Nervous Wreck

You’ve got a lot of nerve

At the tip of your tongue

When you were the one

Who made me feel sorry

I was still even breathing,

The one who made all my

Dreams feel secondhand

And just a cheap thrill drug,

The one who made it seem

Like underground reposing

Was the only option for you.

.

You’ve got a lot of nerve

On your mouth, and none

On the organ past your ribs—

But that’s alright, because I

Lost mine when you twisted

It into a noose and made my

Cold throat feel numbed-out.

That’s alright if you want to

Murder trust and then act like

You’re the fucking victim here

Just don’t drag me down again—

You could do that for yourself.

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Let’s Talk About Not Talking About It

Well I’m sick of it, over it, however you want it said
I’m telling it straight ’cause it might be the only chance I get
Just shut up, just shut up, would you stop telling me who I am?
I’m sick of it, over it, however you want it said…

~*~

Some people find it really easy to write about themselves.

I respect them for that. For being able to express innermost thoughts and more private sentiments in articulate ways, and for having that certain imbued capability in their writings where other people could read their catharsis and be able to feel all their emotions, sympathise with their plights, and look at the world in another perspective, in their own personal perspective. Of course, even if they can’t exactly relate to whatever situation that person is caught up in, they could still nod their head understandingly, dole out some hopeful dime-a-dozen platitudes, and perhaps even offer some needed advice to them, just as normal human beings should.

Whenever I attempt to write about myself, my life, or my current feelings, I tend to drown it in cryptic nuances and fuck-all metaphors that are so incredibly twisted to the point where even I don’t find any sense in it anymore. That’s why I’m more adept with poetry than prose, and why I find music to be the most therapeutic outlet for myself, above anything else. And also why I hate the shit out of essays and formal writing so much. But in the rarest blue-moon times when I try to abandon that sort of familiar style and write something that’s concise and straight to the point, in simple words that are the closest to the truth, it always makes me so disgusted with myself because I always sound like I’m whining too much and making such a big deal out of nothing. And even then, I couldn’t help but add way too much labyrinthine sentences and complicated head-scratching quips to sugarcoat the naked ugliness of it all. Case in point, this very write-up itself. Sweet irony to further press the point.

I’ve always found it difficult to talk about myself. I don’t know exactly what what happened to me that made me turn out to be this way, but whenever I try to open up, a million desperate hands pull me back inside as a thousand alarm bells seem to scream and flash red lights inside my head, all of these, all at once, giving me a major dose of anxiety that takes a long while to wear off. I never know how to be completely honest without feeling awkwardly uncomfortable, and vice versa, it’s a great struggle for me when people start getting too real and personal with me. I tend to be a very secretive person, and I’m not a great support to come running to when you got problems and need to talk it out, because I’ll probably just intensify the headache that you already have and turn it into a full-blown migraine. Trust me, some of what-unsurprisingly-scant friends I have can testify for that fact in front of a court jury with both their hands on the bible.

(But on the plus side, being a secretive person also means that I’m basically Fort Knox when it comes to keeping the secrets of other people, so…redemption??)

I try my very best to be comforting and truthful when times call for it, but somehow, I could never completely shake off that vague feeling of uncertainty, that constant nagging voice at the very back of my mind that tells me that I’m doing something wrong, or tells me that I’m not doing enough, or tells me that I’m fucking overcompensating, or whatever stupid made-up issues it has with my attempt to act like a decent human being. I’ve always just found it easier to repress everything, every difficulty and emotion that’s going on in my overwhelmed mind, to simply keep it all to myself no matter how dire it is, rather than to bother anyone else with it, and I’ve always found it easier to keep people at a ten-foot pole’s length with acerbic witticism and sarcastic dismissals, because when they get too close, someone would always get hurt, and it always ends in a devastating fallout.

To put it shortly, I don’t know how to be empathetic. And I don’t know how to make people empathise with me. Up to now, I’ve always convinced myself that it was my biggest strength.

But perhaps…it just might be my greatest weakness.

~*~

I know I have issues
But I don’t need to hear it coming from you
It’s something that I’ll work through
The beating of my heart’s not stopping anytime soon
It’s not stopping anytime soon…

q & a

i couldn’t

answer you

truthfully

even if i tried

because i

know it’s easier

for you if i

simply told a lie.

Pantomime

Borderline drowning in these messy thoughts
I’ll come down once I get some more
This substance got a hold on me, I’m insecure
I’m hearing voices, what the fuck’s that sound?
I’m going through problems I shouldn’t talk about…

~*~

I put myself in someone else’s heart

And it didn’t beat, no, it didn’t beat at all

My soul’s uncomfortable from twisting

And turning, trying to fit in the desperate crawl

The insecurities taste as heavy as substances

Making my open veins cough up less blood

I just don’t believe in myself as much as I should

And doubts weigh me down when I’ve had

A step away from my eyes and into empty shoes

Which squeaked when I wore them, the laces loose

And the soles were worn down from these miles of walking

I may have gone the distance but I didn’t do the talking

I’m no longer genuine, just as diamonds are always fake

Covering up for my mortalities with graver mistakes

And pretending I wasn’t me, for once I don’t know

What the parts of my anatomy were, how everything goes

The self-hatred whispers things I don’t want to have thought

And my mama tells me I’ve always been what I’m not

Head a mess, anxiety regaled in fanfare intuition

They say life’s not fair without a taste of contradiction

But I’m just trying to regain what I once lost with my pen

Discover all the stories I missed making amends again

I put myself in someone else’s heart, and it didn’t beat at all

But mine only started to breathe when I let myself answer the call.

~*~

I’m not comfortable
No, I just can’t seem to feel at all
I’m not comfortable
So, I’ll take another pharmaceutical
‘Cause I’m uncomfortable…

Space, Silence, Senseless

Sometimes quiet is violent, I find it hard to hide it
My pride is no longer inside, it’s on my sleeve
My skin will scream, reminding me of
Who I killed inside my dream
I hate this car that I’m driving, there’s no hiding for me
I’m forced to deal with what I feel
There is no distraction to mask what is real…

~*~

The reason I talk to myself is because nobody else wants to listen

And sometimes I think that I’m actually less dysfunctional than I believe

But the pendulum swings, and wounds are strung through again

I take more and more of what I wanted, until I’m less than I can give

.

My suffocated mind is deflated from breathing too much

When I’m sitting in a room and bad news becomes too painful to watch

Time and time again I flip through a hundred channels of static

Ignoring the noise in my upstairs and the racket in the attic

.

It’s all I can do to gape in silence as my life plays out before me

I must admit, while it’s engrossing, it makes for some bad TV

There are too many mistakes that are never dealt with in the end

And the climax is so boring, and the gory violence breaks and bends

.

So when all the distractions are played out and predicated

When all the music’s been heard and all the books have been read

When the computer fries its system and even the telly fizzles

And I’ve got nothing else to hide behind but my own personal hell

.

All the voices riot and demand, and they throw sharp rocks in my skull

They scream for mercy, or justice, or change, and remind me of my past wars

So I switch off the television headache, and I cower behind my bed instead

I wish I didn’t have to stay awake only to end up sleeping to kill my head.

~*~

I ponder of something great
My lungs will fill and then deflate
They fill with fire, exhale desire
I know it’s dire, my time today
I have these thoughts so often I ought
To replace that slot with what I once bought
‘Cause somebody stole my car radio
And now I just sit in silence.

Would You Turn Me On?

You took what you wanted
You got it, you know it
I’m haunted by everything that you gave me
You made me, you broke me, you saved me
I’m crazy, but I’m not done…

~*~

It doesn’t make sense to breathe

When the air is dry and stuffy

Hit my head against the bed when

You said you will never give me

What I want is what you need

So I spend my days counting greed

Breaking my backbone just to fix

Your hurtful words in fragile sticks

So if I’m right, then just blame me

And if I’m wrong, turn to punishment

But if there’s another chance for you

To forgive, I won’t hold confident

Because it doesn’t make sense to leave

When I’ve got nowhere else to go freely

Hit the road when all you have said

Are promises you could never give me.

~*~

So when you gonna give it up?
You’re giving me such a rush…
Just another pretty face
But I want one more taste…

here for nothing

Watching as the fire starts
I could be here all night
Never really wanted much
Only ever asked for flight
It could be you…

~*~

i have

no desire

to read

into your

messy mind

as if there

was anything

i would find

taking turns

at insults

like our

hurtful words

don’t mean

a thing

like it was

just another

bee sting

i’ll be okay

i have gravity

to keep my

heart right

where it

should be

but your ribs

are broken

and ransacked

yet don’t you

even see?

i have no

intention to

watch as you

trip again over

your own

callous tongue

but i have

to admit, it’s

actually

kind of fun.

~*~

And I could be fire
And I could be rain
And I could be caught in
Everything that’s in between…

Money For The Honey, Honey For The Money

You workin’ in bars, ridin’ in cars
Never gonna give it for free
Your apartment with a view on the finest avenue
Lookin’ at your beat on the street
You’re always pushin’, shovin’, satisfied with nothing
You bitch, you must be gettin’ old…

~*~

Hear it talk, money’s got mouth, and baby it’s damn dirty

Got the million dollar tongue moving up and down to serve me

Drop the nickel down the drain, don’ worry, I’ll make it rain

Get your kicks at the bottomline and squeeze me ’til I’m drained

.

I may have a silver mansion, but you’ve got them golden fingers

Expensive aftershave may stick for a while, but cheap perfume lingers

What would you do for a taste of the good life, a for bite of luxury?

Before you get to the forbidden apple, you gotta climb the tree

.

Business is goin’ slow but we’ll spend our time in lucrative ways

If I’m already standing at the finish line, then sweetheart it ain’t a race

I’ll buy you everything you want if you sell me the one thing I need

I swear it’s a fair trade, a hint of sweet is enough to staunch the greed

.

This aristocrat has got lands to rule, but I only need your territory

Let me conquer the unknown, tame the savage, satisfy my curiosity

I’m not payin’ to see the show, I’m payin’ to have it made and built

A smile and a signed contract, and I’m yours, and so is the wealth

.

It’s a bit of a cheapshot, I know, but it’s rather rich, coming from me

‘Cause I already have a sturdy shelf, and all I’m missing is a shiny trophy

But oh no no, we don’t gotta shake hands, only bodies to seal the deal

What d’you do for money, honey? Let’s sell out free dignity for valuable thrills.

~*~

So stop your life on the road
All your diggin’ for gold
You make me wonder
Yes I wonder, I wonder
Honey, what do you do for money
Honey, what do you do for money
Where do you get your kicks?

The Wrong Setting

I feel it everyday, it’s all the same
It brings me down but I’m the one to blame
I’ve tried everything to get away
So here I go again, chasing you down again
Why do I do this? Over and over…

~*~

I’m depressed diagnostical

Five seconds away from detonating

Can’t talk about my problems

Just gotta keep on fucking smiling

.

Don’t feel it’s worth it ‘cause I’m worthless

A waste of space and a waste of pain

So I’ll count all my secrets and my losses

And drive my best friend near insane

.

I can’t sugarcoat my neurotic rants anymore

In sweeter words and fancier metaphors

I used to patch up all the dull grey spares

But I ran out of pastel and neon colours

.

I can’t sleep, so I write, I can’t write, so I sleep

Repeat the cycle until it’s bent off backwards

I can’t do something, and I can’t do nothing

Summer’s just a prolonged heatstroke reward

.

I’m suicidal sensational

In between dying and already dead

But I can’t talk about the same problematic shit

Someone please get me out of my head…

~*~

It feels like everyday stays the same
It’s dragging me down and I can’t pull away
So here I go again, chasing you down again…

All Mouth and No Talk

I’ll break all my bones

And cash in all my luck

Before I force myself

To go and listen to such a

Condescending fuck.