Untitled

I wrote this in 2009. I was 17 years old. A sobering and morose reminder that this thing in me has been there for the majority of my life and I’ve yet to conquer it.

Insecurity.

It lurks,
threatens my every thought
Even those I don’t yet fathom.

I must be strong.

Wakes me with a kiss,
and with duplicitous panache,
stirs bittersweet introspection into my tea.

I must stand my ground.

Derisive laughter heralds it’s presence,
Ha! Ha! Ha!
an un-winnable internal battle ensues…

Please, no…

Really now?
What shit is this!?
Do you think these words, your words, matter?
How laughable! How pathetic! How naive of you!

Shake it! Just shake it off, my words DO matter!

Bullshit!
There isn’t any talent
inside your addled head,
even if there was,
who could possibly care?!
Why waste valuable time
energy and emotion when
not a single person gives a shit!?

Artistic expression doesn’t have to be anything but what it is. . .

What artistic expression?!
When I write…
Who ARE you kidding?!
I’m not trying to kid anyone.. I
Why pretend? We both you aren’t worth shit in this world!
I..

You’ve nothing to offer of yourself or anyone else
with your pitiful ”abilities”, nothing!
Look at the records!
How many have left you?
How many respect you?
How many have given you the slip?!

I begin succumb to the doubt, why fight it?
What’s the goddamned point of it all?

Fuck it!
I give up… no… we give in.

Just being a mess

Roses are red
Violets are blue
I want to be dead
Can’t you take a clue

I just want to choke and die because one of my biggest flaws is that I always make myself my feel all the things that hurt. I know what was it was like to lose you way before we ever broke up as kids. I’m all too familiar to being too into what’s not into me. I’m, always the one to reach out first and put myself out there but never cool enough to hold back and let good things come to me. Stare in a mirror and realize I’m physically weaker than I was five years ago. I’m heavier, I have less hair. The small physical reasons to die are adding up like extra rounds in a revolver. I’ll never grow taller or be a lot smarter. I’m falling farther and farther and farther from all the things that I made to mean me. I’m holding myself back because I’m afraid of not being successful. I hate myself because I was never honestly loved as a kid or even if I was I was so preoccupied with making sure I knew that it was all a lie to ever feel it. I can’t tell if I’m the demon or if he’s in me holding all these memories above my head like a hangman’s post. Laughing and pulling this noose around my neck with my eyes closed tears slipping past those pathetic gates that couldn’t see my worth even if it was wrapped in a chest of glitter and gold. My eyes are closed as I write this because I can’t bare to see if I’m breaking through or being left behind. If I can’t let me live then why won’t I kill me. Why won’t I let me kill myself. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to die. I want to love you, me. So why can’t you learn to breathe easily.

A Dissonance: Part 1

As I watched the sun set down on me
It suddenly dawned on me
That I was letting life stall on me
And I slipped and fell fast into an economy
Of perfectly palatable platitudes praising my positive life plans
Just boring banalities sounding like brittle bones breaking against my bereaved brain
Doomed to die a definite death in the dungeons of my depression and desire

Lukewarm attitudes and watered down sentiments

 

 

Chained Maple

Your love is always on my mind

I can hear those wedding bells ringing

And they aren’t mine

Oh, how could I let you go

Let you fall for those lies

Those lies that we all sow

I’ll run up to those doors and kick them down

I’ll sweep you off of your feet

And we’ll skip this town

My love found a way

Now I can be happy

And next to me you’ll always stay