Tag Archives: trash

on the subject of side glances leading to an unexpected intuition…

the petty assumptions

will do you no good

your mind’s still a mess

leave it as you should

he says it’s mental

that’s right for a change

the thoughts you can’t feel

but you could explain

there’s already one

why are you still looking?

hope has a cost, and

you’ll pay for the broken

so prove yourself wrong now

he doesn’t know yet

but don’t leave all that out, and

dare to find out and forget.

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On the subject of birthdays…

I honestly would post something more profound and broodingly thoughtful and—heaven forbid—perhaps even more enlightening before this day finally ends, but apparently this is the only thing I could manage to write for today. And aptly so, I suppose. So I’ll just be casually leaving this here and calling it a night. Happy another year of somehow still existing to me. 🎉

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20.5 – arrow (pt. 2)

ii.) shaft

dear friend on the other side of the planet,

you make me laugh a lot, you know? it’s rather silly, but i just love your little shenanigans. the way our elated screams always intertwine together in a dissonant enthusiasm, the way we never hesitate to send our artworks and writings; trusting each other with quiet glimpses of our whimsical souls, the way you send the crazy pictures of you without any second thought—even though i’m too insecure and afraid to do the same—and the stupid way we try to bascially hurt each other with the most adorable band photos we could possibly find, relentlessly warring it out with no surrender to the end.

all of this probably wouldn’t make sense to any sane person. but that doesn’t matter, just as long as it doesn’t make sense to us either. it’s funny and i don’t think it’s ever going to get old. mostly, we just sling our constant admirations and strange motivations about and try to volleyball-pass them back straight to each other’s faces; as if trying to outdo the other one in a compliment contest—which, again, no one really wins anyway. thankfully for us.

it’s about 3 a.m. as i write this, while i’m simultaneously sending another dumb gif that’s sure to blow your fragile heart out, and my exhausted body is on the verge of imminent collapse; yet i can’t help but hang around for just a tad while longer to retaliate with another cute face one more time. i sure as hell won’t be running short of those anytime soon, and believe me, i won’t rest until i get the last word—quite literally. so be afraid, be very a f r a i d…

i know you’ll most likely never read this, but hey, all the same, thanks for those quiet moments of fun and insanity, and for unintentionally kicking me back up whenever i’m at my lowest depths. yeah, thank you for being the patty to my aws, you dumb emo dork. i’ll get you back for making me this weirdly sentimental and also for all those weird hair photos someday, i swear to ali’s eyeliner.

best regards, a sleep-deprived pasty-faced lonely swamp kid.

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13 – wait, how do you spell epiphany?

i should

never be

trusted

to act like

an adult

.

i’ll either

overspend

on groceries

or end up

joining a cult.

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12 – smooth talk

i crave for popcorn

and otherworldly diseases

all the very same

.

gorge myself on sweets

and bland medication

all the very same

.

i crave for better tries

and the purest hedonism

i am not to blame

.

’cause no matter what

it just always ends up bad

i am not to blame.

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Dumb Little Distractions

I can’t sleep.

And I don’t want to sleep.

Although dreams are

The best reality I have

Right now, it’s also easier

To delude and distract

Myself thinking that

Time will go by considerably

Slower, if I were to stay

Awake for the entire night,

And come next morning,

I’ll be too desensitised

And too tired to even worry

About the very things that

Plagued me to insomnia—

A perfect irony.

For now, I’ll laugh myself numb.

For now, I’ll sip cold coffee

And gorge myself on sugary

Treats and asinine videos

So that later today,

I could pretend that I’m still alive.

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b.r.a.i.l.l.e.

i am with the wind.

and the exhilarating thrill

envelops every sense,

taking my aching bones,

my hour-old bruises,

my smiling chipped teeth,

my angry brown scabs,

and lulling them back to rest,

making the pain seem like

just another pastel dream.

everyone’s just a myriad blur,

a riot of ceaseless colours

all rushing past me as

wheels bite gravel and spins

me to a whole new revolution

of a different planet in a

different existence where all

those bad memories don’t exist,

only i, and the sweat and rain

soaking the angel wings on

my back; feeling gravity

and friction and momentum

and all those ethereal forces of

the universe ensconced between

my scuffed red sneakers.

it’s all tricks and treats,

and it doesn’t matter if i fall

and eat concrete a thousand times

trying to do the same thing over again;

it doesn’t matter if i go home

always with new holes all over my

favourite jeans and jumpers

every single damn time;

it doesn’t matter if i’m being

chased away by the people who

think it’s a vagrant’s crime…

because the past and future tense

doesn’t matter when freedom

is felt right here, right now,

with me and my ride,

and i am the wind.

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Aggravate

It’s a wink

It’s a smile

It’s a tribute

It’s defiled

It’s an insult

It’s the lie

It’s who wants

To even die

It’s a stone

And a bruise

One got hit

And they lose

It’s a doubt

It’s cold flame

For a kid up in

A wrong game

It’s a smirk

It’s a grin

It’s the fun

For who wins

It’s a sinner

It’s a cynic

It’s too funny

Now, isn’t it?

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You’re All Phases And Dark Sides Like The Moon, But You’re Not As Bright (I Would Turn This Into An Extended Play But My Band Hates Me, I Have Mediocre Musical Talent, And No Record Label To Beg)



Phase One: I Don’t Know About You But I’m Ready To Move To San Diego(‘s Disneyland© Theme Park and Resort)

[EXTRACT: WE DO IT IN THE DARK WITH SMILES ON OUR FACES
WE’RE DROPPED AND WELL-CONCEALED IN SECRET PLACES
W E  D O N ‘ T  F I G H T  F A I R]

To all the divorcees in the dancefloor

Singing songs for poor dumped hearts

Won’t you come and take a million pictures

Of my latest 100 billboard-hit chart?

I’m not famous, but I’m on your magazine

Load up the ammunition baby, take it in

The articles say that I’ll save your life

But all I’ll do is steal your brain-bored wife

So I don’t give a shit about your ideal weekends

But buy my merch, I’ll be your best friend

And don’t pretend you’ll just forget about me

When I’m bitching about how everything’s a travesty…



Phase Two: She’s Got A 10 PM Audition Starring At The Back of A Costco Store

[EXTRACT: I’LL KEEP YOU WARM AND WON’T ASK WHERE YOU’VE BEEN
WITH YOUR BACKLESS BACK DRESS SOAKED TO THE SKIN
W H E N  A L L ‘ S  S A I D  A N D  D O N E  T H E Y ‘ R E  S C R A M B L I N G]

West coast smokers choking to death

And a trashy nosebleed is good for the health

Kiss it hard in the back alley like a desperate man

Blow out your sixteen candles with a gun

(and paint the town an ugly shade of party-red)

.

You’re all grown up and ready to waste a week

Looking for a dive bar to drown shots cheap

But the boys never liked you, Mr. Barman

Now won’t you sleep this out again with no one?

(the insults are only as bad as good guys get)

.

I swear I won’t swear, my mouth is clean

I go to church on Sundays and I’m never mean

I swear I won’t swear, I know that it’s all true

Your secrets are all worthless but at least I’ve got you—

(completely wrapped around my finger)



Phase Three: Warm Sympathy Is Just Cold Sarcasm For Wimps

[EXTRACT: I KNOW YOU’VE HEARD ALL THIS BEFORE
LET’S HEAR IT FOR AMERICA’S SWEETHEARTS
I  M U S T  C O N F E S S ,  I ‘ M  I N  L O V E  W I T H  M Y  O W N  S I N S]

I don’t love you at all but I love your therapy

You talk like you’re going deaf, so won’t you lie to me?

.

If it’s not about comforting then I wouldn’t even care

You look even messier today, did you do something with your hair?

.

I said I’d write a million poems about you but I got carpal tunnel

Just like how you said you’d give me a taste of first-class hell

.

We both smiled like a girl’s best friends, only it’s all fake

And we didn’t believe we could mine such coal-black mistakes

.

I don’t love you at all but you scare the devil out of me

But I wouldn’t call you an angel, don’t you just love my honesty?



Phase Four: Children’s Nursery Rhymes Are Really Letting Themselves Go These Days

[EXTRACT: MY SONGS KNOW
WHAT YOU DID IN THE D A R K
S O  L I G H T  ‘ E M  U P]

I ‘ l l  S T U M P  y o u ,  I ’ l l  S T U M P  y o u

I ’ m  a m a z i n g  w i t h  i d i o t ’ s  s y n c r a s i e s

I ’ l l  s T u M p  y o u ,  I ’ l l  S t U m P  y o u

I ’ m  a m a z i n g  i f  y o u ’ l l  a s k  m e  t o  b e

I ’ l l  s t u m p  y o u ,  u o y  p m u t s  l l ‘ I

M y  n a m e ’ s  n o t  P a t r i c k  b u t  b a b e ,  I ’ m  a  s t a r

B u t  i f  y o u  t h i n k  t h a t  t h i s  j o k e ’ s  g o i n g  t o o  f a r

T h e n  I ’ l l  d u m p  y o u ,  I ’ l l  D U M P  y o u .



Phase Five: If My Brain Could Actually Think For Itself, What Would It Say?

[EXTRACT: IF I COULD GET MY SHIT TOGETHER
I WANNA RUN AWAY AND NEVER SEE ANY OF YOU AGAIN
N E V E R  S E E  A N Y  O F  Y O U  A G A I N]

I’m

                    too

fucking

                             tired

           for

                                               all

       this

                                                                 bullshit.

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wraithed

i love how

you think that

you’re okay

because of a

few struggles

against tidal waves

i love how you

feel that you are

what matters most

when all you are

is just another

self-centered ghost.

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Filed under Poetry