Tag Archives: sorry

metal & skin (xxx.)

i’m sorry

that i did it

but i’m not

sorry for you

and i don’t

fucking regret

the lies i spit

maybe it’s

all my fault

for wanting to

see something

heal and fix

itself in my life

you don’t need

to understand

and i don’t need

to explain myself

i don’t want help

because this is it

so fucking take

that away from

me too, won’t you?

maybe this time

i’ll resort to using

a sharper knife.

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self-apology

i’m sorry

i’m breaking

i can’t keep

myself together

i’m sorry

for the veins

and all the ties

that i might sever

i’m sorry

that i keep on

throwing out any

attempts to be better

i’m sorry

i’m a fucking mess

and i’m sorry it’ll

stay that way forever.

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the fix

i’m so sorry

i keep failing

and slipping

and breaking

i promise you

that next time

i’ll try to stifle

down the cracks

and pretend better

that i’m repairing.

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The Emptiness

I feel at home with shadows from ghosts of the living
I dance along to melodies as silent choirs sing
I’m sick of always giving when there’s nothing left to lose
That place we’re in is breaking, it’s trying to break me too…

~*~

Another day, another death.

I wake up, empty. Tired to the very bone, despite the fact that I slept for more than ten hours. The bed feels so cosy and comfortable, as rain serenades the windowsill and cold morning air nips at my feet, luring me back into a dull oblivion. As usual, I don’t want to live. I don’t want to get out of my bed and function mechanically, feeling nothing but nothing. But I have obligations. Responsibilities. Projects and procrastinated homework. So I get up sullenly and do what I can. Do what I should. Brace myself through the freezing shower. Dress up, scarf down breakfast, flag down a vehicle, go to school, socialise, do things, and try to make it through another day.

I started the day feeling shitty as usual, but halfway throughout it, things were looking up. I finished my crammed essays. I made some write-ups and started a story that I’ve been raring to write for ages. I got to catch up with my bands. I helped classmates out, actually recited, accomplished my quizzes and seatworks, actively participated in class. I finally got the thing I’ve been excited to receive the entire weekend. I ate great food and hung out and laughed with fine friends. For once, this was an honest to god day where I acted like a proficient human being, where I didn’t act up and was not my usual dysfunctional self. I did everything right.

So why does everything feel so fucking wrong?

I ended the day running halfway to my house, after having a complete breakdown in the middle of the public city and making people have to put up with the wreck that I am, and unnecessarily infecting them with whatever sad fucking irrational bullshit I was going through. I ended up nearly getting ran over by a bus, nearly missing my bus stop, fucking crying on a goddamn bus as guilt and goddamn pain internally ran me over. I ended up lusting for my vices for the millionth time, for a razor and a pill to infest my system, dying to relapse, living to die. I ended up empty, tired, and unfulfilled, the same way I wake up everyday, and the same way I am as I go to sleep.

I thought all this was supposed to make you feel stronger and make you desire for a greater life, not feeling vulnerable and washed out by the sun, sitting in your dark bedroom, anxious and wallowing, curled up in your own contrition and regretting everything, heaving emptily as everything drains the energy out of your existence. In the end, everything, all of it, writing, reading, songs, bands, fandoms, obsessions, friends, love, emotions, momentary bouts of faux happiness and vigilant but futile hope, it’s just mere distractions in the end. All just stupid petty little distractions to make it seem like there’s actually a chance to change. A chance for something better. A fighting chance for me.

But when all those distractions falter and fade away, I’m always left feeling ten, twenty, fifty times more miserable and pathetic than before; flooding at the gaps in my memory, making the permanent patches in my skin ache, intensifying the taste of the fucking bitter sick on my tongue. And I’m sorry. I want to be optimistic. I want to accept those butterfly pastel mantras and keep the faith. I want to keep on keeping on. I want to fight back and achieve something for myself. I want to make people proud, and make those who were thought I’d never be alter their perception. I want to see the glass-half full, not shatter it because I’m disgusted of my own reflection. I want to change. I want to believe.

I never wanted this. But somehow I can’t do jack shit about it. The only change I can see in myself now is that I’ve become more shameless, more degraded, and more screwed up than before. Anxiety, harder-hitting depression, cutting, drugs, invalid pain, panic attacks, mental breakdowns, bad decisions, I am a picture-perfect smorgasbord of everything that should never be put together. And now I don’t even bother hiding it anymore. I’ve given up trying to counter it. I’ve given up. I’ll always be cynical, and I’m screwed in the head and all fucked-up. Life feels like a constantly looming death sentence, and I want to be my own executioner. Nothing changes. Everything stays the same.

And if things went the way they were supposed to be, and I acted properly, did things right, played by the rules for once, and lived a normal, happy, fulfilling day, and the ultimate end of it all is feeling exactly the same as when I do the exact opposite, feeling that same crappy screw-all depression running through my failing system and ruining everything for me, then fuck it, what’s the point of even trying?

Why should I bother looking for something that isn’t even there?

~*~

I built these walls to keep the outside world from me
And I’ll fight to stay in the hell of my own mind
It’s safer on the inside, underneath where
You can’t ever get to me…

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Relapse, Recover

Who am I to think I’m one with this
To devise a life and run with it
Well, I’m running away
Then hear my ties to burden
And this is where I’m from
So when my body fails me
And all my beliefs, taking flight
This is how you’ll remember me…

~*~

These cicatrices are verboten, swear to hell that you will keep them

Crashing the pnuematic mistakes I fall away in again and yet again

Clinical neuropathy and an ugly intruder that never seems to yield

Scavenging my liquor breath and leaving my collapsed lungs killed

.

Drink in the chasms of ocean trust and lose a gold fountain of youth

Impervious to the suffering I averted, prismatic saved stars uncouth

If these knives are a circus show, my veins are the devil’s fairground

I never thought I even had it in my dragged carcass to still be around

.

As you spoke in tongues of sequined runes and automatic hieroglyphs

Of laconic hope, disembodied willow phantoms trailing from your lips

The acolytes ambush in resistant strain and infested in forlorn fervour

You won’t dare let this algae drown, alleged not to be a mere spectator

.

So bury the scars under fading promises and writ oaths in ink-noir blood

Privacy’s always my abraded fallacy, occluded to playing games with God

I swallowed the dynamite and lit a cigarette, let the ashes dance delirious

You altered the fuse inside my burning abdomen, knowing it was insidious

.

I never hoped for a full recovery, but I’m hitching a ride at the next ambulance

If the ritalin ceases to perplex my vertiginous peripheral, I will find my chance

I’m starving for friends and absent sense, the ones I’d die in a lost heartbeat for

And if I ever finish tallying all my infinite debts, I’ll let you know the final score.

~*~

Build me a foundation, not one of perfection
But one of structure and word
My eyes are upright, in constant search
Perfection, a shout unconquerable
Aren’t we all human! Aren’t we all human?

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breaking down

blood and rain

in blocked bathroom stalls

tears and water

a nervous angel’s last calls

blades and beds

numbed-down in narcotics

raw and regrets

jaded of existing semantics

lost and lusting

for tempted taste of demise

scarred and sorry

all these promises were lies.

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shattered

you didn’t

have to be

there to pick

up the pieces

of this mess

you didn’t

have to cut

your unstained

fingers on the

lethal shards

you didn’t

have to be

the witness to

my unmitigated

self-wreckage

you didn’t

have to do

a damn thing,

you didn’t

really have to…

but fuck, you

did it anyways

i’m glad…i’m glad.

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Problem Child

I’m hot, and when I’m not, I’m cold as ice
Get out of my way, just step aside
Or pay the price; what I want, I take
What I don’t I break, and I don’t want you…

~*~

Oh, problem child

You’ll never be worth

The trouble of anything

You cause your ma shame

And your pa’s in his grave

Still truculently screaming

.

Oh, problem child

You’re just another one

Of those wasted offspring

Ma’s beginning to cry again

And pa tells you you’re nothing

But misery and disappointing

.

Oh, problem child

Why do you have to be so

Rebellious and problematic?

Ma tries to teach you manners

As pa rudely hits you with his

Belt for talking back to him

.

Oh, problem child

We ask endlessly, just where

Did we ever go wrong with you?

Ma’s praying for your black soul

As pa tosses your bags scattering

And he’s sending you a’ packing

.

Oh, problem child

“Grow up; your life’s but a sorry mistake

And you will never amount to anything.”

That’s what your ma and pa and all your

Sneering siblings keep saying, and it’s the

Only advice you’re obediently following.

~*~

I’m a problem child
I’m a problem child, yes I am
I’m a problem child
And I’m wild…

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Confected Cycles

A caged throat

Screaming relentless

And fires siege

Tempting syndromes

Agony weeping

In a numbing addiction

Clotting misery

Blood and deathwishes

Sorry little lies

Killing every will to exist

I can’t complain

I know it will always end

Fucked-up like this.

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Blood Insurrection: A Nightmare Recollection

Please, don’t take this out on me
‘Cause you’re the only thing that’s keeping me alive
And I don’t wanna wait for the down-set date
Cause I would rather end it all tonight
And if I mean anything to you
I’m sorry, but I’ve made up my mind!

~*~

Last night, I dreamed of you.

I’m haunted by perpetual visions of your flayed skin, your mutilated flesh hanging off your pallid wrists and chest loosely, bloodshot eyes staring at me in a soundless remorseful discourse. Pieces of sempiternal agony peel off your body in shredded sinews and fall intrinsically on the stained floor, crashing in cascades of reverent disdain and charlatan confessions, colliding with concrete, ringing as loud as midnight bells at a funeral, suspended leaks of scarlet contrasting dramatically with your silver ring. Ivory-washed bones prodded itself from out your mangled shoulder blade in painful angles, compassed spine breaking audibly, and your excruciating anguish reverberated throughout the room, suffocating my lungs. You were broken. Injured, damaged and dilapidated at every possible recourse. Was I wrong to think that you looked goddamn beautiful?

Your sepia eyes seemed to suck me in. They hid invisible anathema, as your lightning-stricken lips spoke fervently of an ancient tale, a dawning disambiguation unlike this damned universe has ever strung together. I was overwhelmed by every calculated idea, every lusted bereavement, every betrayed rumination and endowed sensibility that pierced and tortured that exquisitely-lacerated mind of yours, resplendent writings and rancid words accidentally getting caught in the barbed wires of your entangled sable hair and never making it past the graffitied red brick wall, leaving only tattered pieces of a squandered afterthought fluttering like scrap paper or torn body bags, caught up in fences of rusted mesh, languid and waiting patiently to join the rueful waltz of the stubborn wind. Was it my treacherous mistake to try to put them back together, instead of setting them free?

You were screaming. Your swollen metal throat was rising and falling in explosive intonations of imminent detonation and wasteland reveries, sending chills crawling like aggravated insects down my backbone. It was a disastrous sanctuary, your blessed hell perilous below, while heaven enshrouds above us like a stagnant disorientation. Songs of chronic migraines and reconciling nightmares intertwining elaborately made me beg epileptically for more, yet you never surrendered. Your fluid voice appeared to tangibly cut through me like a raging maelstrom of blades and alcohol, each exiling raindrop lethally sharp, stinging, seething, sedating, the striking precipitation more painful than the last. I am admittedly and ashamedly sinful. I have only myself to atone for my scarred mentality. Was I the renegade soldier who pulled the pin from your heart, fettered like a hand grenade between my merciless fingers?

Your calloused hands were bare and flaccid. They held no mellifluous instruments, only dead air and static asthenia. I desperately reached for them, the way I used to reach for unconscious stars but never quite make it past the horizon, yet my trembling nicotine-stained fingertips barely grazed the soles of your feet. Desire intervened with revulsion. Your liquid touch was rueful and bilious, and it clung to my papyrus skin like abrasive brier thorns on a shorn silk wedding dress. Your suspicious tears rose up in suffocating tendrils of pewter smoke, gasoline fluid flirting with pillars of a ravenous fire, and it burned words into my throat that I wouldn’t dare set loose past my tongue. The perdition was adamant and stern, glaring like a shot arrow past and through the ubiquitous veils, slashing horizontal lines and painting calamities all over my past wounds. I’ve fumbled for faith and I lost it. Is there any chance that these cicatrices would fade into discernible reality…is there any hope at all that I would recover at all?

You. You stood there silently in clashing bouts of disenchantment and contrition, staring at me hollowly, frozen in a resolute resignation, overlooking my ruinous devastation like a dystopian entity. I quailed at your omniscient presence as I huddled in cowardice in a corner, failing taciturnly in a blank stupor, vacillating on the verge of an oncoming breakdown. At that moment, time was evasive and irrelevant. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t try to stop me. You never moved. You didn’t merely murmured a sorrowful apology, your soft whisper barely audible against the clamour of the infuriated voices in my head, each interlaced butterfly letter striking me like a full metal jacket bullet and making me drop the blade out of pure shock at the impact; the one I was holding against my pulse so readily, ready to gnash its teeth through my lifeline. Death was kissing my hand flirtatiously, ready to take me in its graceless romance, yet somehow I still drew away unreasonably. My hurtling world is set on a tectonic plate, and it was set to drift apart in a crash collision, yet I’m unable to form undiscovered islands of a new beginning, for my dissolving pangaea is still arbitrarily constricted and tightly tethered to you, veering around your gravity’s reckless orbit. Your vicious disease is my apostle’s remedy, and your existence is a thread strung around my neck, needle embedded in my heart, keeping me hanging on, but barely. I’m shivering madly at your frigid soul. You’re so far away, you’re virtually a parallel dimension, yet you’re only inches away from my stuttering heartbeat. This is…this is arrogant madness. Don’t…please don’t try to save me. Why…why can’t you simply just let me go?

It is morning. I am not yet awake.

~*~

I’ve been having this dream that we can fly
So darling close your eyes
‘Cause you’re about to miss everything!
About to miss everything…

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