Tag Archives: wasted

Wrong Weekend

03.10.18. Saturday, 3:02 AM. Manhattan, New York.


He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes
Started making his way past 2 in the morning
He hasn’t been sober for days
Leaning now into the breeze
Remembering Sunday, he falls to his knees…


It’s three in the morning when I lock my heart behind the closet doors

And then I take another drink so I could forget what it was fighting for

Everything is louder when the sounds of a life once held are long gone

I’m crashing and cresting like the tidal waves of this bathroom tantrum

I’m looking for someone that has disappeared from newspaper tragedies

Hey mister, have you seen this person in the photo that was never taken?

It’s another hazy day wasted, but I guess I’ll go home just to burn it down

Write a song on my six-stringed guitar, and I wonder where you are again.


Forgive me, I’m trying to find
My calling, I’m calling at night
I don’t mean to be a bother
But have you seen this girl?
She’s been running through my dreams
And it’s driving me crazy, it seems…



07.16.18. Saturday, 3:57 AM. Manchester, England.


I’m not coming back (forgive me)
I’ve done something so terrible
I’m terrified to speak (I’m not calling, I’m not calling)
But you’d expect that from me
I’m mixed up, I’ll be blunt, now the rain is just…


It’s three in the morning when I put on my coat and slipped past the doors

After an evening of drinks so I could forget that I’m even fighting anymore

Everything is louder when the sounds of a life once held begins to fall apart

I’m collapsing and colliding just trying to get you out of that bathroom stunt

I’m losing myself and slowly disappearing under a pile of newspaper eulogies

Hey miss, can we delete ourselves, to pretend that this photo was never taken?

It’s another hazy day spent, so I guess I’ll go home in a place where I don’t burn

Right by the six-windowed room, and I won’t ever wonder where you are again.


You’re driving me crazy, I’m—
Washing you out of my hair and out of my mind
Keeping an eye on the world, from so many thousands
Of feet off the ground, I’m over you now
I’m at home in the clouds, and towering over your head
Well I guess I’ll go home now. I guess I’ll go home…


 

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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 Madman’s Magnum Opus

Insane is all I know right now, and my head feels demented

My nails fall out, my gums decay, before I get sedated

I choke on my teeth and swallow a few, shit, it feels hard

As they wring the spit from my eyes and again I’m a discard

So numb that I couldn’t feel the knife on my spine anymore

And I couldn’t count the tally marks screaming on the wall

Keeping track of the infinite days when the demon lets me be

And inches its fangs closer to put me out of my stagnant misery

.

Because the blood tastes more delectable when it’s not my own

As the whores that I corrupted bring my wasted body home

They don’t flinch at the maggots that they suck from my mouth

But they do protest before the chloroform hits their breathing south

No no, it’s not torture, I promise I won’t ever hurt you, my dear

I just wish to lick away all your mingling doubts and puerile fear

But don’t piss yourself, don’t soil your skin, or I’ll be very mad indeed

Behave yourself and stay sweet as hell, or you’ll die before you heed

.

But they caught me revering over one of my masterpiece creations one day

Yelling loud profanities to such beauties, that’s not a very nice thing to say

They dislocated my shoulder just trying to put my artistic hands in cuffs

And took away my beloved artworks, goddamn these useless criticising cops

So that’s how I ended up in here, living and sleeping in a filthy jail cell

With a colossal man who uses me to play every night as if I couldn’t even tell

The food is bland, the nurses laugh, the doctors give me exclusive diseases

The medicine is cheap and expired, putting my mind under heavy poisoned dazes

.

But it’s alright, because the girls I love visit me when no one else is looking

Their breaths may be putrid, their bones may protrude, but I won’t be complaining

And they’re building a rope out of their intestines to help with my grand escape

Don’t worry, I’ll be back to make you feel loved again, so just you patiently wait

They may inject cholera and botulism in me, and force me to see an underpaid shrink

But I won’t be deluded at all, no, as clear as a dark day I can still properly think

I’ll lace my pustule-dotted hands with anthrax and touch them until they’re all dead

Writhing on the floor as I step on their bodies, no one can help these bastards now

.

But for now, insane is all I can ever know, and all this pain feels rather demented

My cheeks slough off, my ears leak brain fluid, yet I feel so divinely elevated

I suffocate on plastic pills and jolt again from the electroshock, shit, it’s such a buzz

As they wring the tears from my broken neck and again I black out with a slurred cuss

So insensible I couldn’t feel the rusted scalpel slicing out my frontal lobe anymore

But I wouldn’t have to count the scratched tally marks shrieking at me on the stone wall

Because when the demon rends another piece from my heart and transfers immortality

Vengeance will be served and heads will roll; this world is damned, so I’ll add a little more beauty.

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Filed under Poetry, Valentines Poetry

U n d r e s s e d · S p i n e

Rest, pour into the concrete outlines of my concrete bed

And write me another song about narcoleptic nightmares

We’ll wash away the wasted world with chlorine screams

With the rose you left embedded in your chest, and there

We’ll crash all our pendulum promises into the pavement

Lingering shards on your lips, and lodged deep in my pen

I won’t stay in California and burn the palm trees with you

But I’ll bite down on the truth and listen to your halo again.

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Chronicles of the Senseless and the Sleepless: Staying Sober

Well now this could be the last of all the rides we take
So hold on tight and don’t look back
We don’t care about the message or the rules they make
We’ll find you when the sun goes black…

~*~

And we proclaim that I don’t look the same as I did yesterday

Every bruise and blemish counted is just another reason for me to stay

If misery was punishment, then we’re both headed for the guillotine

But I’d rather be decapitated and headless than an overthinking machine

Every story we’ve had to throw, profanity mixed casually like cocktails

Only the starrified night and empty pavements can witness our fails

Waging a war against murderers lurking in the shadows of the city

Sodium streetlamps and laughter illuminating in each other’s company

Hands painted black, music caught between the skins of our teeth

Verboten made verbatim, calculating in every sense of blame and defeat

Maybe we won’t forget the good times, and let the bad times go to hell

Devil may care but we won’t mind, say but don’t tell, give what you can sell

One last drink to toast over, before this damn year gives way and finally breaks

Shots for every adventure and misfortune, one for every felicity and mistake

Alcohol to alleviate the drowsiness, and coffee to nurse the raging stomachaches

I may be a shambling mess, but for this I don’t mind staying just an hour more awake.

~*~

And you only live forever in the lights you make
When we were young we used to say
That you only hear the music when your heart begins to break
Now we are the kids from yesterday…

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Mary’s Counting Dead Sheep Again

Mary had a little dream
Her eyes were blank and cold
And everywhere that Mary went
The beasts were sure to go…

~*~

Another night spent where there’s nothing but wasted thoughts arbitrarily presenting itself behind my star-sewn eyelids, slaughtering and slandering what little is left of the fleecy drowsiness that I stared the myriad astral bodies into. Horizons blend from honeysuckle sunsets into a velvety-rich midnight, every jaded memory and faded remembrance lying somnolent on my bed, and activated by the flick of an overused lamp switch. Nondescript chagrin is pressing softly at the back of my inundated throat; later on I’m aware that this force will grow until I begin to choke and fail to intake oxygen. For now, I exhale tiredly. The weight of the world trails behind my breath and sinks in the disturbed dust, kicking up old resentments.

I feel vexed. I shouldn’t be trusted to live up to the chimerical expectations that everyone has written down for me in indelible ink, as if it was the byzantine code that would unlock my stubborn rusted heart if they sharpened their blunt needles and tattooed it under the layers of my diaphanous flesh, into my clenched and straining muscles. It hurts, doesn’t it? The bared grins sneer unsympathetically, claws holding me down with incontestable strength, and it’s all I could do to complacently nod, cautiously wary of the glinting guillotine that’s dangling only inches away from my stiffened neck. I’m merely a plaster-cast mind, deranged and cracking under the pressure of the tattered cassock’s final judgment, and someday they will unsheathe me and mock my abstract art.

Despite the vainglorious efforts, painstaking hands filling in the voided gaps with purified liquid gold won’t fix me. It may look to be a desirable effect; yes, and perhaps it would do me good to have a little bit of luminance in the bare, simple vessel I questionably call my body. But in the end it’s nothing but a deceitful playact, an illusion of smoke and mirrors, fragrant cerise roses beneath the ravenous mucilage monster waiting for dear sweet Mary to reach out her delicate hands and get her cherry blonde locks entangled in the lethal thorns. And I do not wish to be darling strawberry-cheeked Mary, adored and oh-so glorified by everyone, yet playing the unfortunate lifeless victim in the end. I won’t be the one being grieved over, I won’t be at the receiving end of the sword; rather, I’ll be the merciless hand holding the ax and wiping the poison off her pallid blue lips.

And where does the verdict of the counseling jury lie, staring down upon me condescendingly with my indelible inked-on vices and gaping neck wounds from grazing the guillotine blade and the inevitable tempered gold patching up my shattered bones, as I hide the bloody murder weapon behind my back and cross my broken fingers, still tasting little Mary’s most saccharine sin and feeling the prickling sensations dig deep into my engraved palms? Will they immediately claim me guilty? Or is my goading charisma enough to get the edacious wolves begging for my forgiveness to save the hunt for another day? The questions hang from my pastel ceiling dreamily, yet the answer rests in my lurid nightmares, I know. I know. For now, I hold my breath and slowly close my star-sewn eyelids, counting the wasted thoughts dragging into another night spent and another soul selling out. One, two, three, four, five…

~*~

…They followed her when she woke up
She woke up, she woke up
They crept into her fragile heart
And made its beating stop.

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bubblegum heart

bubblegum heart

popping again

sweet to the bone

until it tastes bland

like a bitter stone

.

bubblegum heart

stretch me out

sugar against enamel

chew out the pink

and blow me up

.

bubblegum heart

are your jaws getting tired?

of all the senseless natter

wasted efforts partaken

over such a saccharine matter

.

bubblegum heart

i’ll get stuck in your teeth

you can stick me under your desk

but you won’t get rid of

the nasty cavities.

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silent summers and wasted memories

They used to be the rivers
That would take us away
But now you only call me
Every Christmas and my birthday…

~*~

diving into

liquid reveries

and searching for

lost words

i could never

set past my

grievous tongue

in endless

nights of misadventure

and chicanery

rife with fondness

and hyperbole

and playful kicks

jovial as it hits

our wayside brains

though never

directly spoken

we were speaking

in a language

that only we

could decipher

leaving the rest of

the world to wonder

what amuses our

strange souls so

little did they know

we were laughing

at them all along

for they could

never understand

how these broken gears

spin and stutter

and how we turn such

mechanical gnashes

into a symphony

listening to each other’s

lilting cacophonies

until sunset hits

our bloodshot eyes

bidding us its goodnight

and i yearn for those

pastel-shade days…

of glib tongues

talking about stuff

and sheer nonsense

and insensibility

and rancid relativity

and bouts of sovereignty

in blue screen deaths

and sleep infidelity

now a distant polaroid

fettered in grey

and fragmented by time

a memory daze—

i break the surface of

my reminiscing

almost forgetting to

catch my breath

and write the words

i remembered to think

but never said aloud

hoping someone could

still hear the wind…

it was a delicate summer

and yet, rather wasted

on dead air and empty silence

that much, i know

that much, i could see

and that much, i wonder

i wonder if you knew

and i’m rather curious

why are we wasting

time again?

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Cutless

It feels like a decade

Since these tears last bled

And the moon in my sober eyes

Were thoroughly wasted

When the sentient papercuts

Barely felt a modest sting

And the headlights overhead

Were blindingly glaring

When nights were spent praying

But the car crash never arrived

Acid sensation uncontrollable

But no one ever died

It feels like a decade since

The reaper knocked on my wrists

I swept my sins but I still don’t know

What it’s like to be completely free.

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Pull The Plug

Am I better off dead, is it all in my head?
There’s a snake in my mind, spitting venom and lies
It runs through my veins, paralyzed by the pain
I’m at the end of my rope, as it’s placed around my throat…

~*~

Maybe this time I’ll wear these scars over my shirt

And tell everyone what it means to be hurt

Drag my broken legs around to chase their lost sun

And bite down on my own tactless tongue

Maybe this time I will stop swearing in wasted sins

The serpent in my neck, behead the prince

Drown past crosses, and tiptoe around rosary beads

A faith to tie over my wrists is what I need

Maybe this time I shall cease searching for my aorta

And don’t believe in entropy, even for an iota

Demolish this satirical pulse, retire the beat and kill

Maybe, just maybe, this time…I wouldn’t heal.

~*~

Wake me up, I’m seconds from the end
I’m dying to feel, I’ve been dying to live
Will somebody give me a sign, so I know I’m alive?
It’s time to wake me up, or pull the plug
Pull the plug! Somebody wake me up!

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