pain

the moths are fluttering in the pits of my body
and i try to decipher the flap of every
crushed, grey wing
but i comprehend nothing of this
empty
bland emotion.

i see the pain in her eyes
reflecting mine
for i am unable to make her heal
and i feel insignificant in a life
too full to hold
an overflow like me.

the time is ticking
and i can sense an overwhelming air of
an end i try to run from but-
i try to run but i cannot seem
to set myself free.

the cold water fills my lungs
i try to drown away all i feel
and all of me
but i gasp for breath
because i am not meant to leave this way.

i am full of regrets
and hold in my hands
a clench i never let loose
because i am a burden stuffed sore
written halfway and crumpled
into piles of torn paragraphs of an
incomplete tale.

lost prescriptions

i find myself staring at
sharp corners and razor blades again
wishing on a dead sky
and crying out to nothing.

i feel bruised inside, sore and aching
heavy from thoughts that paint
fake smiles on my lips
a block of dark that
damages the shine of my laugh
the mass of clogged up memories that
linger behind my eyes,
burnt red and swollen
from choking restraint.

i am shivering again
with incomprehensible chills
at the back of my head
and it takes the voice
of those who have seen
the ruins of my heart
to bring the burning pain
pouring out from my skin

i repeat to myself
before a stale mirror
that i am strong
and i can find my freedom
but i am forever caged
within myself
and my loss of sanity

blank spots

gestures spark pitch black
and screech
incoherent words
into the blank of my
bleached
rusted soul

i feel.

i feel.

i feel nothing.

saluting the darkness

the devils whisper nightmares
into the strands of my hair
and the white of my eyes
rolled shut and blind

and i awake from a nightmare
falling into another
like a wave that meets no shore
one more twist of
sweat stained
torn sheets
soaked with pain and
aching restraint

i converse with a world of
bane, pierced and crushed
deflated of all crisp and cornered memories

devils, they whisper
they scrape into the beads of my minds
stretching me awake
with a scream that etches a
blackhole
in the light of the world

chipped

the trickles of heavy sighs escape
and i am pounding my fists on the
soft
of my thigh
searching for an emotion to latch on
and finding none.

the silhouettes of desperate fingers
clenching.clenching.clenching
i don't know what the fuck i am doing
but i don't feel lost
because confusion
is where my home is -
a warm feeling that clogs my breath
and taints the unsteady beating
of an old heart exhausted

rusted and misused.

welcome to a night of clarity
where all is murky
and my mind is stale.

chemicals & sharp objects

i pick on a tender part of inner skin
flush it with a wash of ink
hearing voices i do not recognize
yet feel at an odd sense of clarity

i have been to this phase of
self enclosure many times before
yet i have never felt this real;
stagnant and disguised
a face you remember only
for tunnel eyes and bitten lips

i play games with my mind and
fool myself a million times
by saying
i am feeling alright, just alright
even when i am
cringing at my own voice and
fuming at the multiple fuses i light
within the center of my heart
where veins are black
and joy is short-lived.

i would love to seal my lips
and never utter another
and never hear the sounds of things i despise
cracking a million mirrors along the way
to hide my crumbling features

shards of a broken soul

i have toxic running through my body
my mind is clear
and i smile a genuine smile
after a thousand broken eyes
and charred lips.

i am no longer the one
with a soul that reaches out
and cures the wounds under my skin
nothing more than a
tangled reel of broken cassettes
and tainted plastic bags
in the corner of the street
unnoticed and torn.

intoxication is sweet when
you don't wake up
and face a life the sun has turned
away from
since the day the moon collapsed
and burned down the
thousand stars upon my fingers

tasting iron

when i spend hours doing nothing but
write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and andwritendachewriteandwrahehchewith -

i take on a role possessed by
self-aroused demons
calling out familiar sounds that
pick on my nerves and distort my reflections
like a memory once washed away
creeping over me just to watch me
curl up
in attempt to sleep
because i feel

lost and hopeless and empty
and dark and dirty and
in pain.


... and i honestly cannot be fucked to stay awake
anymore.

the other side of

the midnights of clumped thoughts
revisit with sharp grips
like iron fire and salted wounds.

i am left with a finger pressing down on scorched throats and screaming pain, my heart pounding to no rhythm for me to live on and i reminisce on serenity but drift on states of daggers that cut through me like awkward atmosphere every time i turn around expecting a smiling memory but find only nothing

staring back.

//

i take two turns around death
like it had never left the line on my skin
screeching to explode and
reignite that thirst for
blank spots
i once possessed and drowned

with it, i left the part of me
that never learnt to float

i try my best to fit in the background
where all is still
and all is vast
but there is no space for a
mind this jagged and
out of place

i do try to make it
i do try

i do try to make it better
but things still hurt
and there's nothing i can do about
the fucking pain

//

i try to control the way i speak
i try to remain
significant to where i stand
in my life


but the midnights return and swallow me whole into a twisted hole of empty air except this time the black of it is a dense collective of strangled voices choking and cold and i am not ready for this anymore.

//

mother, it is too soon
stay stay stay stay stay
there are spaces in my heart i sacrifice
for you
and you have not kissed me goodnight
since the day i tried to
kill myself

//

my nails are a funny shape and colour
but it does not make me laugh
because my habit
of biting nails when i feel without
is now a daily hourly minutely routine

and there are still days
when i want to rip my wrist out
and count the layers of skin
that saved my life


just to spite myself

//

there are those who
teach you how to sew your heart shut
by attempting first
to break it

the first who does it
will always succeed and
the manipulation smashes you through
you believe it'll never repeat
and it never does
but the pain is constant
because it is after the second
when you begin to lose
passion
and gain a cold flicker
on the shine of your glance

and you take on a different smile
and a different laugh
and a different mask

//

i can not dare
to stand for peace
the wars raging in my mind
is where it all begins
without freedom inside
i will never be free

//

these midnights
are the nightmares i skipped
from twitching my fingers and
learning to hold my breath
out of water

and it was my second take around death
when i realized the midnights
never leave
because the dreams you forget
take detours and come back as reality.

//

lumiere

we look up to the same skies
and the distance fades with every
lightning bolt
crashing into empty spaces of our thoughts
as we slither into each other's dreams
praying for a miracle
we can't find in our own
because we have run out of hope

there is a thin line that separates
a touch of the hand
and fluctuating heartbeats that hold
a million messages that we
every so often might stumble upon
and decipher
past the border with a taste
of a sweet sort
on the tip of our tongues

we look up to the same
shade of sunset
listening to our hearts rise
as we fall in love again
with the broken little pieces
we hold in our hands
of a world so easy to get lost in
yet so easy to find our way back
to the place above
a line that taught us to reach out
when we run out of hope
and there is somebody there
waiting

heavings of a screaming heart

three lines down the page expressing
certain miniscule actions
that replace colossal pieces of my life
and scare me to think of choices

i blink away the blurred visions of dandelions
flying askew, crashing hard onto the surface of my cheek
burning me with a thousand unanswered thoughts
because chances are,
i never notice the way i move
in my sleep compared to a time
when i lay still and curved
inwards
eyes blank wide distant.

and the burden of different lives i could've lived
stand tiptoed on my shoulder blades
piercing through my physicality and
pulling down my mind

an orchestral mass of confusion and
terror
creating the notes to a suicide song

vanishing act

there are cracks we look through
for a better view
the window too easy, too clear
a way,
we search time and time
for simplicity but
always prefer the complications.

there are cracks we place our lips on
to intake a whiff of the
fresh air beyond
because things on our side
always seem too choked
too full of
our own creations
and we try to
escape
always running
and never stopping
as if there is nowhere
in the million spaces
for us to hide

there are cracks inside us
some bigger than others
from where we never seem to heal
to heal from pain
like a drug
it feeds on our life
like a drug
and we accept it

there are cracks we look through
and smell the fresh air
from time to time
we break ourselves into a million
just to find a crack big enough to
swallow us hole and
watch us disappear

shorthand

we tipped our glasses of
red hope and clarity
chugging down what was once
sweet
turned sour
like life on speed; on
drugs that paint mirages in our minds
and feign a reality

i write short poems nowadays
because some things are too precious
to elaborate on.

luminous

My lips have held a million unspoken words

and a taste of pain

slithering through my throat

teaching me how to control my breathing.

I have suffered a sunrise that burnt through my eyelids

and surged to my heart like a

runaway train with nowhere to crash,

a gaping hole

.nicotine

i denied the way my hands felt like

dry leaves

how the veins on my neck ached from screaming

and attempting to swallow light

to make myself believe i can be

fluorescent like swimming

pools and happiness

when all this while

i was nothing but

a forgotten street lamp

on the brink of life,

too bright to look at

but burnt black inside.

my sky

it takes a while for life to settle back

into ripples of calm and visions

of beauty

after the shatters of a personal hurricane

my shatters of personal hurricanes.

there was a person who inspired my pain

who taught me to love

and taught me to die

and the inspirations were hell to obtain

the point where my expressions

turned dark blue

lurid and choked.

i stand now

with two fingers on my lips

my mind at wander

searching for the miniscules of reason i can

latch on to and have myself feel like

i can once more open my heart to hope

and light, and unfold the pages of my thoughts

to stop myself from crumpling.

but i am still afraid of stars

and the meaning they once held

afraid

that i will fall again for their

blinding light and find myself

under lightning.

the scariest part is when i begin to smile at thunder

screeching in my ear

because it is therapeutic

to my own demise.

cigarette hearts

i've got life between my fingers
and breath clogged with
chained frustration
thoughts staining every scar darker on my skin

the only thing between me and the world
are two cigarettes and an ashtray
self lit in the dark, sparks
crashing into ground.

i set myself free with twenty
a day, sometimes overdosing on
rushestomyhead to stop
myself feeling sane because
sane is another meaning of pain

- and i am through with that.

the day i ignited life
between my lips
and embraced death with past inflictions.

catharsis

thoughts that linger on pillowcases

clogged and tried

of days when things were blurred

significance

the nights that never gave me chance

to breath

it is relief that washes over me

when i no longer find

descriptions that fit

and your name tastes

foreign

to my tongue a language

forgotten

your memories unrehearsed

the playbacks in my mind are stagnant

but no longer haunting

and for the first in a while

i learn to embrace reality

because it pulls away all the

pain

i endured for you

replacing instead

a new mind;

less dangerous less

fragile

less choked.

seizure

glitter dreams

starlight on my skin

as i lay fluorescent

wide eyed

breathing underwater and

learning how to count on

stagnant stars

because you're only lucky enough

to ever see seven shooting stars

once in your life

that night

i was ethereal

with seven wishes to hope upon

yet stand today

knowing none came true

days when

i wake up to heavy sounds

like i am floating

because something inside me

is being sucked out

sucked in?

miniature objects

that stun me

like a secret smile

like a secret

yelling in my ear

teaching me to stay silent

even though my heart

is screaming for air

screaming for air

like stale suffocation

nineteen days

cracked lips.

a faint flicker of shine

leaking through the webs of my mind.

littlethoughts.littledreams.little

blatant and tempting

like frivolous passion under clouded

stars and puntured moons

where there is no space for me

to breath.

curved in.

warm and safe

a body, an artwork

eyes of daylight and

lips of a religion i conjured from my

heart.

they are strange words

but familiar to a dream long forgotten

a beautiful dejavu.

cracked in.

curved lips.

whisper.

3 lines

I try to say things

but it is difficult when you are

colliding with emotions that confuse.

a dream that loved me

the waking dream that found the glitter

in my eyes and kissed the tangles of

alcohol staining the roots of my hair

the dream that planted a mark on my body

like a white flower in a garden of green.

fluttering above me like a halo

leaving tingles on my neck and

whispers on my ears, a hot breath that never fades

it was a dream that taught me passion

and grew on the tip of my lips

as it kissed me under the rain

and told me to stand for who i am.

fresh air;

an escape from the nightmares i lived,

a hand that found my sensitivity

and caressed my weakness, telling me

a biggest secret,

feeding me strength and leaving sweet

aftertastes in the center

of my body

warm and whole

a dream i will wake up from

and smile at the memories

when they revisit

every once in a while.

alone in a square box

my breathing is loud,

a condition one would relate to

anxietyangerinsanitypain.

i name it a condition because

it arrives unwanted

and i hate people i truly love;

uncalled for,

like accidents in the middle of the night.

i like to talk to myself, as if

i am

the rest of the world,

regretting my good intentions

that led to the loss

of control and fear

of tasting solitude

- though i spend many conscious nights

alone

because

alone

i sense myself

coming back to

life

.and the blindlights hitting me as i stand up too quickly

is beautiful.

there are those who make things better

yet they are them

that make things worse

all the same.

i forget the meaning

of letting myself feel

happy.

everything is around me

i feel heavy

standing by myself.

the first

raw skin underwater.

a pain that reflects

catharsis

momentary scrapes of hurt that

paints my picture

spells my life

until it fades.

escaping my fingertips,

it is a second of

letting strength escape me

and the past foil me

but i am done with facing

the same page of my

clustered, depressed thoughts.

i am ready to take one step away

from carnage

and leave the burn that once

scarred decay on me.

will you trace my steps

and lead me through

my holocaust?

will i drown?

i speak to nobody

and somebody replies.

flourescent

my first cold blink of bare truth

when everything fell into reality

took place in the air

where clouds beneath me

gave way

and sent me headfirst

towards gravity.

this is the part when

you lose your right to dream.

every wash of hard, icy life

drowned me in a pitfall of dull

colours that never seemed

to fade,

the hideous artwork of my mind.

i am like the sky

churning towards dark

swallowed in behind the grey

taints blanking out

the rainbows and

taste like afterlife.

the rain is singing

a beautiful pain i can understand.

one a day

it is only because

the whole world goes still

and i can hear my thoughts

slither into place and

feel at ease

just for a while,

watching my breath form

unspoken words

soaring into the sky

until the last of the ashes

explode on the surface of reality

and create heavy, uneasy sounds

of my mind

waking up.

alone in a smoking room.

there is life between my fingertips

and a hole in my heart

for a million seconds it is as if

i can hear beneath the silence

the trickle of light

escaping

with every swirl

of translucent

whispers

with every sigh i

outtake.

i find myself standing in a field

where no one can watch me

as i learn how to take

self-taught lessons

step by step

in healing motion.

i open my eyes

and put out the momentary hiss of

existence-

i am still alone but

reeking in a box of smoke

and feeling

indifference.

a journey to an end.

i wake up to bad dreams; i am trying to run away but i meet ten thousand obstacles in my ten thousand thoughts.

nightmares are like second nature to reality. i am driving towards a far away land and it is meant to be escape

mystical like secret windows and time warps but the smithereens of doubt tell me it is not -

this is stone cold reality swallowing me in.

i see an empty road filled with empty hopes and suddenly it is hard to breath, i am plunging forward with an

unpleasant speed. i leave a certain part of myself behind hoping that i can one day turn back and

recollect.

i hope to breathe in a militude of life and perhaps capture the beauty of cherishing heartbeats beneath my chest. i

take flight with a blank shard in me and for a second, i forget my name, drunk with a depression of slurred thoughts

and twisted guts inside of me.

let me fly.

set me free.

alone at 2.42

i like the feeling of bedsheets on my naked skin

lying coiled in self protection

in nothing but my underwear

where no one is watching

and no one can hear me breath, where

no one can hear me scream

i feel free

yet i feel

empty

like an abandonned house

filled with dangerous

unwanted spirits.

hand me a bucket of wet cement

before i crack again.

dead cells

i.

i found ways to let things

flutter and sink into peepholes of

silence

where thoughts barred away

can only glimpse at minds

they used to haunt.

but i forget how thoughts

can gnaw through the thickest skin

and knock me off balance as they

slither back in

as i try to heal.

i am left scraping for surface

as i drown with the piranhas

of my mind.

ii.

it is a blurred vision

fogged by disregard and

several attempts succeeded in moving

forward. but blurred visions

still hurt my eyes and

much more

because they paint pictures

of a past when i knew

i would one day be

where i am today.

i didn't try to stop

because nothing scared me more

than this happening much sooner;

because back then

i stopped counting on hopes

and forgot how to breath.

it is an eternal burn that leaves a hole

in your soul

when you finally gasp for air

and realize you are

immune to life.

iii.

there is nothing worse than movie finales

that do not leave significance

and that is why i wish for

a horrible ending

to contradict everything before

because the storyline would've at least

been worth going through.

but wishes are only for the lucky ones

even if they wish for disasters.

our ending was miniscule

compared to the ten thousand aches

and mental ills that grew beneath

the unsteady skin of my mind

leaving trails on the smooth of my wrist.

we would've been the worst film ever made

because nothing but the 'making of'

was worth enough

to go through what i did.

iv.

regret is a harsh word.

i use it all the time

when i think of how much

i could've changed

to better situations.

i will ponder until the word

is no longer a word

and scrapes into me like

rust, like fucking tasteless emotions.

v.

i am like the child

with down syndrome

the one everybody tries not to pity

yet are unable

to neglect the distortions

oozing from my body like gutter juice.

i learned from the best in lying

and now spend hours in front of the mirror

practising fake smiles

and enthusiastic expressions

just to bluff the world into believing

the mask is the truth.

i can travel alone to far away lands

and walk under lightning storms

without wincing

yet i shudder because of

certain, revisiting memories

and the ghost of what was once

watching the change i have inflicted

upon myself.

dah

It is a fault I live with

for falling in love,

a fault I take to bed and

hold onto for dear life.

I still count the many time I

stayed up wishing on

dead stars and blank

skies,

I flew with wings

without repair

believing miracles could

still save me.

It is a fault I carry like heavy sighs and

anchors stuck in

thickdirtymud

and it doesn't matter because

we are now gone.

It doesn't matter now that

things have

shattered

like pieces of me

and pieces of you.

welcome to the apocalypse

Decay in my mind
I am searching for distance but
things that are
unreachable takes effort to
touch
unwanted desires
that are unthinkable
unbelievable

I want to separate from this
but things attached
takes pain to tear apart
like skin and
bones like emotions like
life

I want to be gone
when the world collapses
so I will not be just
another segment of debris
clawing to be found.

Death is a bitter taste I can't spit out
nor swallow in
to the pit of my thoughts.

breathing

the pain recollects behind my eyes

and waste away;

frozen tears for somebody undeserving

of the extent

of intense emotions i puke out

for you.

i read poetry similar to mine

and feel the sharp of your memory

stick into places tender from

abandonment;

a heart i refused to touch

ever since you failed to fix

but succeeded in tearing it

into a project of your own;

lungs i have forgotten to care for

but merely fill with choked up

feelings clinging to smoke and

filth.

i intended to numb the bitter wounds

ripping apart with every breath

but the sickly cluster of your

shameless words and

everything else i swallowed

still burn me like

a rotten carcass.

there are still days when i ponder on

alternatives

to this mess i built as

protection,

and figure out

no matter what i choose

i am still

already gone.

and so are you.

world records

there is a clamp in my head

tightening for what seemed like weeks

and will continue for remaining days

until i reach the second my heart and soul

turns one year old.

it feels like an egg cracking, these

unwanted, murky, irksome feelings

leaking through me

spilled and unable to fix

as the day edges closer

and closer

and closer

like reverse, a reverse effect back to

when i died and was reborn

as nothing; a blank paper, torn and crumpled.

one year ago.

-

feels like quite a while now,

many things i have forgotten beyond

that night

except the incidents that led me

to living this new, semi-unwanted life.

recycled.

i partially enjoy it

the new lengths i push myself through

measuring how hard my cover is

and the lowest temperature of my heart;

the many times i can look at my arm

without crumbling.

-

i took a huge risk allowing the wounds

to be wiped clean

knowing from then on,

they will never heal, dirty as ever,

and will never heal

and i could no longer live the way i did

because i woke up the next morning

with no recognition of life

and its definitions.

i started from scratch

without a purpose or a scrape of hope

screaming for some incomprehensible need;

no one understands the language

of a newborn.

one year ago.

-

i am breaking my own world record by:

:testing my limits.

:raging multiple wars within myself.

it was always a war between peace of mind and pain,

but fighting for peace never really works, even in the news.

:lastly, having two birthdays to celebrate.

one for my life and

one for the loss of it.

the city is hollow

back to a coldness where

lights shine empty

and stars are replaced by the

clog of smoke

and empty air

where things remain choked

and there is no place for release

no wind to chill and

excite

no trace of freedom

no space to breath

nowhere to claim eternity

i stare out at blocks of

man-made construction

material things

we can lose

scents that pass

and never linger

prodding like painful memories

it is a city of

reality

no place for dreams and

no place for somebody

like me

Three Cigarettes

i get scared. my lungs

clog up

and i forget how to breath

for a second.

moments when i wake from

hiding the small of you

and your inflictions that taste

permanent

pretending i am finally

finally

finally-

it all aches again

i forget to look at the time

because the date looks

foreign

and unexpected.

knowing everything is moving fast

whilst i am too slow

is no comfort,

reminding me again

of how i have forgotten

how to press play

after i had paused

at the scary part

to refrain from screaming.

it hurts to see new faces

replace what was once-

it hurts to see everything

go

but i.

me and my forever memories.

it was like somebody else

tried to move on for me,

branching out a whole new world

before my eyes

when i still had them shut,

to hide

to protect myself from

the accidental babies of my mind

that will never grow me

a new life.

big giants

it is a brittle and deep ache

injected in me, a feeling i

involuntarily succumb to

because of the many times i look up

towards the eternal and find

a blank stare returning my gaze.

nobody but i will comprehend

how much i have tried to perfect

the circle of all the hope i had in me;

they said circles are better shapes

because they are harder to break

but nobody ever told me

how hard it was to mend one

already cracked.

it is as if the whole world is

crumbling at my fingertips

and the disaster is too beautiful to fix

so i resolve to sitting back

and learning how to let it eat me up

without feeling the blow

when i hit rock bottom.

new and familiar

the feelings are unreal.

they taste like the past

and ache like a thousand years

i am trying to stay strong

but there is no strength in

tearing up at every glance

and every precious breath.

i hear time fleeing.

stay.

please stay.

mother

there are things i wished i could've done

at a time when i was much stronger

than this

like hug you

and say you are the most

i have ever been given

and the fights were only lessons

to learn from.

but i am now at the peak of falling

and i

do not have the guts, i stutter

trying to say i care

and i really, really, really

hate

myself for all the moments you spend alone

aching over my words

because i know how it feels

aching over yours.

i was, in your eyes,

as precious as my favourite home-made soup

you'd make when you had enough strength

but you are, in my eyes,

- though i may never dare

to tell you this -

golden.

like every breath you take

when you are sleeping soundly

because i am safe beside you

watching.

distractions

there are no more poems that make them

smile, no more words that

flow from my mind to exert

some sort of sweetness that show people

how happy i am

because i am not happy

as simple as that.

i am now at that stance where i

result to

drawing squares on my deodorant bottle

and making beautiful faces on brochures

ugly

with permanent markers

because the thoughts crowd in

in.in.in

until i have to find a way

out.

recollection

i am frightened by those who

talk to their reflections

or the palm of their hands

certain scars they try to scare

away

because it reminds me too much

of a person living inside me.

i predict a death by lightning

because i am used to having things i find

most precious

kill me.

i try to push in the cutthroat

emotions that haunt the

messages my mother forgot to erase from her phone

sent between those who were

at a time

fighting to protect and

keep intact a girl who crumbled at the sides.

you do not need to believe in

timewarps and

magic machines to see a picture perfect

vision as clear as stark light

of what used to be.

one nightmare is all it takes

for the deepest memories to resurface.

like a tear

one.

i was once told i have a thousand faces

so i try to have a million personalities

in order to distract them

from noticing

the one permanent feeling i can never change;

the one lump of frozen emotion at the pit of my heart

weighing me down and

painfullyslowly

digging open a hole i once

managed to heal with

ice and solidity.

it is an uncanny feeling

at the tip of my stare

as they walk past me hand in hand

like a monochromatic thought. Without

a care in the world, their happiness

drowned me

with questions as to

why

i never could keep the life of such smiles

in between our hands,

before, when i had all the care

in the universe

to try.

two.

i am aware of a self-wounded tangle

i dwell between

but it is a comfortably

numbing realization

that no one else but i

can create such an extent of pain

to myself, now.

i am my own freedom

i am my own cage

there are sleepless nights

etched beneath my eyelids and

torture streaked across the way i

stare at spots for too long

every other ten seconds.

three.

i conjure with every blink of my eye

an artwork of pain

and it becomes more vivid

and much more tasteless

with every exhausted breath:

faded memories of a face familiar

who once stuffed so much into her heart

she forgot how to exert

the glow on her cheeks and sparkles from

her pupils that would

trickle down from

the deepest feeling within her

like a tear.

photographic smiles

i stop in the center of catastrophe

breathing in the stench of failure

capturing in the palm of my hand

the halt of a future

i once saw so clearly

but now cannot find.

there are a million shards of glass

reflecting my torn

rippedandslashed state of

being

and i cannot hold on to the passing of time

the passing of life

a proportion of stashed away

soul

shouts for my recognition but

i cannot hear what can perfect

a long ruined situation

i call myself

it is not easy picking up the pieces

that taste like smithereens and look like

nothing.

my mind is dead

and it is not for long

before i blind myself with

a colourless truth

that perhaps i am not as great

as i hoped to be

because greatness became

non-existent ever since the day i

picked up a razor blade

and smiled at it.

it is a cruel world

with no place for me.

welcome home

i cannot deal with the numerous repetitions

of me breaking down and

always having somebody

pull me out before i could

taste the full plunge into depression.

selfish

gross

ungrateful

i could find a thousand adjectives to

suit me.

it is a sick mind i own

one of black paint and

gruesome stories of

a dying soul named after me.

crashing through a world of coincidences and

timing

i found a world where everything i do

affects more than just pain

and ruin;

a direction i cannot stray from.

i miss touching the bottom -

at least i was certain of my situation, then

a comfortable relief of

tasting the dirt of the dark on every

internal scab i owned.

the repeated nights of

wishing for the moment when i was

sprawled across the floor

tasting the end

kills

but i prefer keeping the routine to myself

because pity is not the best gift

they give

and i hate those eyes that watch me

knowing me more

than i know myself.

there are many ways i can

escape all this

but none are possible without me

knowing where i stand;

without the certainty of place

how will i know where to move from?

the seventeens

There is the hollow taste at the back of my tongue

centered with bitterness

the taste of cigarettes and a long gone pain

revisiting like the after-

taste of pepsi

minus the sweetness/add the tendency to

dry up the length of your throat like

a gasp of fresh anger.

It is a song I can't erase from

because the lines are punched in like

memories of a story I tried to end

but ran out of strength to

along the way so I

let it be with a trail of ink and

torn out pages of a once favourite chapter,

things I pray will fade

things I know will never

fade, eventually.

And I taste the chill of

a restrained tear on the

graze of my cheek

like the finality of what I have once again become.

Weak.

no blankets

the plaster on her index finger

is a clasp of smoke

a familiar scent of

settling calmness;

an aftermath of an aftermath

when pain no longer feels like pain

but a habitual routine

of sleeping without blankets

because they no longer hold protection.

there are pieces of leftover thread

from attempts to

sew herself whole

a 1000 bruises beneath her spine

the cause and effect of

straightening herself out.

the flamboyant scars etched like artwork

but she feels bland like paper

but bland is better

for one night of nothing is heaven

considering the other 364 waking nightmares

she now knows by heart

and can tell you how many times

she will scream the following night

muted.muted.

an explosive mind.

there are pieces of leftover thread

from attempts to

sew herself whole

but the neat lines of

her self-perfection

are nowhere insight.

a slit in the mask

there are days when i want to

eat my guts;

days when i need to regurgitate

but the words take too much

to push through my throat

so they stop midway and

ruin my appetite.

it is terrifying when the feelings

remain frozen at the

wrench of my heart

despite the number of times

i change my hairstyle

or scene

or friends

or way of living

like a permanence i try to rub off

until it becomes an obvious scar

i try to hide

with bracelets

tattoos;

layers

and layers

and layers

of cover.

an end

the unhealthy hollowness under my throat

absorbs every dry breath I take

searching for a taste that is not there;

I have run out of substance

and ink-

hmm.

every intake is stale

the aftermath of yesterdreams

that leave me swallowing

and biting hard on nothing.

pain.

like a fingernail ripped apart

too close to the skin

raw like an ugly, unholy, filthy truth

i-

I miss writing about nothing

and everything

forgetting how it started

making up how it ends

as I tumble along

because things that don't exist

(yet)

are the best to alter,

like life before it went

terribly wrong.

like a beginning.

tearing the nightsky down

she used to stand beneath gray skies

with glitter in her eyes and stars in her smile,

a round locket of happiness tight

to her chest, where no one could touch

which no one could falter,

she was the glow in the dark,

an everlasting surge of

pure joy.

there were miniscule things, yes,

that would loosen her smile, but never did she

lose her appetite for laughter

and laughter was forever in reach,

until he came plunging through her heart

with a chainsaw of rage and his

inhuman darkness broke her into

pieces of

self destruction and distrust.

there were many things that led her to

a depression that tasted like knives and

ripped like dark red wounds

but only one tipped her

too far. Until now,

she cannot recall reasons to why

she had woken up one day

with scars on her arms and the taste

of nothing

at the back of her throat.

precise images of him playing about

in the hemorrhages of her mind.

it was a desperate attempt, there after,

of searching for laughter and forcing glitter

into her eyes until she went blind

to reality,

and all the while he loomed above,

chainsaw in hand, ready

to ruin every hole in her heart

he pretentiously tried to show

he could heal.

and then he was gone.

but she was here, still,

searching, ploughing through memories

of a long gone euphoria,

when she used to wake up to a small piece of heaven.

and she is still here,

no more glitters in her eyes

newfound chills in her smile,

trying to find perfect excuses to fit

a shattered locket of what was once -

to reason out why she is now this way.

everythingbuthimeverythingbuthim

because he is the one memory

she wants to forget, but the one memory

unforgettable,

and she denies, how one memory is sometimes

all you need, enough to burn

brighter than the sun

and make her as gray as the skies

that once bowed to her shine.

destructconstruct

hail storms in my mind

a thousand stones of frozen thoughts

plummeting

never melting

stagnant in the ice-box of

a forever perturbance

i collect broken liquid of

what was once a whole reflection

of me

trying to hold on

trying to hold on

but they aways seem to slip away

a simple science i cannot face

the air tastes different now

warm and moist on the graze of my cheek

a touch of something worse

much worse than before

when all was rain

and thunder

drenching me until i was too weak

to break

and my lungs gave in

and i succumbed to my state of humanity

clean air

my ribs ache with a certain pseudo

an unseen pain that engulfs me

and blinds me from every other

pounding.slicing.tightening pain

i feel

when i am physically fine -

but i am never physically fine, really,

my mental state

a solid block of weight

heavy.

heavy.

heavy.

i clench my fists and hold my breath

wondering what has happened.

these minutes, precious minutes

when i wake up and see a life

i no longer recognize -

yet live it anyway

for there are no other reasons

for me to

fall back to.

it is this realization

as clear, as stark as

an afternoon sky burning me dry

that pulls me back to the rest of the hours

when i am consumed in a self-created

slumber where everything just...

goes.

broken promises to self

it has now been 225 days

of remembering the numbers

the alphabets, the full name,

his full name,

the dates, the places, the moments

when everything felt right

when everything was, in fact,

wrong

since the start.

225 days of midnight consciousness

where i crawl back in to hide

from you, the pain and the unwanted thoughts of -

it is now 225 days from the day i realized i will

have to learn to live with

broken pieces of a strength

once mine, now tattered

and briskly patched together.

i still spend every pending day retrieving

shards of a broken heart i shattered and

threw to the world like ashes of

a loved one

because it was a precious loss

i couldn't stand to keep inside me

it has now been 225 days

of avoiding certain places, people

lyrics of a song

because things are just different now,

simply said.

self-discovery

my hands are cold.

it is an ephemeral feeling

of turning to stone.

emotionless. empty.

a weird sort of free.

i clench my fists,

embracing the cold on my fingertips

and thank god for plunging me into darkness.

i accept this side of me

though no one else does.

the hurt will fade, they say

but healing is no longer my attempt.

i legalize this pain

as cold as the palm of my hands

that never receive enough bloodflow.

i am a new me

unsure of who i am

but sure of a situation

i know i will never escape from.

waking up from suicide

the wound becomes a part of you

raw.

you sting and hurt

a cut open and drying into ugly, infected scabs.

nobody will know because they will tell you

to hide them scars away

so you hide yourself away.

the world is red

and you open your eyes to

a different life;

months hence

you will look back and

wonder where the old you went

now replaced without a soul

that once lit you from within

and taught you to live.

because being saved against your will

is a torturing way to take in

another breath.

the only explanation to who i have become.

foreigner

it is not easy to fake a smile

like before,

and everyone can see this now.

i ask for isolation, but

i hate it.

it is like the darkness in the middle of a street

when you can't see anything

but around you is

everything.

i forget reasons to make myself

believe it is easy

to forgive the things i have done.

i accept that life went wrong.

and just like every candle flame,

it will burn out and run dry

sooner or later.

un coeur a paris

it is strange when that song plays again,

when i'm there again, in the place i escaped to for a

badly needed solitude away from him.

strange how it brings back reminiscents of me

trying to remember how i was like

before him,

so i didn't have to cope with how i was like

after him,

the one who slips continuously in and out of

reminiscents of what happened when i was

with him.

some people say listening to heartbreak songs

make you cry,

but i don't find the need to cry over

a heart already broken

for i've cried enough over

a heart breaking

and the songs only remind me of how much

time i wasted

trying to mend myself -

i was never good at stitching.

when you have no other choice but

to step into an unwanted time warp

all you've got to do is hold on to the

present,

remembering, unlike back then,

that you always have another place

to fall back into

if things get horrid.

stabilize

my emotions are unreal

you never see me cry with a cigarette in hand

i always have a cigarette in hand.

controlled desire

controlled pain.

it is an agony that hits me like

nicotine rush.

pure.vibrant.cleansing.

many things meet my eye

from within me like catharsis

i am afraid of many things

the strong face i master is an ugly disguise

and afraid of many things

it is an agony that pulls me -

wakes me from the false visage

of life people dream about.

my dreams are the only reminders

that i am still human enough

but my emotions are unreal.

midnight, again

the world evolves around

figments

of seconds where we don't know

what we're looking for.

the steady eyes, they falter me.

i feel bare

like a single star exposed

on the expansion of a neverendingsky.

this is the passing of time

that determines my distraught

distressed

state of mind.keep me calm. keep mecalm. keep me. keepcalm.

i fall in

i crawl back to my self contructed

wall

walls

walls. fucking walls.

i feel blind i feel empty

walls that leave me with nothing to hold onto.

i do not want to live this but i do not want to leave this.

valentine thoughts

i feel safe and i can breath

for i don't have to pretend my head

is not pounding

for it is another moment

when i peek at the clock

and realize i was feeling special

this exact moment -

365 days ago

and the specific playbacks

flash inside me like

horror flicks.

now things are just empty and i feel safe

because i don't have to spend this year's today

trying to put effort in making someone feel special

when i am not special enough to do that.

i maintain my stand-still

believing this is

the best choice for me

because any other decision will hurt me

and nothing can hurt if you're emotionless.

but it is hard to be emotionless.

i look at a photo now in the place

of the one we had 365 days ago

with the sickening nostalgia

filling my head and i ask myself

if you bought her a rose

like you did me

365 days ago.

and i ask myself if

months from now you'll still be drawing hearts

on her face

without breaking the one inside her

because you know it is for you only

i ask myself if

months from now you would love her

for who she was

because you know what you did

and perhaps -

perhaps

you are conscious of the girl you once broke and

left to waste

and realize how much you need to fix

to become a better person

now.

cutting pages

The days are timeless again.

It is no longer only midnights that

hit me with a cold stab,

every second prolonged

like phlegm spit out.

I cannot stand reliving this

pain

I cannot stand

reliving nightmares I tried to bury

with reality

but this is reality

it always was.

I fall back into the lack

of self consciousness

where I forget it is weird when a girl

usually all smiles

dashes away to break down

because breaking down isn't her thing, really.

There are those who are willing to

keep me strong and

those who keep me sane;

I wish I could allow myself to

get so weak I could lose

all my thought or sanity

so I didn't need to make sense of

the torture chamber proclaiming the place of

what I once called life.

Welcome to suicidal thoughts

and choked up tears. I cannot make life

disappear

so it is a life I have to learn

to grow immune to so it wouldn't

hurt as much when it eats me up.

I am building stronger walls again

this time 'round, it feels

a lot thicker and much more

unbreakable, strong enough

to hurl back and crush me

if I lose control of this.

They watch me, trying to keep me

safe, telling me

things will change and I hope the day

doesn't come, when I won't be able

to see them anymore,

when the walls get higher around me

and swallow me whole.

backwards

i am back to the beginning

the dark rooms and me

scraping for air.

i live in reverse

i am back to

curling up

without purpose for anything

and i ponder death again.

i am back to hating my guts

for making decisions that

broke me

trashed me

killed me.

nothing would be as it is

if i never chose to hold onto

someone who

ruined me

because i was naive enough

to believe in love.

there is a reason why i hid it all away.

i hate the taste of my tears

i hate the sound of my mind

breaking me up into miniscule

hopeless pieces.

i hated being this way

and fuck, i am back to living

like this.

the sound of engines

it kills with each smile

to realise it will

ruin a lot to

heal everything.

i can taste depression on the

tip of my ears where he last

left whispers of

reassurance that try to work

but i gulp them down like

the drop of my heart

i can feel the sallow stabs return.

he is amazing too amazing

for me and my endless

migraines and seconds when i can't

accept that he's there because

i am too busy with things that

aren't

but haunt me.

i don't want to feel this way

but what if it takes me

needing to destroy myself and

break through shards of glass

like the super woman i once thought

i was

to see the happiness

i am starting to feel

but too weak to catch

because my ribs hurt and i curl up

trying to cry

and trying to

hold back tears.

familiarity

These are all my familiar moments

peeling at my skin beside and

under my nails

biting it off

the spacing out every

other minute until it feels like my

eyesight has a world of its own

listening to music but

not really responding

an intake without

exhalation

leaning against the wall

i have to have walls

walls to hide in

and walls to break

the familiar moments like when

i choke back cutting thoughts

because i think about him

again

just when i trust that i am

fine

again

familiar moments when i

prefer my own company

to others

so i don't have to pretend it is easy

to laugh

enlightenment

Ash fluttering

to the sound of

guitars

fan whirring

cables

i am myself

by twisting out of myself

an empty plate

filled with contemporaries

one minute i'm there

one minute i'm not

a car alarm cuts through

the 3.43am silence

with a vicious slash

and the weak, flickering light

on the thirteenth floor of

a distant building call out to me like

warning like

reality

i exhale

smoke whispering to

the night

a flick of my finger

i feel like i am falling

ash fluttering

exploding to the ground

rot

my body is tired

a thousand years of insomnia plaguing my eyes

my spine is on fire.

i curl up, my mind is in tangles

i curl up

but cannot shut off

uncleansed thoughts pursuing

my every blink

my nails are jagged and

scabs keep layering over

wounds i keep renewing

my body is tired

my body is tight

my body is old

and my mind is exhausted.

i float

i sink

will i never taste euphoria

on the brim of my lips again?

my muscles are straining

i cannot move

and my skin is tearing apart

at least, feels like it.

my body is tired

so tired

and my mind wants to die.

contortion

there are no expressions to express
no descriptions to describe
to despise to resent to hate
the way you stuff silence down my throat
and regurgitate out false acclaims
of obedience.

you scrutinize me under
microscopic perspective
but you miss out the fundamental
emotions
because i have become accustomed
to hiding them well
so you scrutinize a blank sheet of
human remains
without ever understanding
who i am.

i find satisfaction now
in tearing up things that mean a lot to you
and mean a lot to me - supposedly
but i don't feel as easily now
used to slapping concrete on my heart
and i am less prone to getting hurt the way
i can make you hurt

you've forgotten what
i've seen what
i've been and how long
i have dwelled in the dark

i am used to immorality
so what you feed me is nothing short of
normality

you are trying to pull me back
to sanity
but doing it all wrong

one day you will crack and
go insane
and i will be free

bitter tunes

your double vision is clear and

your breath is heavy

with trying not to tear apart

i am trying not to tear apart.

it is not just a song that

threatens my heartbeat

but the thousand memories scraping at me

until i bleed inside and i can

taste the iron on my lips from when i

licked my self-inflicted wounds

to escape that night.

your eyes are burning and

your lips are dry

from keeping in desperate chokes

i am trying not to choke on

my tears

the tears that no longer show but

they are always there

on the tip of my eyelashes and

in a place where my heart cannot find.

it is not just a song that reminds me of you

it is not just a song that reminds me of

how much i hurt

there was a time when my mind died and

the song was playing like the soundtrack of

last seconds

i am the reminder of all that haunts me

everyday.

dive

the city is exploding with

crashes and

colour bombs

the view from where i stand,

where my cigarette smoke

can paint the sky

for special effects.

it is time for superwoman to

rescue the world

i play the game to feel sure of my make believe

for the city isn't really exploding

merely fireworks to celebrate the

irony of me

my cigarette smoke is just

cigarette smoke

i am no superwoman

no one to save but myself

but i just want to make my

jump from a torturous dream

sound a little better than

an end

and trying to claw for reasons

much more believable.

thoughts of a nocturnal

sometimes when you don't sleep

you spend the day up in a

high

wandering through hours of

reveries in waking

your mind is asleep and

your body's on auto-mode

it helps you through days

you don't want to be aware of

like everydays and

moments you live in.

you spend the day counting sheep

like lost causes because when it

is time to sleep

the sheep have run out

and you are back to wishing

you are asleep from the world

when the sun is shining

too bright to make me feel at home.

i don't belong in my dreams

but there is no place in reality

to fix myself within so i swallow myself in

and live timeless days

motionless

because things heal sometimes without

progression.