still under warranty

i.

and there it is

my total chaos and calm

glitching there in total standstill

on the scape of my mind

passing through the layered tundra of my thoughts

i find this place again and again

in sleep and in waking life

my eyesight gets worse by the second

as my mind clears

with every intoxicated breath that i release

i am whole

i am empty

a perfect circle drawn, severed and redrawn

by my mother's daughter

glimpses of her

the microsecond of microschizophrenia

of micropsychosis

this fleeting moment that is passing 

at the pace of the moon

i embrace all of it

and in this moment i see Ian Curtis, I hear Sarah Kane

and I feel myself

in my entirety

too big for my own skin but too small for this world

and i smile

this is the state of being awake

unwilling to sleep over these gripping energies

that linger over every pore

and hairs until they are absorbed

i do not want to wake up a different person anymore

---

ii. 

i realise that some mornings

i cling on to dear life to something that will not break, i guess

all-encompassing protection that smells like morning coffee

with arms that yield the torments back to sleep

i have found the broken pieces that fit mine.

it is a strange experience 

to feel safe, these days.

even when the sky is suffocating its grey dementia

and the comatose sun is unstirring

i relieve the depths of a mind i occupied so fully 

for so long

and step back into a life

where i could will the sky to be blue. 

and there it is

my death and second chance 

that i called my own

but now i let it go.

i have learnt that surviving is no trophy or medal to wear

around my neck or place on a mantlepiece. 

i smile

for once

in a long time

the smile of someone who realises who she is.

we are the post-traumatic generation

the genre of total healing.

----

iii.

i guess it is time 

to write this poem

because i do not want to forget this

if we love further than us

i will read this and remember

how you have always filled the places i had carved out from the pain

pieces i lay next to you

because you are there with open arms

and i look at all you carry of me

and realise how selfish that was

we all hold burden that is too much

for others to bear

and i guess that is why we hold each other sometimes instead now

i will do my best to never let you hold my pain again

because i think you hold enough of your own.

windows ajar

you look straight in.

sometimes these walls creak in the breeze and i feel my soul sink

further into its unsteady foundations

in disrepair and unaccommodating

a derelict place that cannot house yours.

i keep the doors unlocked for you just in case

it is better

to be out than in.

this is an ode to the feelings my heart is trying to comprehend

the same feelings that live in ways that

words will never tell

and in ways relationships can only break

through its shackles and social binding.

there are spaces left untrodden here.

love can rest there too

and that's okay

our bodies are tried and our souls are tired

and there are days when everything hurts from outside in.

this is an ode to friendship

and this is for you

when you feel like you are worth less than you are

this poem will live longer than us

and our pain and our doubts and our hurt

and it will always tell you

that between the nightmares and tears and k-holes

and health issues and total, complete panic

lies an impenetrable fortress holding undying light

where i thank you 

for being.

an ode to love

 this time i let go

because i am holding on to words that do not matter

so i step out and fall off the cliff edge of my mind

another mental suicide that never meets death

the loop of mental purge

and this time it comes for once in a long time

without guilt nor regret

and i finally see a glimpse of who i killed with my bare hands and buried

in a grave i dug for myself so many years ago.

i see for the first time that

the immortality of mental death

is a phenomenal thing

it scares me but somewhere in these alleys that now form

across the map of my mind

are familiar and revisited

catharsis through the purge of all thought

i empty the cache of my brain

and start again

to tell stories that i could never put down in words

here's a thought that just crept up;

perhaps i will never live

as much as i think about death

- whatever that fucking means?

---

sometimes i lie in the throws of sadness

bowing to its conquer

and ache for an entire world, outside looking in

unable to shed tears because the rivers have run dry

and there is never a chance of rain in my being

that raises forest fires and only burns

a volcano that has awoken with wrath from its slumber

i begin to draw the map of my soul, trying to find sense

in this terrain of tumultuous being i have never met.

i kiss a reminder of love

and i recognise him, eyes

peeking shyly over burnt out and tired bodies

my mind gasped at the recognition and i see myself

reflected through the windows that his eyes keep open,

his weak point for predators, an opening to his soul

but to me, the place where people can run to when the war on love begin

eyes that shut when all is pain on the outside

and will contribute to the solace that we all pay rent for to the evil corporates of the mind. 

in this moment, i am selfish, and i kiss a soul i know

can see me too

in this houseshare of

merciless and unforgiving pain

and deals with its aftermath everyday

the aftermath of pain can only be pain,

and we are the vessels that carry this viral entity

and because we meet in simple clarity

we are without

all of what we carry

the pain is phased out and silent, and i see only a soul

that vibrates for all the beauty of the world

and we hold each other, both just as mistrusting, both just as scared

ashamed, scared, vulnerable - already casting off the purity of what we feel in that instance

i laugh and i see so much of what the world has done to us

and in that moment

all i want to do

is remember how to truly love.

that was all i ever wanted, you know

before the hate

before the coldness

before knowing hearts, ribs and dignity could break into pieces that still remain unrecovered

by the people that say they love you

like MH370, like stolen artwork,

like items that fall out of a moving truck

like the person i once was.

and unrecognisable when you see it, a stray

a whisper

a mere memory i try so hard to keep forever in an impermanent world.

irreparable.

all i wanted

was for a world that could hold

the ones that feel it all

because the ones that feel it all

try to hold all of the world in their hands

because holding onto the world

is the only thing that will stop them from

disappearing into themselves

until they are nothing but a whisper of

a language nobody speaks

and nobody understands.

all i wanted was for love to take the wheel

to teach us and remind us that there is more

to the hurt and loss and loneliness

more than the bad press of love, construed by people who govern the tangible world and rewrite what Jesus was really trying to say

the people who rewrite what love means

and makes you forget how to understand another person.

trying to break the shied wall you and i and others like us have built

to protect the intangible part of the world

because we are the warriors that guard it

with our armour of endurance, pain and knowledge of battle

because we fight for love

and love is all-encompassing

never to be touched by sticky fingers

and the politics of thought and doubt.

all i wanted was to be part of the truest and purest

of life 

to live, in a life that proves to me it is worth living

because i really tried

again and again to prove

that i want to live it

and at some point

it would be fucking nice if that was reciprocated.

sometimes my entire being aches

knowing that our battle will be forever

because humanity has been replaced by

government

society

advertisement

distraction of our selves

and too many have fallen for it.

too many are blind and unloving,

fearing the hardship of remembering the worth of being.

i want to know what it would feel like

to know that i will never hurt again

i want to know what it feels like

to smile without the anticipation

of backlash

to know that all i do and say and feel and read and receive

is not a distraction but pure truth.

the consequences of feeling happiness

is sometimes too fucking much to bear

do you remember when you first realised when you learnt mistrust?

do you remember when you lost the smile that lived in the tickle of your eyes, and the curve of your lips

and when learnt that some things that break

are simply left broken

and that is simply unnatural

and unforgivable

and i wonder

time to time

like tonight when my mind is screaming

against itself

and i ask

who was the first to ever break a heart, a being, a person

and who was the person who took it all?

i want to know whose heart was first broken in our world

and i speak to them, into the night

i ask for forgiveness, reach out to the ether

and kiss them

and apologise to them for our ability

to create darkness that is darker 

than the shadows that are only casted by the moon.

and tell them i love them

even though i do not know them 

and i tell them that it should be

and only can be

that people must die from their hearts breaking

and their soul ripping away from a physical feeling

they do not understand

the first touch of pain

should kill and only kill.

and the only remedy, the only feeling that one must feel

is the worth of themselves

i will end this poem with a quote

because no one will every say it better than them

"what is life without a purpose?

and what is purpose without love?"

i plead to my readers tonight

do not ever feel alone

and if you do

it is a lie

if you do

you have to lie to yourself

with the truth

know you are never alone

even when you walk alone

and know

that i am there

writing this horror of a poem

wondering if someone else is also doing the same

because it feels simply and utterly shit

i have learnt to tell myself i am a waste of time

i know how you feel but know that it is a lie we tell ourselves

to fit in a world that does not have a place for us

because we fight for a world

that has never been given a place in the universe

we are the new and improved

and  will bring love to this plane of the universe

because this is the only reason

we as humans

in a broken world

exist

do you understand me?

what the actual fuck is going on

 i thought i knew my poems well

but i read them now

and they taste stale

foreign words from a foreign mind.

i guess i am different now

new and improved, whatever the fuck that means.

i cannot make these bands play any louder, out of any speaker

because my white noise is the loudest

on the measure of the threshold of pain

my ears do not bleed

but i swear

my soul shakes

and i let it

because shaking is better than 

sleeping under covers and covers of 

all i have done that i will never

ever undo

i tried to be someone -

what the fuck does that mean?

these words, they are rolling through my mind and i do not know anymore

bahasa apa saya cakap, 

l'ombre viens, et je l'accepte

todas as vezes... 

pain is a friend,

pain is the housemate that leaves the dishes unwashed

and steals your tobacco yet judges you for drinking

and borrows money for rent yet never gets more milk when it is finished

the friend you get tired of, and try really hard

to bite your lip and not fucking bitch about

because you know how he feels

and yes, pain is a man

because only men can stand what we do to them.

i am a feminist who wishes i was a man

i do not identify with anyone or anything

i am hollow

like a husk

like a dead sea shell

i am the feminist that spits at your equality hype, you girls

i am proud that men exist and without them

we would know no love

don't talk to me until you know this

women disgrace me, if they think any less

of the other half of the universe

and to hurt a man

is the biggest sin a woman can ever do

call me submissive, and i will chain you to your bed

bitch

and fuck you with a man of my choice

fuck you

i hate who i am now but i kind of like her

this dead soul

who has so much life

resenting what i stood for and able to rebel with my own self

i am still getting to know her

33 years of age and still wondering if i learnt a damn fucking thing.

i learnt that i am never alone

tribe or death

or ancestors

it is all the same

their words are constant in my ear

my own personal tinnitus

melodic and static to its best as long as i turn down 3khz

and i learn to colour my white noise

and give them meaning

i guess that is why i became a sound engineer.

frequencies

they shake me

they break me

they heal me

but is my frequency healing?

or do i simply destroy what is there

is it necessary?

am i needed at all?

what the fuck am i doing here?

these seconds of calm

there is something peaceful in the grey

the clouds are heavy with emptiness
the weight of the planets lift
as they align.

the weight of you
shifts
as the door of my mind
slams shut behind you

i am boy harsher's rhythm.

there is chaos in this calm
the rain stands still on
hair that never dries
beds never made in rooms that
never breathe
there i lie with sciatica that never heals on these
broken meridians

this heart no longer breaks but
it still aches from time to time
from too many cigarettes and strange liquids that burn,
burn and burn.

sometimes i see where we all go in the end
and i like what i see
the mountains
the taste of sea and smell of ocean spray behind my song
the time i travel is not that far beyond
yet it is always the travel back to now
that takes another bite out of my soul
and time suddenly seems to run out

sometimes it feels like it could be just simply easier
to stay there
and let myself run out.

old wounds for new souls

 i am rusting

in the rain that poured these 8 years when i should've learnt love

but instead i denied it

my precious friend, lover, tribe

i love you but i never showed it

and i am sorry

if only you knew how much of me is in you

our bodies

i wish i learnt to embrace the freedom

in the sacrifice of pain

but i kept pain

i was a codepedendant

renfield to dracula

i could tell a million stories

i could've helped many die

because i know whose lives are at the end

i save others from life

but not myself

i stand here alive

guilty and remorseful

and i am empty

i remember what it was like

to feel the purity of love

climb through your spine and

make you whole

but i am so broken

that the meridian is broken

and falls through my gaps

and fall into my bottomless pit

of negative light

nothing lives here

but i

but i remember love

and maybe that is something

but i need a catalyst to my love formula

maybe someone will dare

but i understand

if no one does.

we can burn bright

if we do it together.

how i died and lived

 hi mate.

it's been a while.

guess you watched me grow up

as you stayed 16

where you left me to live where you died

a little bit of me

a horcrux i never wished for.

i bet you have so much to tell me

so much you seethe over.

i bet you are ashamed that i lived this long

sometimes.

because i think sometimes

you could've done it better.

i remember how you used to hold me when i 

couldn't deal with the sunlight

on my tenth day of insomnia

my eyes burnt

and i never burnt under the equatorial sun.

how you came and showed me the black under my table

we crouched there for hours

you and i

words etched on every ikea board seperating us from

total carnage of putting me into the world

together we created the abyssmal bottomless pit we so loved to live in

together.

the trucks never had good enough brakes in malaysia

and one of these days

they will hit me, i had hoped

every time i stepped in front of them

raping purity 

and fucking the world off

for all its hate.

you kept me from the demons

and the crashes

you kept me for yourself

you saved me for your own wish for death.

i remember you sitting with me

our feet dangling over 5 storeys of apartment

ready to fall

never afraid

because death already lay behind us

on the parquet floors of the bedroom

i think our blood is still there

between the gaps

you gave me clarity

i looked at you

bathroom mirror.

you looked at me

and said it's simple. 

turn the tap on and cut a small but deep fucking hole

and down the hole

you will lose your parents and their fucking hatred of each other

of you

of everything good in life

down that hole

you will find life

because this life, the B between A to C

is not worth fucking living at all.

I am at C now.

I still think like that sometimes, but I know it 

is just a memory

it is just you

reminding me, that I can always choose

but I have two dogs, one cat, 3 humans and many more

that i really fucking love

and for the first time in my life

i am scared

of suicide

my best friend, 16 years of age

you saved me

with our death

and sometimes i wish you weren't there.

but i am so glad you are.

because without you

i would be dead.

another fucking one.

 another fucking one.

another chunder of words,

like today's music i no longer listen to

like Rishi's bullshit

another episode.

another blackout, a sky without stars

another night turning into day

another parasitical mental sciatica

she cries, laughs, whispers, shouts, 

screams, breathes, fucks, lives

like me.

down the hole where Layne Staley is still singing

only to me

sitting with the spirits that claim me.

this is a wonderful world

so thin the line to the other side

parallel realities

wrongly wired circuits from

wrongly drafted diagrams to begin with

maybe the wonderful world is all about

creating it new from the mistakes

maybe it just is without mistakes

when does the line shift like tectonic plates

when does the line ever stay solid?

when will i learn to stay behind it

and when i do, am i in the right reality?

the rain pours to the left

and i let myself sway with it

damp, this mind

it collects water

and weighs heavy on my shoulders

holding words that refuse to leave my tearducts

for relief

this mind i called my own

i am the last tenner in a wallet

i am the dust in tobacco pouches

i am the last sip of Jack Daniels

i am the last lickable contents of a bag

i am the hollow inside you.

manchester days

how they fill me with a certain void sometimes

it feels like home

i am genuinely happy here i think

but sometimes

i get lost in all the grey.

she knows the roads and shortcuts well

she knows this city like the back of his hand

until today i still refer to myself in third person

when i am not very proud of the things i have done

it is easier to go through the judgment

the heavy sorrow

the scars i build 

that tattoos cannot cover

the wounds that piercings cannot fill

she looks at me

and i paint her eyes

to hide the shadows behind them.

to want.

 

Fingers shaking
Brain fuzzing
I feel the anger but I'm still stagnant
In my own resistance
I was a warrior and now I am weak
I watch evil slip past my fingers when I could have stopped it passing through by
Simply clenching my fist
I never knew I was so designed
By the social norms and upbringings that never were meant to let me live a life I chose
Because every upbringing is to feed a perfect extortionate system
I was embarrassed for awhile that I believed I was a punk
When I stepped out and stared from the shadows at things unwinding where they shouldn't
I stopped speaking out and I stopped knowing what to say
I forgot my words my brain my self
I left it all behind on a dark alleyway
Some people found my broken pieces and found it worth it to piece me up again
And now I'm whole im still convinced that something's missing because my brain was fixed the same
I hope I will become the person i was when I was 16 again
That girl knew what she wanted and death was the only way to live again
I want to be great in all I do
I want to be the person that gives without losing
I want to take what I know I can take without
Feeling like a thief or taking more than life gave
Who am I to judge
Life gives everything
Who am I to say
I don't deserve any of it?
Maybe I was brought up this way
But there is still space in my empty gaps that will correct this mistake
I don't believe in family because mine was unbelievable
I believe in love and finding love on the way
32 years of age, I still feel like a child
So many things I haven't learnt and never will
I hope I can be my best
Whatever that is
I want to make them smile
I want to learn to truly love with all my heart
Without the social manuals of how it's supposed to be
Because I never will know how it will be
That's the whole point of life isn't it?

hiding tremors

there are days when i unglitch
and today i splice the part of me that stopped writing

my memories become clear in this moment
i take the one wrong turn i should have missed
sending me 10, 692 kilometres back without a u-turn
i see the same damn parquet floors
i bled out on when i chose to die
and chose to live

the last poem i wrote
i wrote for you
but i didn’t let you keep it
undoing in a second every single
thing that poem was meant to save

i guess i disappeared that day and undid myself too
into the abyss of broken egos where love loses her way
and i stayed there where one goes
to put out the light in their eyes for good

the last poem i wrote
i wrote for you
but i didn’t let you keep it
now i stop writing past the fifth line and simply
waste ink
i had words for every feeling
a survival skill
i took for granted
like changing tyres and making a fire
and laughing

i have written myself out of a life that was no longer
mine to live
i am a blank page
a million words unwritten
hiding in a room full of memories and things i never said
my heart races and i am terrified at how empty the gaps look
under a certain light
there is less of me now

these are the days when i spill
over the brim of my mind
like Portuguese garden tanks
and kicked tea glasses
the blanket wound so tight around me
as i try to keep the little left of myself in
and the worst of my memories out

this is the result of giving up
i became the bottomless pit that i once sat in
and maybe it really isn’t such a good idea
to begin casting shadows in the dark

darkness, like the all-enduring poison ivy
parasitic and rooted in deep
climbing from within out
until the pain becomes physical
permanent damage written in code like a hack

these are the days of back-breaking truths

chapels and my mother
corners that reach outside of light
the person that lived in my skin
the past
these are the places i do not look
these are the places fear lives

i fray at the edges and cut the loose ends
but a little more gets taken off with every snip
and somehow i learn that it is love
like i never met
that shows me the needle and thread

these are days that do not blink
and my mind slows as i see
the missing pieces, casualties strewn across the debris of me
what is left of the girl who chose to live
when she chose to die

she reminds me again
the aftermath of pain is still pain

so i smile to myself.

-----

the poem i speak about can be read here:
https://whenyoureyesdontshut.blogspot.com/2017/08/when-hope-starts-to-sing-along-to-your.html

ich hatte genug.

 

there are days like these

grey like ashtray.

no words to explain the complete

dullness of my brain

except the weather pallette these walls keep out.

physically bound and mentally pasted in a world that knows

no other

one that forgets inner warmth 

and bare feet on hot earth.

these placid walls, they echo of me.

i built these walls without a thought,

merely memories that i try to bury into the

cement that holds uneven brickwork.

i was never good at construction

in my years of self destruction.

when i was 16, my heart skipped a beat

and my pulse fell out of time

i guess my life stuttered, shuttered, sputtered

like ket.amine. like clogged fuel tanks.

there are no reasons for feeling like this

so the medical forms remain blank.

the system tires me with its lack of love.

how can we live in harmony

in a discordant system that needs your

full name, date of birth, permanent address

to say you exist - maybe, not even;

all these things they need to know

but no one really knows

who you really are and how you like your cup of tea.

——

people jump in front of trains these days

and the world still turns around the Jubilee and Circle lines.

people who can afford do not give change to homeless old ladies;

people hid behind masks 

long before this sickness, already sick.

i travel miles and learn nothing from these

suits and sullen faces

these police bills and letters of eviction

i learn nothing from the ungiving that reign our every breath.

these days

the air tastes like metal.

i get drunk sometimes

to numb this knowledge.

it doesn’t help.

we dance but nobody dances with us

anymore

the beat echoes into the night

as tired as i am.

every cigarette i smoke begins to bore me

and i cannot find any meaning in what i do sometimes

and hope that i can find meaning in the things i do

for others.

people are scared of a virus

smaller than the virus we already are

we forget purpose;

it is a curse, the new age order.

——

the dog sits on my pain

wanting it to stop.

my fused wires are sparking

the cats sit on those like sponges

trying to put them out.

they try to tell me it is that easy to heal

maybe i just don’t let life be that simple

and remember that i was born with two legs not four,

unfortunately.

this poem is filled with lines i write

without direction

but i just have nothing to send on its way.

——

i break promises with every

line every swig

every prohibited high.

i am always on a prohibited high.

if i’d done things better

it wouldn’t need to be self-prohibited

but instead against my firm decisions.

sometimes it is funny to be alive like this

but it isn’t far from being dead

i always had a dark sense of humour.

the indifference does not scare me

but sometimes i end up the only one laughing.

sometimes i hate having lived past suicide.

the second chance was neccessary

but it can be a burden too heavy

to wear on my skin

and my eyes are tired from watching the world

with these undead eyes.

i wouldn’t trade my world for any else,

but sometimes it feels

like i breathe less air

less life

i lead less purpose.

people care about things that give them substance

where i get none.

i am addicted to how shit i feel

i always have been,

listening to joy division and la dispute

for sheer shits and giggles

my heartbeat is all over the place and i think i have

to live with this

a sidedish of a carwreck hit of cocaine just because.

i get angry with what i choose

and i am living in sin

purely because i decide to.

i am angrier than i love

denying how much love i can feel if 

i let it in.

it only makes sense

that i have always made mistakes

selfish pain,

fucking typical.

i try to write like i once did

kidding myself that i can live in the present

on the script of a rewrite.

the darkness is different now

it is no longer bottomless and more peripheral.

it is in the lingering hangovers and

things i have not done

it lives in the moments i do not love

the darkness is no longer

all-encompassing but within

i feed it without resistance, and 

this scares me.

it is in the nights i lie awake 

listening to the washing machine giving up

screaming in my head so loud 

the cats hear it.

i drink more

wanting this to stop

i have problems i do not face

everyone around me seems okay

so i accept that i have nothing to change.

hitler pandemics

masked realities.

everyone around me seems okay with this

but i am not.

holocaust stupidity

news of afghanistan like ten years ago on repeat

everyone says it is terrible

sitting before their televisions

saying there will be a revolution

that will never happen

because sitting before televisions

will never start riots that gives

the new police bill a run for.

apparently my friend died from this virus

but his death statistic is the real virus

i do not believe his death is justified

and his life will not be remembered,

only his death stamped and sealed and sent off to the government

as another tragic pandemic victim.

fucking cunts.

the world that has given in to this manipulation

will never recover from this virus

nor ever be immune

the world now spins on a web of oppresion

that will only grow further

than the punks have stopped it.

you will be wrong for not believing

you will be wrong for having your own mind

you will be wrong.

we are wrong now, for this world.

the world was for us now the world is for them

and we do not fit anymore in its pockets.

pockets of love, with gaping holes.

i guess we have to learn to teach love

on a needle and thread

badges and patches

music and mushrooms.

i believe my submission to love

is the biggest dominance.

——

my poems were never high

they were sober, drunk, never high

low as the deepest parts of the ocean

maybe pain does disappear

maybe it doesn’t

i haven’t quite figured that out yet.

i learnt to smile when i hurt the most and now i hurt less

but i rarely smile

and it all seems random

pain is random, i suppose

but so very, very there.

sometimes i think i have cured myself

and this is all an act

but acts do not leave you sweating in bed

and screaming inside when all is quiet.