MY WRITING
Hello, welcome to my ultimate thought loop and musings world- feel free to look around and read pieces of my thought process, just don't prod around my brain too much.
this page is currently a work in process!
purple flowers in your hair
blue roses rising from the soil
a liveliness in your eyes
a smile so bright and so joyful
an overwhelming feeling and a morbid desire
to yank the flowers from the ground and rip
out the roots from the earth
blue roses in your hair
purple flowers rising from the soil
violence chained to the most rusted metal
bullet hole eyes and falling tears
tell me,
how have you really been?
i felt the warmth of the grass, of the
empty blistering sun, and as i stared
at the cloudless sky
i felt myself lose a piece of my mind.
What is faith if not granted
for those philosophers who think of answers
i have a thought that I always go to
whenever i sit on this field in April
And as i look and observe
i can sense God the almighty
i’ve committed grave sins unwanted
that i will take to the tomb with me
and in these plains I feel his presence
but
(it’s impossible for me to get it)
for i am a sinner and he is a saint
my father told me i was going to hell
and ever since then i’ve stayed quiet
the clock keeps ticking and i don’t want it
i’ll close my eyes,
say his name in vain,
and drift away
to somewhere where none of this
matters.
dear myself
i never thought i'd see the day where i'd leave flowers on your grave
consumed by a delirious grandiose apathy that makes you unable to see yourself
both in the mirror and in the space of your own head
you only see a reflection of something not even close to your own self.
it's this feeling of unworthiness that makes you unable to love, that makes you unable to feel
and makes you unable to feel any emotion fulfilling enough to see.
It's this feeling of hopelessness and uncaring, this feeling of narcissism and self hatred- these feelings that keep you in a never ending cycle.
dear,
happy is a word with no definition, no curves or creaces,
when you really feel it, it's almost like a ghost
and it scares your heart when you find it out
when you find out what's inside of your own self.
yet it's a fleeting feeling, and rots like fruit left open- cut and sliced and spliced til broken
flies buzzing, you will look other ways
with a brand new silver outlook
in due time it will grow back, like planted seeds about to sprout. The ringing bells in the distance
the church sits on a pedestal
the statues sing a choir
and this choir is heard all over
from continent to continent
though I can smell the blood of the corpses and I can smell the smoke from the chimneys.
I'm in a store where everything's cheap
small and basic utensils to eat
when the rapture comes he goes forward to me
tells me I'm chosen to be the next king
it's so hard to feel anything now
as a preconceived notion appears through the heart
like an arrow, just on brand
just on time
somewhere in the arms of my own grave
there's a kaleidoscope of thoughts
and every year the memory has gotten
emptier, emptier
until there's nothing but a blank wall stare
in my head and eyes
reflect on the steps you took
remove my chokehold,
yet i will still Love you
lurid as you are
there was a day venus fell from the sky
and crashed the earth into millions of pieces
the asteroids flew through the stars
and the sky dissolved into a mass of weakness
and so
the day, venus fell from the sky
everyone knew it was going to happen
they hid in their bunkers their houses and
basements
but nobody could stop it from falling down
and while they saw the red sky and the burning
object, they held their breath
and some said their prayers
yet nothing could stop venus from falling
and destroying everything as they knew it
for
human life
meant nothing to venus.
Physiologically driven, ecstasy in the form of desirable poetry
I wish I had something other than words to describe a feeling
In my memoirs I always wished I hadn't been so forgiving
Yet it's rose-stained and missing a realistic meaning.
Falling short of perfection,
an eternal earthly demise fitting for someone who will not hold accountable even those who should not be forgiven.
I am a construct of your own vacant creation. i wanna rinse my own evil thoughts
eat out our bitter hearts,
and watch as we are instrumentally laid down
i want to understand what it means
to love some with your whole life
i really want to understand what it means
to not feel shame, and guilt, for the rest of my life
maybe it’s idealized, and i’ve never truly felt it
never truly felt a lover’s embrace in winter evening
the most anything has lasted has been one spring
maybe there’s something deep within this vacant void
and once heartless, when i meet you it will disappear
do you even truly exist?
someone that will make me finally feel.
my lips are speaking but there’s nothing to say
i’ve been sleepwalking most of these days
will i ever really love again?
dear god, i hate you more than i hate myself Starved of touch, I heard about you
from a couple of friends, and my heart
fluttered, and I had to deal with the fallout
of the truth I saw through.
/////
Don't you understand?
I can't figure out the source of the sound
that's ringing in my head.
There's broken bones in my body,
connected to my eardrum and
knocking the doors of my tissue and brain.
I feel sharp glass intoxicate your throat
and it's coming from me.
Don't you understand?
I can't figure out the source of the sound
that's ringing in my head.
I can see your body and I can feel the breath on my neck.
All the problems I had are showing their vile heads,
Don't you understand?
I'm the one who took your damned pain away.
there’s meaning & invocation, in every word I pressure
it’s nothing but a discolored worn-out memory of a real person
sadistic, lasting but never seen, there are memorials held for the old me.
buried underwater, where nobody can see- the sickening face of such a repulsive thing.
it’s just the washing away of old sins, unremarkable and unpalatable yet- oh, so clear.
i can see my own reflection staring back at me- that my choices may be cleared away,
and that my heart may be fully and rightfully free of grief. A darkened stairwell- ominous, grand, and rusted with years of wear and decay. The buzzing in his ears grew more robust and was all-consuming and neverending, the loop of the static was but repeating in a constant cycle of torturous sound.
He took a first step, and the sharpened creaks were heard throughout the night- the void in which these steps stood. The entirety of his life was spent wallowing in nothing but his own misery. And the buzzing yet again grew in strength, until it was indiscernible. And a drop, and a sound- and another step further up. The buzzing stops once he gets to the top.
The room above the stairwell was nothing short of equally grim. Filth littered the floor, dust covered the surfaces of every piece and inch of furniture, and tattered and broken-down walls adorned the empty spaces. Through the cracks, you could see the darkness of the black nothing seeping into the room- there was a red mirror, bright crimson light emitting from it. In the middle of the room- there was a big blue couch that was almost imposing itself onto the dark ichor. Plain, green alcohol bottles with no real labels were strewn carelessly upon the floor, and a menacing, pitch-dark, shadowed figure was sitting in the middle between the cushions.
It was staring at the mirror, which hosted no reflection.
Was this the moment he was looking forwards to? The moment to rinse out sins- to damn those wicked thoughts, put away all heart and bitterness into a locked space, and just bring forth reason. Rage flowed like blood in his veins, and it was just so revoltingly vile. If his actions were rightfully justified- what did this regret mean? Why did he feel empathy and all these guilt-ridden emotions? He’d rather just send them all to hell.
“Heaven will forbid me for what I have to do…” he muttered to himself, unheard by his own creation. He tried to get closer.
When he tried to get close, his mouth tasted of bile- and an unnatural, otherworldly attraction drove him closer. His entire body was being controlled by another force driving his hands towards the figure’s throat- close enough to impair and crack it, yet still enough inches away to not touch it. He stared upwards and saw his own reflection- in the act, staring at him like a deer in headlights, a run-over dog.
He struggled to move- disturbing scratches expanded like snakes slithering across his hands, he looked down and tried to stop the blood from pooling in his mouth, but it was too much. He was not ready, he would never be, and he would never recover from his past sins. Opening his mouth, the coagulated blood drooled and pooled on the floor and the figure disappeared into the black expanse.
When he stared up, he saw his reflection, smiling and deceitful, remorseful and sickening. He saw something weird behind it. His speech was chopped and he heard high-pitched laughs becoming louder. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to forget. It spread throughout the room and he crouched onto his own blood, spreading shapely throughout the floor like water. He swore, he would never dream like this again.
Everything felt like defeat.
What a drag it was, when the alarm clock woke him up- the sound etched deep within his ear and his eyes shot wide open. He didn’t scream; he never did.
“Well, that was definitely a nightmare. I wonder what’s for breakfast.”
__ “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”.
Waking up felt like a chore every day, my entire daily routine felt like the same cycle- exactly the same, every second of the day. Wake up from the same damned nightmare, get on my personal computer, get bouts of anxiety, and pace around my room until I feel motion sick. After enough pacing around, I would sit back down and talk to online friends, play games, and program until it was midnight- maybe eat the leftovers if I felt like it. There is nothing inherently wrong, there never is- but there was an odd and impending sense of dread that filled my day-to-day life.
I never remembered much of my previous life, but I always wanted to know more about my mother. I wanted to know why she abandoned me and why she gave me away. The only persistent memories I had were negative, and this dissociated knowledge is what currently made me seek the answers I was avoiding for so long. I thought if I avoided the truth for long enough it would just disappear, but it didn’t. It grew stronger- loomed over me, and didn’t let me breathe. I caved in, I wanted to know what the dreams were telling me, what the secrets of my family were but trying to hide my intentions of leaving from my own brother was taking up most of my time…
“Hey.”
I turned around, and he… my brother was standing in my doorway. Shit.
“Are you done monologuing?”
“Uh. Yes, I’m done, actually. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”
“You don’t have to say most of your thoughts aloud, I don’t mind hearing them- other people might, though”.
“Yeah, whatever.” I joked around with him enough to know he didn’t mean it seriously. He was still my savior after all, and the person who gave me the comfortable life I currently lived. “Do you, uh, have my bus pass? I’ve been waiting for it since I woke up and saw you weren’t home.”
“You know, for someone with a scholarship to The Institution you aren’t very intuitive.” He pulls out money, the bus pass, and some..strange device out of his pocket. “I got all of it for you, buddy. Thank me later, you’ll need all of this if you’re going there”.
---
The café was somewhat empty, its windows squeaky clean and its tables neatly put together. I walked into the gorgeously decorated place about 5 minutes ago. To say it was well-decorated would be putting it mildly- the opaque white curtains had an otherworldly sheen to them, and white daisies crawled across the industrial dark-gray brick wall, contrasted by an angelic mural of rolling grass fields under blue skylights on the other side of the room, the rest of the room painted with a fresh coat of paint.
My order had come expectantly quickly since the place was mostly empty anyway. The barista seemed to be a man in his 20s, except he had a strange disconcerting beauty to him that I could not explain. His hair was platinum blond and waist-length- it left me wondering how he managed to take care of it, and I wondered what it would be like to run my hands through it, how soft it would feel. His eyes were a light shade of baby blue- and usually, I hate people with blue eyes and find their gaze unnerving, but there was something captivating in them as he smiled at me and poured me a cup of espresso- I caught a gleam in his eye that left me feeling slightly uneasy.
blue roses rising from the soil
a liveliness in your eyes
a smile so bright and so joyful
an overwhelming feeling and a morbid desire
to yank the flowers from the ground and rip
out the roots from the earth
blue roses in your hair
purple flowers rising from the soil
violence chained to the most rusted metal
bullet hole eyes and falling tears
tell me,
how have you really been?
i felt the warmth of the grass, of the
empty blistering sun, and as i stared
at the cloudless sky
i felt myself lose a piece of my mind.
What is faith if not granted
for those philosophers who think of answers
i have a thought that I always go to
whenever i sit on this field in April
And as i look and observe
i can sense God the almighty
i’ve committed grave sins unwanted
that i will take to the tomb with me
and in these plains I feel his presence
but
(it’s impossible for me to get it)
for i am a sinner and he is a saint
my father told me i was going to hell
and ever since then i’ve stayed quiet
the clock keeps ticking and i don’t want it
i’ll close my eyes,
say his name in vain,
and drift away
to somewhere where none of this
matters.
dear myself
i never thought i'd see the day where i'd leave flowers on your grave
consumed by a delirious grandiose apathy that makes you unable to see yourself
both in the mirror and in the space of your own head
you only see a reflection of something not even close to your own self.
it's this feeling of unworthiness that makes you unable to love, that makes you unable to feel
and makes you unable to feel any emotion fulfilling enough to see.
It's this feeling of hopelessness and uncaring, this feeling of narcissism and self hatred- these feelings that keep you in a never ending cycle.
dear,
happy is a word with no definition, no curves or creaces,
when you really feel it, it's almost like a ghost
and it scares your heart when you find it out
when you find out what's inside of your own self.
yet it's a fleeting feeling, and rots like fruit left open- cut and sliced and spliced til broken
flies buzzing, you will look other ways
with a brand new silver outlook
in due time it will grow back, like planted seeds about to sprout. The ringing bells in the distance
the church sits on a pedestal
the statues sing a choir
and this choir is heard all over
from continent to continent
though I can smell the blood of the corpses and I can smell the smoke from the chimneys.
I'm in a store where everything's cheap
small and basic utensils to eat
when the rapture comes he goes forward to me
tells me I'm chosen to be the next king
it's so hard to feel anything now
as a preconceived notion appears through the heart
like an arrow, just on brand
just on time
somewhere in the arms of my own grave
there's a kaleidoscope of thoughts
and every year the memory has gotten
emptier, emptier
until there's nothing but a blank wall stare
in my head and eyes
reflect on the steps you took
remove my chokehold,
yet i will still Love you
lurid as you are
there was a day venus fell from the sky
and crashed the earth into millions of pieces
the asteroids flew through the stars
and the sky dissolved into a mass of weakness
and so
the day, venus fell from the sky
everyone knew it was going to happen
they hid in their bunkers their houses and
basements
but nobody could stop it from falling down
and while they saw the red sky and the burning
object, they held their breath
and some said their prayers
yet nothing could stop venus from falling
and destroying everything as they knew it
for
human life
meant nothing to venus.
Physiologically driven, ecstasy in the form of desirable poetry
I wish I had something other than words to describe a feeling
In my memoirs I always wished I hadn't been so forgiving
Yet it's rose-stained and missing a realistic meaning.
Falling short of perfection,
an eternal earthly demise fitting for someone who will not hold accountable even those who should not be forgiven.
I am a construct of your own vacant creation. i wanna rinse my own evil thoughts
eat out our bitter hearts,
and watch as we are instrumentally laid down
i want to understand what it means
to love some with your whole life
i really want to understand what it means
to not feel shame, and guilt, for the rest of my life
maybe it’s idealized, and i’ve never truly felt it
never truly felt a lover’s embrace in winter evening
the most anything has lasted has been one spring
maybe there’s something deep within this vacant void
and once heartless, when i meet you it will disappear
do you even truly exist?
someone that will make me finally feel.
my lips are speaking but there’s nothing to say
i’ve been sleepwalking most of these days
will i ever really love again?
dear god, i hate you more than i hate myself Starved of touch, I heard about you
from a couple of friends, and my heart
fluttered, and I had to deal with the fallout
of the truth I saw through.
/////
Don't you understand?
I can't figure out the source of the sound
that's ringing in my head.
There's broken bones in my body,
connected to my eardrum and
knocking the doors of my tissue and brain.
I feel sharp glass intoxicate your throat
and it's coming from me.
Don't you understand?
I can't figure out the source of the sound
that's ringing in my head.
I can see your body and I can feel the breath on my neck.
All the problems I had are showing their vile heads,
Don't you understand?
I'm the one who took your damned pain away.
there’s meaning & invocation, in every word I pressure
it’s nothing but a discolored worn-out memory of a real person
sadistic, lasting but never seen, there are memorials held for the old me.
buried underwater, where nobody can see- the sickening face of such a repulsive thing.
it’s just the washing away of old sins, unremarkable and unpalatable yet- oh, so clear.
i can see my own reflection staring back at me- that my choices may be cleared away,
and that my heart may be fully and rightfully free of grief. A darkened stairwell- ominous, grand, and rusted with years of wear and decay. The buzzing in his ears grew more robust and was all-consuming and neverending, the loop of the static was but repeating in a constant cycle of torturous sound.
He took a first step, and the sharpened creaks were heard throughout the night- the void in which these steps stood. The entirety of his life was spent wallowing in nothing but his own misery. And the buzzing yet again grew in strength, until it was indiscernible. And a drop, and a sound- and another step further up. The buzzing stops once he gets to the top.
The room above the stairwell was nothing short of equally grim. Filth littered the floor, dust covered the surfaces of every piece and inch of furniture, and tattered and broken-down walls adorned the empty spaces. Through the cracks, you could see the darkness of the black nothing seeping into the room- there was a red mirror, bright crimson light emitting from it. In the middle of the room- there was a big blue couch that was almost imposing itself onto the dark ichor. Plain, green alcohol bottles with no real labels were strewn carelessly upon the floor, and a menacing, pitch-dark, shadowed figure was sitting in the middle between the cushions.
It was staring at the mirror, which hosted no reflection.
Was this the moment he was looking forwards to? The moment to rinse out sins- to damn those wicked thoughts, put away all heart and bitterness into a locked space, and just bring forth reason. Rage flowed like blood in his veins, and it was just so revoltingly vile. If his actions were rightfully justified- what did this regret mean? Why did he feel empathy and all these guilt-ridden emotions? He’d rather just send them all to hell.
“Heaven will forbid me for what I have to do…” he muttered to himself, unheard by his own creation. He tried to get closer.
When he tried to get close, his mouth tasted of bile- and an unnatural, otherworldly attraction drove him closer. His entire body was being controlled by another force driving his hands towards the figure’s throat- close enough to impair and crack it, yet still enough inches away to not touch it. He stared upwards and saw his own reflection- in the act, staring at him like a deer in headlights, a run-over dog.
He struggled to move- disturbing scratches expanded like snakes slithering across his hands, he looked down and tried to stop the blood from pooling in his mouth, but it was too much. He was not ready, he would never be, and he would never recover from his past sins. Opening his mouth, the coagulated blood drooled and pooled on the floor and the figure disappeared into the black expanse.
When he stared up, he saw his reflection, smiling and deceitful, remorseful and sickening. He saw something weird behind it. His speech was chopped and he heard high-pitched laughs becoming louder. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to forget. It spread throughout the room and he crouched onto his own blood, spreading shapely throughout the floor like water. He swore, he would never dream like this again.
Everything felt like defeat.
What a drag it was, when the alarm clock woke him up- the sound etched deep within his ear and his eyes shot wide open. He didn’t scream; he never did.
“Well, that was definitely a nightmare. I wonder what’s for breakfast.”
__ “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”.
Waking up felt like a chore every day, my entire daily routine felt like the same cycle- exactly the same, every second of the day. Wake up from the same damned nightmare, get on my personal computer, get bouts of anxiety, and pace around my room until I feel motion sick. After enough pacing around, I would sit back down and talk to online friends, play games, and program until it was midnight- maybe eat the leftovers if I felt like it. There is nothing inherently wrong, there never is- but there was an odd and impending sense of dread that filled my day-to-day life.
I never remembered much of my previous life, but I always wanted to know more about my mother. I wanted to know why she abandoned me and why she gave me away. The only persistent memories I had were negative, and this dissociated knowledge is what currently made me seek the answers I was avoiding for so long. I thought if I avoided the truth for long enough it would just disappear, but it didn’t. It grew stronger- loomed over me, and didn’t let me breathe. I caved in, I wanted to know what the dreams were telling me, what the secrets of my family were but trying to hide my intentions of leaving from my own brother was taking up most of my time…
“Hey.”
I turned around, and he… my brother was standing in my doorway. Shit.
“Are you done monologuing?”
“Uh. Yes, I’m done, actually. Hey, don’t look at me like that.”
“You don’t have to say most of your thoughts aloud, I don’t mind hearing them- other people might, though”.
“Yeah, whatever.” I joked around with him enough to know he didn’t mean it seriously. He was still my savior after all, and the person who gave me the comfortable life I currently lived. “Do you, uh, have my bus pass? I’ve been waiting for it since I woke up and saw you weren’t home.”
“You know, for someone with a scholarship to The Institution you aren’t very intuitive.” He pulls out money, the bus pass, and some..strange device out of his pocket. “I got all of it for you, buddy. Thank me later, you’ll need all of this if you’re going there”.
---
The café was somewhat empty, its windows squeaky clean and its tables neatly put together. I walked into the gorgeously decorated place about 5 minutes ago. To say it was well-decorated would be putting it mildly- the opaque white curtains had an otherworldly sheen to them, and white daisies crawled across the industrial dark-gray brick wall, contrasted by an angelic mural of rolling grass fields under blue skylights on the other side of the room, the rest of the room painted with a fresh coat of paint.
My order had come expectantly quickly since the place was mostly empty anyway. The barista seemed to be a man in his 20s, except he had a strange disconcerting beauty to him that I could not explain. His hair was platinum blond and waist-length- it left me wondering how he managed to take care of it, and I wondered what it would be like to run my hands through it, how soft it would feel. His eyes were a light shade of baby blue- and usually, I hate people with blue eyes and find their gaze unnerving, but there was something captivating in them as he smiled at me and poured me a cup of espresso- I caught a gleam in his eye that left me feeling slightly uneasy.