Tag Archives: voices

Torment

I hurt myself again today

And I’m sorry that I did

I don’t know. Why am I so afraid

Of never bleeding out?

.

The silence speaks to me

And it speaks in a thousand voices

And it tells me what I’ve done

.

I know what I have done

.

I want to undo everything

And start somewhere

That doesn’t involve any bruises

And burns over marred skin

.

If only someone could tell me

Where that is

.

So I don’t have to be lost

In a tidal wave of old promises

As old as forsaken happiness

I said I would always try to keep

But gave away to the grasp of time

.

It was my forgotten concept

But with no one to teach me again

It’s all I can do to remember

And try to heal what’s left of me.

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bedroom serenades

Now you’re gone, but I’ll be okay
Your hot whisky eyes have fanned the flames
Maybe I’ll burn a little brighter tonight
Let the fire breathe me back to life…

~*~

remnant of voices

saccharine pristine

never been better

i’ll listen forever

.

wind’s static noise

can’t mask laughter

we can’t be sober

i’ll listen forever

.

midnight memory

simple symphonies

a life in full colour

i’ll listen forever

.

serenading back

‘til morning sighs

so end this never

i’ll listen forever

.

it’s a nervous sea

but i don’t mind

i’ll listen forever

will you hear me?

~*~

I will sing to you every day
If it will take away the pain
Oh and I’ve heard you got it, got it so bad
‘Cause I am the best you’ll never have…

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frostbites

My head is stripped just like a screw
That’s been tightened too many times
When I think of you, when I think of you
I will shield you from the waves if they find you
I will protect you, I will protect you
Just tell me, tell me, tell me I
I am the only one even if it’s not true…

~*~

love,

my mouth

is cold

from speaking

about these

sweet curses

in futile

hopes that you

will listen

to them; or to me.

there’s been

a million

dead voices

before me, of

poets and

troubadours

and musicians

all of them

so prestigious

and all hopelessly

asking for your

heart on a

silver platter.

for they have had

a taste, and now

they want

more, and they

want it all,

and i am one

of them.

so come morning

take me in,

hold me tight

until i die, and give

my ghost

to the grey stars

colliding with

the lacerated horizon.

this distance just

makes me

tormented and

miasmatic, but it’s

for the sake

of your taciturn

sunlight, and

i’m already scorched.

for you’re so

beguiling, love…

won’t you

make me feel

warm?

~*~

I’m here at the beginning of the end
Oh, the end of infinity with you
I’m done with having dreams
The thing that I believe
Oh, you drain all the fear from me…

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after the lobotomy

Pardon me, cutting sleep
I’m taking up grinding teeth
You’re why I’m sitting here, hating myself
For needing someone so bad
And feeling dumb dumb dumb…

~*~

mind your head

can’t concentrate

i want you to go

don’t stay away

i’m being feisty

my smile is numb

you got me walking

saying “goddamn”

you’re in my line

of sight and range

but duck your head

before it’s too late

my voices are all out

i won’t say a thing

but i’ll hang around

till i get what you mean

pardon, i lost my mind

when you came around

you’re far too high for me

so let me go, let me go down.

~*~

If why I’m sitting here
All goes wrong
Just pushing me back to Texas
Walking bum bum, goddamn…

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insignificance

You’re losing your light
Everything that was yours
Just does not exist

So don’t even try to say
Sorry for the things in life that
You might have missed…

~*~

i quietly wonder

if i had done anything

wrong to reclaim

another faultful star

.

as i stare outside the window

cascading past endless stretches

of worn paved-roads

and vast fertile landscapes

.

and everything looks transiently gargantuan

.

but i momentarily glance

at the empty bus seat next to me

and i feel rather small again

.

flimsy music in my ears

speaking of infinite sentiments

and i’m disenchanted again

these mellisonant voices are enough

they have to be enough

.

to keep my wandering mind

company against the ephemeral madness

.

i flick my red lighter open

and hold it close—but not too close

to my dying pen; wondering, for

a moment, if the same trick could revive

my spirits like the stuttering ink,

tempted to burn my flesh back to life

.

but i merely stare into the flame—

flickering unsteady still—and blow it out

so it doesn’t have to be lonely

as my heart is right now

.

as i travel from small city

to smaller town, i wonder where

all my friends are right now

how they are all doing

what they are doing

.

and if they’re all having fun

without me.

~*~

Sometimes they say this should
Feel something like fire
‘Til it burns you and you can’t
No, you can’t remain the same
Stay the same, although you know
They say this should feel something like fire
No, I can’t change…

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Primal Fear

I can’t escape myself
So many times I’ve lied
But there’s still rage inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can’t control myself…

~*~

I can’t last, can’t escape

My bloodshot eyes can’t tell

I can’t love, but can hate

Cage the animal in eternal hell

.

I tried to let go of the knife

In the past, when it was dark

But the nightmare in my life

Can’t be tamed with a mark

.

I can’t last, can’t escape

My bloody hands hang limp

I can sleep but can’t wake

Burn the beast when it sinks

.

I have tried to shake off

All the voices in my brain

But the screams and scoffs

Causes an eternal migraine

.

I can’t last, can’t escape

All the blood has exited my body

I can’t fake, I can’t take

Bury the creature in the cemetery.

~*~

So what if you can see the darkest side of me?
No one would ever change this animal I have become
And we believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become
And we believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal…

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What’s Wrong?

It’s all overgrown but you’ll never know
Take the mirror from the wall so I can’t see myself at all
Don’t wanna see another damn inch of my skull
Forget the poems of saints and ghosts, I’m the one I fear the most
Little did I know that I was only crying wolf…

~*~

Lied faceless identities and lost nameless bones

Broken mirrors romancing with concrete stones

Low voices muttering in the middle of the night

Back against the wall, turned under black lights

Standing in the midst of destruction that rebirths

Sacrificing sanctity for the sake of scars to revert

.

I will be what’s wrong with the world.

.

A hundred metaphors deleted in boldface type

Swearing for the shadows, cursing lack of spite

For no one envisions a future with personal ties

Because tongues can only soar out when they lie

An arsenal of armory, walls built to keep them out

Convinced by the paranoia and mitigated by doubt

.

I will be what’s wrong with the world.

.

So call out the name that’s censored in every news station

Immortalised only in faded graffiti and youthful separation

So seek on and find now what can only be seen by the blind

To a place where wrong is right, and the heart beats the mind

I won’t be the marching guide, the black parade you’ll follow

But in a reality of common opposites and moral contradictions, I know

.

I am what’s wrong with the world.

~*~

No I never sold my soul, no I never sold mine
I know it’s so wrong but I’m so far gone
Don’t need you to tell me I’m so cynical
Quit being so over-skeptical
Don’t need a metaphor for you to know I’m miserable…

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Consumed

Yeah, this is what I do, take another bite
Big enough to chew
She said, “Careful, or you’ll lose it”
But girl, I’m only human
And I know there’s a blade where your heart is
And you know how to use it…


Entrée # 1: Hors d’œuvre

There’s blood in my fingers from where you broke them clean

Take another bite of my quivering torso, gut the blade in my spleen

I’ll be alright, my bloodshot eyes roll back at your finer tastes

If you’re planning to murder me, dear, just don’t let me go to waste


Entrée #2: Apéritif

I couldn’t lose it, I wouldn’t lose it, this time, this time I swear

They all look so goddamn tantialising to me, they’re all so unaware

My cracked lips are watering at the thought of flesh rather aged

I’m five seconds away from counting down and going into a rampage


Fine Dining: Plat Principal

The rioting voices in my head screamed “Run, why don’t you?!”

But I’m afraid I’m enjoying my own homicide scene far too much to stop

Turn around, let me see the perpetrator, let me take you through

It’s not fair, with every gland and chemical, they ruptured in another trap


Save Some Room: Assiette à Dessert

What…what the fuck happened? All I see is a decaying cadaver still smiling

And sweet postmortem laughter digging at the back of my head, latching to me

I searched for a drag, lost restraint again, and satisfied myself with my  f e e d

I said that I’ll stop killing for greed, but I never said I’ll stop for what I  n e e d.


And you can take my flesh if you want, girl
But, baby, don’t abuse it
These voices in my head screaming, “Run, now”
I’m praying that they’re human…

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Chase Atlantic

For you, I chased down atlantic until it was drained and empty, consuming every last drop, and still, you were thirsty.

Xans, Oxy, gram, adderall, molly, vicodin, ketamine, codeine, amphetamine, heroin, every medication legal and illegal you selfishly overdosed on like it’s the sweetest candy, drugs and money fucking everything up, riding the waves, breathing in the ozone layer and craving the vaporous atmosphere, until all you could hear are birds singing at midnight and all your blank glazed eyes could see where pink shadows coalescing in the basement and the sound of your own synesthetic undersea voice, sewn up into crude stitches before it shatters soundlessly against the restless pastel ghosts; and you find out you were uncomfortably lying on your back in the bedroom floor all along, staring at the unlit ceiling dripping what you thought were your own tears but turned out to be rainwater, dial tone screeching your garbled songs, trying to call nobody at half past four in the morning, worn-down carpet igniting the smoke alarms with your interminable vices. I could only wish to hell that I was there to put it out.

There was a certain elegant delicacy in your tactlessly constructed words, soft beatnik aspersion and aggressive indie slurs romancing and entrancing my chilled spine, humming saxophone amid the alluring amalgamation of incoherent voices intertwining together into a strange, tangible, panicking tranquil. It was an art form in itself, inimitable, one of a kind, scattered accentuation your personal intricate signature. Every careless lilt about the dangerous pseudonymous girls you slept with last night, Angie, Cassie, Roxy, and the pill-popping pharmacists you’ll hold up with a gun as soon as the sun hits tomorrow. All these unsettling courtesies set in three parts of pastel grey and explicit roses, the dalliance and the nostalgia of everything, you were speaking in a foreign language only the truly sick in the head could properly understand, and the way you talked about all the mental pressure and self-esteem and choking anxiety so goddamn beguilingly, the way you talked about addiction as if you weren’t an addiction in itself, the way you just fucking aren’t, it got me overdosing on the panoply panache and sovereign shit on your bedside, but I was so into it.

How many times have you made my pulse beat when it was no longer mine? Every single afternoon, I wake up with a stabbing jolt like a guillotine’s rope pulled tight against my throat, gasping and desiring desperately for more, more of your prevarications. It was a talk show tactic, and you were the host telling me to talk slow and tell no lies, and I was your prize trophy, spilling my secrets and picking my battles cautiously, even though I knew that you were probably lying to me all along. The world was on your shoulders, angels hissing temptations under your skin, and we danced to the beat of your laughter and talked endless miles of film spiels about friends and no friends, gravity and good vibes, church walls and dancing in the dark with the devil, indiscretions and junkie stories high on adrenaline and dopamine, driving too fast and run over by the cops and swimming and thrashing in paradise until we’re so much higher than before, and everything was rhapsodic…until you hit the trigger and got me begging on my bleeding knees again. I’m scratching my nails, shivering madly, abusing my liver, and tearing the veins off my dead-ass heart as you killed my sanity, and baby I was only 23.

I’m obsessive. You said hold your breath, you’ll save me from the fading injections and we’ll run away right here to the underside of the world, and I won’t need to miss you and your anchor tattoo. And fuck it, but I believed all your twisted promises so fervently. I didn’t expect to fall instantaneous victim for such a scrupulous stratagem, this alternative relativity of drugs and parties not my accustomed niche, fucking up this whole thing. I was married to the screaming voices that serenade me everyday and haunt me every night, and I was theirs to render completely deaf into freedom; until you came out of nowhere and divorced me from the nightmares, and you incarcerated me—you made me even worse. You’re a psychopathic fringe wearing a smile on your face and holding a knife in your hand, you’re becoming a work of art. You don’t look too sane when you act like that, and babe, you won’t live too long with a mind like that. I was always fastidious about the taste of serotonin that I place against my lips, but even though it’s fire I’m kissing now, I’ve already been burnt, I fucking have. And I love counting the cigarette stains in my fragile marred skin, sepia-shaded nicotine tattooed permanently between my fingertips, branding me with your whispered name. My parents say I’m crazy, but I only wanna be buried six feet under your bed, ready to meddle about and smoke the cancerous stars away with you anytime. They say be rational about these things, but I stopped being reasonable the moment I listened to your drugstore symphonies and drowned in your cheap perfume. This chemical destruction is beautiful. I’ll keep it up, and I’ll keep riding the waves, crashing into you once more. And why stop at all? Okay is all I know right now. Mama I’m sorry, but reality’s boring.

For you, I’ll chase down atlantic until I’m drained and empty, consuming every last drop, and still, I’ll be thirsty for your eyes.

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