Tag Archives: useless

laggard

uselessness

is not a virtue

nor a talent,

it’s simply just

an honest waste

of one’s time

.

it consumes

the mind and

salivates, just to

watch the drywall

rot and infest

spreading cracks

.

no longer within

the wall, but already

inside one’s furious

thoughts, seeking

a weaker barrier to

fully break down

.

until it reaches

a deep trench, where

all ends meet, and

the gap widens

just enough to drive

one quite insane.

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Filed under Poetry

Welcome To The Real World

Your dreams, they slowly fade
So uncommitted and it’s such a waste
You’re left alone and afraid
Now just confine your problems and
Figure out your own way to solve them...

~*~

Useless kid

With the useless mind

Your petty little art

Is as useless, you’ll find

You’ll never make it out there

With your cloudy dreams

Get in line like everyone else

Into their soul-sucking machines

.

Useless kid

With the useless mind

Your foolish little hobbies

Will fall into the grind

So let them go as you give in

To the travesty of worshipping green

Useless kid, why don’t you just grow up?

No one wants another screwup.

~*~

You can’t get back what you’ve lost
Your conscious is slowly fading away
Go face the path you’ve paved
I watched your dreams die
They fell in front of your eyes…

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Filed under Poetry

19 – raw insomnia

33 hours

fueled only by

bad fanfiction

vaporwave and

other aesthetic

driven-insanity

and sedentary

motivations

must work on

must strum until

fingers bleed,

must be fucking

useful right now—

.

34 hours

building on

paper bags and

bad decisions

and vitriol with

well-needed friends

coming to an end

still writing, still

spitting out ideas,

still trying to drain

myself out of every

last drop of dopamine,

oh, i’m so fucking

useless right now—

.

38 hours

and still going on…

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Filed under Poetry

Colourblind Memory

And when I see you
I really see you upside-down
But my brain knows better
It picks you up and turns you around
Turns you around, turns you around
If you feel discouraged
That there’s a lack of color here…

~*~

It was an easy kind of self-destruction; the one I never had to beg for.

After a few nights of staying awake and listening to cheaply-constructed songs on the static radio, I was already haunted. Copper chain links that stabbed at the fictional horizon and left unstitched scars on the exposed wind. Shy vespertine flowers that bloomed in the most coruscant spectrums, but only when no weeping eye was there to witness their exquisite grandeur and compose concerto symphonies about it. An infinite, arrogant, wakeless kind of blue that rivaled every transatlantic and pacific direction that I chased; but, unlike the oceans of this planet so drenched and cold and jaded to the bone, no one is ever able to cross it, and no one ever will.

And violet. A damnable shade, akin to roses-not-reds and forget-me-nots, that violet. A bleeding, dirty kind of violet that left filthy, undecipherable Roschach stains everywhere. Splattering the bruises of my halted tongue, shading the asphyxiation of my untouched lips, violently overtaking the rock-steady sorry secret that was divulged and diluted all too late. It painted a tragedy that only the most damaged and paranoid artists could understand, and rending shreds of the purest agony down my colliding ribs that not even the most genius maestros and starving dilettantes could begin to dissect; for it was a foreign anatomy. A different unknown. A beyond the beyond. It was brutally twisted inside my veins and gauchely discarded somewhere in between sense and sanctuary, photographed and arrested in another postcard vintage lie. I could write graphite letters at the back all I want, but I’ll never swim away from the indigo waves in front. It was our holiday memory, drowning me again and again and again.

Absolutely useless. It couldn’t aid my breathing. It couldn’t save my sleeping. It was a disease that was highly susceptible only to my atrophied words and comatosed syllogisms—the same unfortunate ones that are now leaving my chafed fingers but never my wornout mind, like you, like you, like you.

Unrelenting. Unsuspending. Unending.

All my colours were inverted. And no one can turn it back the right way.

If there even was one.

~*~

Please don’t worry, lover
It’s really bursting at the seams
For absorbing everything
The spectrum’s A to Z
This is fact, not fiction
For the first time in years…

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Filed under Prose

thanks for nothing

i know that

i shouldn’t expect

you to be any grateful

but i would expect

at least to feel less

useless and more useful.

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Filed under Poetry

This Uselessness is Murder.

I try to walk away, how has it come to this?
I’ve said it once, I’ve said it twice, 
I’ve said it a thousand fucking times
That I’m okay, that I’m fine, that it’s all just in my mind
But this has got the best of me, and I can’t seem to sleep…

~*~

Idling away with nothing but my butane thoughts

To reinforce the growing rot in my kindling head

Godforsaken memories ungraciously worm their way

Back from repressed twinge and into my unmade bed

Longing for a grandiose escape from this noetic asylum

I call my own mentality, as I keep desperately clawing

At the thin bleached walls of my own bleeding skull

But never shattering it completely, and only left dying

And I honestly just can’t fucking stand this sedentary state

Eyes left reduced to another silent ticking timebomb

Working my dull teeth’s grind like it’s a paying day’s job

Doing everything I can to keep myself blisslessly numb

And the worst part is when the overthinking kicks in

Hitting me straight in my fractured chest again and again until

I couldn’t breathe anymore, and until I would just about do

Anything, anything at all, just to distract myself and not to feel

And when the mollifying rain stops and the vengeful heat returns

To exacerbate the heavily-settling hell of a migraine inside

It’s all I can do to groan inhumanely and suffocate myself on the pillow

Realising wretchedly that summer hasn’t even started—and I’ve already died.

~*~

Every second, every minute
Every hour, every day
It never ends, it never ends
Every second, every minute
Every hour, every day
It never ends, it never ends…

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Filed under Poetry

Sharp Edges

But these bruises don’t breathe

Unless you ameliorate them

With your own cold, lifeless hands

.

The daylight appears desolately bleak

Sucking out watercolour dawn and sunset

Waiting for you to speak about them

.

Jagged contusions that I tend to

Hiding constellations when you’re awake

Afraid that you’ll leave me for the light

.

Midnight is but a chemical rush

Your body is but an unfinished work of art

Morning is but an automatic languor

.

I’m useless anyway; so use my trophy eyes

And when you get tired of the view

You can blind me and throw away whatever’s left.

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Filed under Poetry

Suicide is Imperative; Dying is Relative

Stop me before I go to waste
For every heart that’s born can easily be torn away
I can’t comply to this state of consciousness
That we call life, and though I stand here to perish
I will stand here ’till I die…

~*~

Suicide is such a selfish word, isn’t it?

An exquisite hum never to be whispered

And muttered under cautious hushed breaths

But don’t let your sweet little girl pull the trigger

And send her down along to her early death

It’s the last resort to someone who has nothing

Failure is relative, but then again so is dying

An easy way out, you don’t need to leave a note

Be an open ending with your last pages never wrote

Jealous hearts seek clarity in forms of twisted mentality

Bladed sobriety, I wish someone would find me

But no dares to ask, and no one dares to kindle and ignite

The bonfire that might burn down the entire midnight

The attempts I’ve hidden behind star-spangled band-aids

The promises thrown away like an extinguished hand grenade

Guilt, pain, contrition shaken up like a secret toxic potion

Three cheers and toast to us, and here’s to murderous emotions

For the lifelines we destroyed, the stars that will outlast

The existence that will never be, the sulphurous bite of the past

For giving up the ghost so hard the grim reaper gets chills

For the recovery that is bullshit misery, for all the numbing thrills

Don’t decode the snarled banter, dying’s really just entertaining

A childish amusement, they say it’s serious, but why am I laughing?

It’s so easy to throw yourself to the vultures instead of the sharks

There’s nothing left to be salvaged if you’re already torn apart

Suicide, it’s such a disgustingly beautiful word, isn’t it?

For the bruised minds that keep slipping under the lack of leverage

Three unlucky syllables can never sum up all the sussurous pleas

Never to do it, for our spines never to be avaricious nor weak

But sometimes, enough is just fucking enough, isn’t it?

Never mind the big picture of the future if the details are flawed

The decades I have left won’t compare to the halcyon thought

For the peaceful centuries of eternity that my corpse has left to rot

Life is difficult. I should just kill myselfshouldn’t I? Why shouldn’t I?

~*~

Stop me from making more mistakes
Fallen friends have learned their lessons
Fate their teachers taught them all too late
Don’t teach me too late, just hide me from my fate…

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Filed under Poetry

A useless announcement

So it’s valentines. Huh. 

Since it is the month of love (God, that sounds so mushy), I’ll be posting a couple of poems and shiz that may or may not be love…linked?

But don’t expect anything really mushy of full of love or other disgusting stuff like that from me. Well, you probably won’t, based on my previous posts. But if you’re new here, then…No. Just…don’t expect that. I don’t roll like that.

I’ll give out a forewarning, just to make things clear.

WARNING: Some (or most…or all…) of the stuff I am going to post are mostly bloody and really psychopathic, since it comes from a psychopathic, vivid mind. I also described some stuff in here a little too…descriptive? So if you cannot take that kind of stuff, or you have some sort of heart disease or whatnot, then please, I suggest that you close this page, throw your laptop or PC or phone into a blazing fire, and just carry on with your life. Also, this warning is getting too long. And I suck at professionalism. But, I digress. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!

Got all that? Good.

That’s all I really had to say. Oh, wait. Sorry for being inactive as well. But fear not, dear readers, I am returning!

Okay, that’s all I really had to say. 

~LostPaintingOut~

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