Tag Archives: wreck

treachery, and then some

i’m the disconnect

the reset in the corner

of a lacerated brain

a troublemaker with a

causeless cause, if

only to destroy, if only

to wreck and rectify

if only to be the liability

that leaves beggars

and bastards cursing in

the end, cursive cry

hide myself with gaslight

to burn another home

and thrill all the stars with

these glinting claws

and fever dreams, allowing

me to pluck them out

and crush the last remains

beneath my own sins

so disconnect me—before

i scream once again

before their clocks retreat

after i’ve caused the

shame which left my own

bruised head in ruins.

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Filed under Poetry

Derailed

And it’s almost enough

To send the words speeding

Right out of my careless mouth

And turning into a trainwreck

Right before your very eyes

.

And no amount of snowfall

Could ever cover up all the damage

It will cause—but what else am I

To do, when you’re already there

Patiently lying by the railroad tracks?

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Scapegoat

Not lost, not blown away
Just irritated and quite hated
Self-control breaks down
Why’s everything so tame?
I like my life insane
I’m fabricating and debating
Who I’m gonna kick around…

~*~

Coat your catharsis

With repulsive medicine

Frustrated with tales

Where you’re not the victim

.

Your pity parade’s quite loud

But no one’s really listening

It was a laugh when it lasted

But now it’s three in the morning

.

And no one’s up for a fight

No one wants to see you lose

No one wants to admire your

Lips that quiver and bruise

.

So please keep it all for yourself

Or better yet, just keep it all away

Make sure to close the windows

And look after the wreck you made.

~*~

Right now, I feel it scratch inside
I want to slash and beat you
Right now, I rip apart the things
Inside that excite you
Right now, I can’t control myself
I fucking hate you…

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Filed under Poetry

lights, camera, action!

i am a candid facade—

i am no longer the crashing wreck

portrayed in movies and books

bleeding out question marks and

bad decisions to the open ocean

.

i am the jaunt in your sunday steps

and the gaily tip of your hats

and a million dollar movie star

with the confident mouth and purple hair

.

i am a candid facade—

i am not me. i am not me. i am not…

i am dissociated from all my

failures and collapses, from my

depression and desperation,

.

from me, from myself, from i;

i am not me. i am not me. i am not…

.

until i am not becomes i am me.

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Nervous Wreck

You’ve got a lot of nerve

At the tip of your tongue

When you were the one

Who made me feel sorry

I was still even breathing,

The one who made all my

Dreams feel secondhand

And just a cheap thrill drug,

The one who made it seem

Like underground reposing

Was the only option for you.

.

You’ve got a lot of nerve

On your mouth, and none

On the organ past your ribs—

But that’s alright, because I

Lost mine when you twisted

It into a noose and made my

Cold throat feel numbed-out.

That’s alright if you want to

Murder trust and then act like

You’re the fucking victim here

Just don’t drag me down again—

You could do that for yourself.

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Worthless Words from a Worthless Wreck

You’re too kind to me, you know that?

I don’t deserve absolution, or warm comfort, or reassuring words, or a steady shoulder to lean on when I cry. I deserve atonement, a punch in the face, a cold scream to strengthen up, I need tough love and tougher hate, because I’m far too spineless for my own good and I shouldn’t be stagnantly melting and caving in to that unwieldy trait anyway.

Do you like hearing about my problems? I don’t honestly believe that. Even I’m so sick of listening to the same old shit that I speak over and over again. Whining about problems so trite and unreasonable, even the purest of angels will certainly hate me for it. Oh, I’m sad again. Big fucking deal, so are a million other people out there, but do you see them complaining? No, so I should just suck it up and shut up about it already.

But I can’t, and I don’t. And you unknowingly get caught up in the middle of this ugly mess.

Just like any other rational person out there, you must think I’m rather obnoxious. Petty. Disgustingly needy. I know that’s not your nature, but still, I understand that, though. On the contrary, I understand it more than anyone else ever will. I know I push everyone’s patience to their breaking limits. I hurt and I hurt, and I’ve hurt other people, and I’ve hurt you, and I’m not worth my time or space, and neither should I be yours.

I’m sorry, but the truth is the truth, no matter how much it makes all the repressing lies in my fucked-up brain seethe indignantly. I’m always so pathetically selfish, but I sincerely never wanted this for you. You’re a decent soul with the best intentions and better people to spend your life on. I’m a bad person. I’m a bad friend. I’m always going bad. So why, just why are you being so good to me?

You’re too kind to me, you know that?

That’s being too cruel to yourself.

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Filed under Prose

The Weakness

And as I’ve aged, the only thing I think has changed
Is that the demons have moved from under my bed
Into the inner depths of my head
I can’t escape the ugly things my mind creates
I speculate that they’ll stay with me ’til the grave…

~*~

I scream to the wreck of my mind on my knees

Pray for death’s innocence for my untimely release

When the hurt is too little, the numb is too much

When I want to feel more but I’m just too detached

.

“The disease is not real, you have no right to be sad”

Their way of caring is not caring when I start to get bad

Waiting to understand, when every time is just a relapse

Swing the pendulum again until lines on my skin overlap

.

And their laughter becomes a never happily ever after

I escape in the bedroom with that ugly mocking mirror

When home feels like choking fingers around my throat

I splash my face with dreams to convince myself to cope

.

Thinking that someday soon I will be just who I want to be

But when I say the words, it just feels like lip-syncing to me

I’m on the brink of the bottomless cliff, but I refuse to jump

Because a fool is just another fool waiting for the right bump

.

So I scream to the wreck of my mind to grow some wings

And pray for life’s corruption for me to be finally released

When giving up is too easy, and it’s difficult to fucking hope

I cling to what little miserable faith I have and try not to let go.

~*~

I can’t help the way my mind
Is hardwired to hate myself
Is there any hope for me?
‘Cause I swear that this is hell
The way I desperately try to save myself
‘Cause I can’t save myself…

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Filed under Poetry

Qualms of the Divine

You took my hand and then we both started running
Both started running, there’s no place to go
Another bullet and we both started running
Both started running too; save yourself, don’t ever look back
Nowhere to go and so we both spin around in circles…

~*~

The returning memories, they hurt me

Again I’m left feeling like a total wreck

I never thought that I would ever miss

Every other reason I didn’t even expect

.

My life was a joke, but you have turned it into art

There was nothing keeping me from falling apart

But the rains withdrew to show a different painting

Of serotonin and gaslight, lighting up a cold ending

.

This is all yours to promise, and all yours to take back

My poems have turned to cinders, the ashes sift to black

But be the lapse in my rationality, be the lacuna I ache for

These memories, they haunt me, but saturate me with colour.

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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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Filed under Prose

Collide in Contagion

Bury me in the bedroom where I, I can sing you to sleep all night
Put me next to the open window, promise me a second time
‘Cause I don’t want to leave without you buried by my side
I’d rather kill the one responsible for falling stars at night
Cause they fall all around me, the night can be deadly….

~*~

You’re the honorary

Disease of my cardiovascular

Eradication, love

The million spider bites

Injecting toxin in my system

Until my nerves seize

Like the abrupt hitch of my

Asthmatic breath when

Your fangs sank into soft flesh

And painted my skin red

Red as the cerise vows you made

That gave me scarlet fever

.

But where would we end up

If it weren’t for your pellucid palate

And bloodlust for melodrama

Rictus interlocked against rictus

Disgustingly quivering as

Both mouths whispered bullshit

That intensifies the acrid taste

Of our executed demise

I’ll carve profanities in your

Fractured ribcage, and pierce this

Needle past your deflated lungs

Serrated viciously until you gasp for air

.

I buried this disgusting romance

Under a reckless murder scene

And if you think you can dig it back up

I’ll hit your head with the shovel

Your eyes are protanopic machines

My lips feel like corroded metal

So rust away the scar tissues

And mangle in the alkaline fear

Pernicious hysteria and controversies

Realining my taut fasciculus

Sealed surgery with parallax thorns

Festering in my paralytic accident again

.

So tell me if my parasitic mind

Is as right as your moral ambiguity

I’m inhaling your reputation

Like crushed cocaine and car smoke

But the crash test of my dopamine

Is beginning to rapidly decline

And the agony of your bruises are

Already starting to fucking set in again

My encephalon is incapacitated

You took advantage of the ill

But love, if this is what it takes to

Collide me with your wrecked body

Then I don’t ever want to heal.

~*~

And I don’t care if you’re sick
I don’t care if you’re contagious
I would kiss you even if you were dead
Would somebody make me go blind for the rest of my life?
‘Cause I’d do anything to hold your hand!

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Filed under Poetry