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?

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?