Tag Archives: trash

Cutting It Out

When I look in the mirror 
I know not who I see 
It’s hopeless, I’m hopeless 
But I’m not sorry for what that I’ve done
They had it coming, we all die someday
I do what the voices tell me to do…


I want to cut myself open

And come back inside

The recesses of my bones

Broken and pathetic tonight

I want to slit my smile

From my ear to my throat

And I’ll choke myself to sleep

Drunk on blood and bloat

I want to scar myself absurd

Hanging on to every word

That I wrote all over my hands

I don’t even understand

I want to be bruised or bitten

Torn apart and be smitten

By the throes that keep me up

They never want me to stop

I want to cut myself to shreds

Crawl back inside my cesspool head

I don’t want a body that betrays me

In a life that doesn’t even want to take me.


It’s always easier to kill 
When you’re already dead inside
Lock me up ’cause I’ve lost my fucking mind
Rock back and forth, it kills me, it thrills me
Rock back and forth, to see you dead…


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Seeing Red

I thought I could.

I really thought I could.

But I can’t. I can’t.

And the worst part is:

This doesn’t even

Fucking hurt me anymore.

I have nothing else to do.

I have nowhere else to be.

Guess I couldn’t.

Guess I’ll fucking never.

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the art of art

i am you

i’ll play a tune

to sing of sunny haze

and cloudy gloom


you are me

you’ll write a sonnet

to speak of fireflies

and underground moments


i am me

i’ll paint a picasso

depicting stained hearts

and abstracted souls


you are you

you’ll orate a speech

declaiming of eloquence

and casual vernacular street


we are we

and we will forever be

immoralised from art to poetry

faded all the way to infinity.


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submerge me

under crystalline depths

i’m taking on

these liquid-laden breaths

haunted by the

cold bite of the coastal air

and i’m hanging

by the sand, shorn away bare

while my body is

pulled under the stygian grave

of chasmic serenity—

returning again like a tidal wave

choking on water

and the breeze becomes critical

i’m falling away

elastic flesh numb and insensible

i will sink down

before i can move myself to swim

please let me drown

water in my lungs, death in my sins.


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Halo Blue

Systematic shutdown, and one by one my optimism closes

You pulled the plug on the starlight that keeps me awake

I may not be in my melting point, but I’m still a hot-lead mess

I think I’d rather stay dead than to keep my tongue fake


There’s nothing else I would feel if not for our blue hair bet

But mine is deep ocean dark, yours is a bubblegum ice cream hue

Even if we blended together, we can’t ever be a scarlet sunset

Does that mean we should just stop trying? I say it’s all up to you


I’m usually full of shit, but I like you and I don’t like anyone, hey

You’re one of my favourite few, and if I were well-versed, I could say

That my eyes are only four glimpses away from reaching your sun

But I’m not, so I guess all I can say is a cliche point-blank ‘you’re fun’


Fine, it’s not all about me and my sadness, but I don’t have to care

I’ve been withholding my cries for help ever since I discovered it was there

I might not be cool enough for your cult, but I wanna join the club

Of the haters asking for another lobotomy and demented idiots equally in love


With this systematic shutdown’s taking over, one by one my cynicism closes

And you pulled out the wires and circuits to turn off the stars that burned into my sleep

I don’t think I’m thinking straight from thinking about your thoughts all the time

But I would rather stay down than to keep lying to myself about what I can take and keep.


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fire escape

a quiet blue burn

in the spaces of my palms

taking me within

keeping my numb mind warm


a quiet blue burn

leaving blisters on my arms

it doesn’t hurt at all

it only drags out colder harm.


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Talk It Out

You got two black eyes from loving too hard
And a black car that matches your blackest soul
I wouldn’t change you, oh, oh
Wouldn’t ever try to make you leave, no…


You don’t need my puerile mouth to bleed

So delete me from your life and never look back

I’m just another all-assuming, time-consuming need

Ad-libbing in your face like bum bum, sad fuck

And I get it, I swear to hell, I really do get it

You don’t deserve qualms, and I don’t deserve shit

Making stories, faking memories, did that really happen?

I would try to remember, but I wasn’t there then

So go on and hold the sharp grudge against my throat

But please wait your turn to capsize the sinking boat

Backlash chaos, laughing in mania and apology

Liquid sarcasm tastes as sweet as spoiled royal milk tea

You’ll be the judge bringing the gavel down my head

I’ll be the death sentence man winking once before I’m dead

But guess I don’t need your putrid mouth to bleed

And you’re just another time-assuming, all-consuming greed

Let’s explode one more time and crash in wasted gasoline

Before I delete you from my life and never look back from the murder scene.


The high rise lights read your rights
And a downtown storm with aries rising
Couldn’t change you, oh, oh
Couldn’t ever try to make you see, no…


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The Blondes Are (Not) Alright

Blew motivation I had
To make my still beating-something
Not hurt that bad
Haven’t been home in some months
I haven’t loved myself
Just watching friends online
Look like they need some help…


I brought a knife to a shootout

But I’m not looking for a fistfight

I don’t mean to get too bloody

I just wanted to feel a little alright


But it’s difficult to make amends

When you’re holding the trigger

And kiss the muzzle to my mouth

Before I plead for it to get better


Bang bang bang, do you feel it yet?

Don’t drop that dime to take a bet

If I die now on the pavement curb

I’ll try not to bleed out on your shirt


I brought awkward to the limelight

I hear it’s the latest fashion show

I don’t mean to flaunt my mistakes

I just wanted everyone to know


That it’s hard to feel sorry

When you’re feeling sorry for yourself

They said I’m being crazy

Like condescencion’s good for my health


Clap clap clap, do you feel regret?

Hold on to plastic, it’s not over yet

I’ve got about three more acts to go

And the script makes to take it slow


I brought a friend to a death match

Just to see who’ll take the first move

I don’t mean to make it too chaotic

Just seeing if you would if you could


I never ask about the when, what, or why

I’ve been standing here thinking all was fine

But then the situation changed to see you

Spitting comments on the shoes I just shined


Blah blah blah, will you ready get set?

You’re the best nothing I’ve ever met

Too cool for the beatdown that ensues

Tie my hands to the bomb, I had no clue


I brought sobriety to the late pub nights

And they all told me to get the hell out

You brought the glass to my lips again

And drowned me in self-sustaining doubt


We can laugh about all the memories we hate

Including how this one has an expiration date

Looks like you want some help, damn, just ask

Don’t keep it in and blame other lies in the past


No no no, I didn’t mean to be thinking this loud

I gave you privacy when you told me to fuck off

I guess I’m done with fun, and I’m done, it’s true

But don’t worry honey, at least it’s all about you.


I never wanted to be thinking this loud
I never asked about the when, why or how
I wanted privacy, routine and everything between
While they’re just finding me out
I never wanted to be thinking this loud…


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third time’s the charm (when you’re lying to yourself)

finished finished finished

did my unfulfilling day’s work

afternoon reduced to chains and shackles

dragged like fingernails into the dirt

sweating sweating sweating

baseball caps melting in diligence

and left to suffer insufferably

under the severe heat and silence

aching aching aching

temples snap like rubber bands

not in the mood for smiling

i wish my headache would understand


static static static

music reduced to scatters

dragging deluded spirits further

into abyssal underwater

pacing pacing pacing

the zebra crossing inch by inch

hoping that screeching tires

would run me over like roadkill

waiting waiting waiting

for the tears that never come

frustrated and sedated

feeling betrayed by the sun


tired tired tired

to the very frayed nerves

a day’s worth ticking down the clock

each hour a penitence served

flinching flinching flinching

at the blood that whispers taunts

set me free and let me be

let sharp edges be your miscreant

broken broken broken

by the stress that’s making out

with barbarous depression

and violent-red lies heading south

stop it stop it stop it

but i’m too numb to even protest

i’ll just fall back into a devoid oblivion

and let my weakness take care of the rest.


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Gloom Boys in Natural Blue

I have candy floss over my eyes, and no one can ever take that away from me.

I’m a double dare away from jumping into the clouds and getting lost in heaven, and even though their motionless lips tell me otherwise, imploring that the despondent sun will burn my frail skin and my charred cape will drag me back down into the ground, I’ll simply fly over them and defy what it means to be human.

For being an angel is not made of mere matchsticks and febriculic feathers, rather, it is the catastrophic sensation of breathing in your existence from your lungs and never letting it go, holding your oxygen in so tight that your chest will hurt, and tasting the very molecule that the wind is built up of, all before exhaling heavily and letting others share the light that passed the very chambers of your symphonic heart, and inhaling that decadent love once more like it’s the only sugar high you need.

I’ll be dancing a hundred footsteps as I reverently play the halo’s mellifluous beat around my head over and over again, but I shall never get tired of laughing and listening, and the glow never fades, the glow never coalesces into a darker retrospect of aspirations and bad habits, the glow is etched at the very back of my confounded head and if I close my eyes and wish a little softer, I can see pastel whispers floating and resonating behind my dreams, smiling quietly as it tells me fairy stories about twill reveries and acrylic oneirism.

Will you tell me that much? Will you beg in blazing yellow and speak in purple hand grenades, waking up again when the water parks detonate and soothing water splashes everywhere? This is not my gloomy lullaby meant to be kept under hushed tones and clandestine affinities, buried under the bones of ‘92, rather it is an everlasting caprice that is meant to be jubilantly shouted from the rooftops, until the nightingales and mynas and bluejays and hummingbirds mimic the colours in my eyes and echoes back a chromatic rainbow to be chased.

Am I not making any sense, or is the semblance of my self-optimistic throes withdrawing like violent ocean waves? It is not their fault, and it certainly isn’t mine. It’s yours. It’s all yours. This nonsensical tirade making me backlash the usual defamation that is my wretched soul, making me passionate for what used to be desert sand and black light, now efflorescent flowerbeds and ultraviolet ecstasy, making me smile and laugh childishly at the most fickle of things like a madman staring limerently into the cornflower moon. You let a playful cyclone into my bedroom while I was sleeping, and it ravaged my closet and spun me all the way to your window until I was sickly dizzy, and you held your hand out to steady me and pulled me in, winking cheekily at the cyclone and returning its breezy grin before waving it goodbye.

Now that I’m here, will you promise to keep me? Airplane conversations and clustered entertainment isn’t enough to leave me amused. Are you laughing at my sadness yet? Are you performing odes along to me mournfully singing about the underhanded depression that makes me mad all the time and fucks my worried flurried mind up when the night is young and makes me go down the long road home? I’m a car crash that you can’t ever look away from, and I can’t ever look away from you. But don’t follow me to the site of the wreck. If your favourite set of stairs is the one up to my room, piece together the trail of love notes I left in the kitchen that say it all, and when you find me, I won’t ever have to let you go up. Let’s be lucky people, you and me.

Amid tantrums and crybabies, you’re nothing but rare. I may not be a warrior and you may think I’m the worst, but I know I don’t have to sleep alone again. So won’t you stay awake, stay awake for me? If you’re singing about la-la-la-love, my tune is more to the beat of a la-la-la-lobotomy. You’re my yellow lovely jealousy, in natural blue and viridian green memories, I’m losing my mood in a late night phone call, shading everything else from silver to pink to hiding under porches and craving territorial phantasms, it doesn’t matter. My common sense is powerless when you speak, and I’m not royal but I’m stupid for you, and 11:11 can go away because I don’t wish for anything else. I’m tired. You’re tired. Let’s be tired together. It’s more fun that way, don’t you think?

I have gloomy clouds over my eyes, and only you can ever take that away from me.


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