibules

And find a safe space

To lose your affinity

Cast off the tight haze

.

Reminders of grim past

Of that person you were

Crushed in agony’s hold

But so blissfully unaware

.

There’s far too many traitors

In a world ever-unmending

There’s no need for you to be

Another parasitic festering

.

So just lose the tinted glasses

You won’t need them to see

And simply keep your distance

As all things should really be.

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Filed under Poetry

Co-in-cide


“There’s no question
You’re the answer
I will find you.”


coincidences, that’s all they are. small, meaningless, stupid fucking coincidences. whatever you do, don’t overthink about it. don’t let it get to your head. and don’t you dare drag me down with you.

okay, listen up. fool me once, shame on me. fool me twice, and on the exact same instance? no way. something’s going awry here, and you have got to admit it. deep down inside, where you repress all the crazy things you hate to believe but still quietly cling onto, you know. you just do. it wouldn’t totally mess you up like this if you don’t. don’t you?

no, i don’t. not at all. and don’t act like a subversive condescending prick and proclaim that you do, somehow. the entire universe literally doesn’t give a shit about you, idiot. nor will it to anyone and anything else. so stop pretending that it’s something more grandiose and consequential beyond what it actually is—absolutely nothing—and leave it out of your life, goddamn it. and don’t try to convince me otherwise with all your tinfoil hat conspiracies. you’re better than this. at least, you really should be, anyway.

but what if it is? does it hurt to believe in the impossible, even for just a second? would it kill you just to be a little less empty than you already are? why? why not? what if?

what if, huh.

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Filed under Prose

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

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Filed under Poetry

Mirage

Alright. Alright.

Let’s keep it simple. Let’s dissolve the convoluted hyperboles with a dose of sedating fentanyl and simply look the problem straight in its eyes.

Blue.

Not just pastel or skylight or marine or brilliant or midnight or cobalt or baby blue, no. But the kind of blue that makes any other shade of blue look lifelessly grey. The kind of blue you left me with watery gazes and sinkholes, when you left your thoughts to fester unstoppably in mine. The very kind of blue I never thought I’d hate to love.

Until now.

Sometimes, it faintly tastes of the tranquil oceanic breeze, and I could rest easy by the lonely bayside as I let my wandering thoughts ponder cautiously. Tiptoes clumsily traipsing against curious hope and lukewarm sand, fallen horizons blushing a pallid sunset orange, caught smiling unaware whenever I chance upon the nuanced way you adored every delicate brushstroke on the canvas I painstakingly laid out for you; an artist cursed to draw the same portrait forever.

Sweet. Bitter. Nothing.

Sometimes, it’s destructive blizzards all at once; mental violence haphazardly spitting ammunition directly into my targeted chest, turning me into a tattered tapestry of miserable fury—barely fit to be called human. My mind wails and shrieks as it rakes its bladed nails down my spine, coming undone at the uncontrollable paranoia that the very same paintings which brought your attention to my existence would now cause you to draw loathing deep into my skin; an artist blessed to despise their own creations forever.

Tantrums. Bloody. Everything.

My convictions are constantly wavering, my tessellated identity shattering into stagnant fractals if I even so much shed a sliver of you off of my armour, and the overgrown thorns that once quietly infected my lungs sting a whole lot worse when I try to pull them out. So I lie between my gritted chemical teeth and pretend it’s for the best, but no amount of feigned reassurance will ever quell the tormented pangs writhing inside of me, wrenching badly-stitched arteries apart again and crushing my fragile bones to silver dust. Irreparable.

Useless. Helpless. Hopeless.

And still, that blue—god, that damned kind of blue—so vividly engraved behind my closed eyelids like a restless epitaph. Keeping me wide awake and screaming silently in the cramped jail cell I call my home as it softly lulls me off into perpetual sleep. Far away from the echoes of the observable universe, and everyone else, and nothing else. Your inimitable shade of blue.

The kind I hate I love.

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Filed under Prose