Tag Archives: try

(lost and) found

why do

i hide you

why do

i even try,

to convince

myself that

what i’m doing

is alright?

.

why did

i lose you

when you’re

just a lie,

and why do

i continue

when i know that

it’s not right?

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Filed under Poetry

delays

the heat is addling

the corners of my eyes

bleeding with tears

that i so madly despise

.

crowds so dense

they all suffocate

as footsteps go on

of weary and late

.

i take a breath

but i can find none

fun was all fun

but now it’s all done

.

i’m stuck and bored

i don’t know why i try

“home sweet home”

has never been such a lie.

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Be Something

Nobody thinks what I think, nobody dreams when they blink
Think things on the brink of blasphemy, I’m my own shrink
Think things are after me, my catastrophe at my kitchen sink
You don’t know what that means because a kitchen sink to you
Is not a kitchen sink to me, okay friend?

~*~

If I were to collapse

On myself and care

About the way I speak

And how I do my hair

Then I wouldn’t be here

Then I wouldn’t be dead

I’ll just be an old memory

At the back of my head

Yes, I want to grow up

But I want to do it my way

So I don’t need any handouts

Of so-and-so’s displays

And I’ll take the challenge

But with no instructions

Leave me to figure out

And trip again until i’m done

Because life is meaningless

All this shit doesn’t matter

So I’ll take my chances

And test the deeper waters

Then if I fail, well just be there

To say that “I told you so”

Even then, I wouldn’t care

Because this I know

At least I tried my very best

And I claimed my stakes

Instead of just simply regretting

That I never made mistakes.

~*~

Are you searching for purpose?
Then write something, yeah it might be worthless
Then paint something then, it might be wordless
Pointless curses, nonsense verses
You’ll see purpose start to surface…

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Filed under Poetry

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.

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Filed under Poetry

Just a Pale Shade of Rosy Vision

And I want you to stop insisting that
I’m not a lost cause ’cause I’ve been through a lot
Really all I’ve got is just to stay pissed off, if it’s alright by you
But hearts are breaking, and wars are raging on
And I have taken my glasses off, you got me nervous
When you’re turning it into a joke…

~*~

I don’t know if I’m going to college. I know what I want to do, but I don’t know if I’ll make it.

Obviously, she says I’m being irrational with my decisions because I’m still hopeful, optimistic, just another manic boy seeing the damned dark world through rose-coloured glasses and floral idealisms, too naive and gullible for my own good, covertly trusting in demons masked with shiny halos.

She should’ve seen me nearly bleeding out in the middle of the night because I was too tired for anything else, because I felt like I wouldn’t be able do do anything more useful with my existence. She should’ve seen me doing it again a week after. And again and again and again. She should’ve seen me giving up.

At this point, these foolish little dreams of mine are all I have. They’re insane, yes, and most likely impossible, but who am I to turn it away? When I’m left with nothing but screaming nightmares, it’s the only thing that’s keeping me at bay, keeping me going on, keeping me alive, because everything and everyone else has given up on me. Including her.

Yes, maybe I can be such a selfish idealist sometimes, that much I acknowledge. But is it so wrong for me to want for more than just a stable job? A cash-grab career? A walking ATM fountain? Is it so wrong for me to want to be happy, or at the very least, be content with what I do, to see, experience, and feel more, to be more than just to be another greased cog in this broken machine they call a society?

Apparently, it is. Stupid child, listen to the adults, because they know more than you ever will, and you’re just setting yourself up for disappointment and failure. Since it’s so dumb of me to be hopeful, then what’s the fucking point of trying? Is being a sad, jaded, and washed-up individual all I have to look forward to in the future? Is it the only standard I should ever set for myself because everyone else ended up doing it? Because she ended up doing it? Because it’s the only sure and rational thing left in this ever-changing and cutthroat world?

If so, then nothing else should matter. Because I don’t want to have to live for it anymore.

~*~

Just let me cry a little bit longer
I ain’t gon’ smile if I don’t want to
Hey, man, we all can’t be like you
I wish we were all rose-coloured too…

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Halo Blue

We tore our phones to shreds
We didn’t answer nothing
To all friends and family, lost or dead
I couldn’t get much sleep
You lost your self in mine
It couldn’t get much worse…

~*~

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.

~*~

I think I’ll die obsessed
Let’s give up fighting back
You don’t need to grip the best
Because we’re lucky people
And you’ll never have to sleep alone…

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Mood Rings

I never have to carefully shape sentences
When I’ve got some words to say
They’re falling from my mouth from the time
That they hit my brain
‘Cause we built a picture made for frames
We live in chemistry away from all the wasted time and taste…

~*~

There’s a reason why I like the pink in your mood

My words hit the ground, but you catch them so we’re good

If time’s running out for me, I’ll be sure to take it slow

I may be high on conflict but on your sights I’m low

.

The amount of space between my smile and eyes are closing in

But frustration and disappearing sense is not a problem

Because if you laugh, then I laugh, and if you cry, then I die

The city’s a slow waltz into the colourful cocktails we have to try

.

I may speak my mind but I talk with my heart

And it only takes one skipping beat to know where to start

I keep falling for everything that wants nothing to do with me

But I’ll keep trying until the blondes stop being pretty

.

I change so quickly, I don’t even know what to think

And your face goes from soft violet to vivid blush like a 90’s trick

I’m the rain that you chase, you’re the lone cloud in May

Our weather’s too erratic and unstable, but I adore it anyway

.

So don’t get me wrong, your fingers may be pointing

But I’ll take them in my hand and yell bang, the bullet’s flying

You’re troubled by the clothes you wear, confused looks good on you

It accentuates the glow in your halo, but you never had a clue

.

I’m asking all the wrong questions, but you still answer them right

And I’m hoping to the moon that you’ll answer the most important one tonight

I’m dirty red, you’re canary yellow, let’s collide together and be orange fire

A hurricane’s sleeping in my bedroom, can I stay over? We can dream until we’re tired.

~*~

My mood’s dictated by our conversations
And if you don’t text I get too frustrated
I want you all to myself this time, t-t-time
Conflicted looks good on me, I’m trying desperately
I want you all to myself this time, t-t-time…

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Places In My Veins

I’ll lower your body down into an open grave 
And let the vultures have their way with you
We’ll take you by surprise and spill your blood like wine
Scarlet stains upon the flesh will end the night…

~*~

There’s a place for my pulse

Somewhere within my wrists

But no matter how hard I try

I can’t figure out where it is

.

I’ll rest my head in a sea of nightmares

And drown looking for a sweeter dream

I’ll marry a liar just to find out the truth

High on the promise, low on self-esteem

.

And the haze is piercing my blacktop heart

Latent vortex swirling in a negative universe

Rotting with the blindness that I call my eyes

Hides the blood of another paralysing curse

.

There’s a place for the vaguer beat of my soul

Somewhere under my skin, between my wrists

But no matter how many deep incisions I make

I simply can’t seem to find it; does it even exist?

~*~

Everything you say rings hollow
But you will tell your stories again and again
Sell your half-truths with a smile
Take and inject it, inject it!

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Funambulist

My dear funambulist

Now traipse, don’t trip

The ropes are wornout

Before we could meet

My dear funambulist

Be careful with steps

The height is greater

Than the shaky rest

My dear funambulist

Your walks be wary

No shudder, stumble

Balance you’ll carry

My dear funambulist

From that other side

We knew we couldn’t

Why did we even try?

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Filed under Poetry

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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Filed under Prose