Unbelonging

She wakes up every morning
Just to die a little more,
And this feeling, unbelonging,
Well she wonders what it’s for.

The world’s a crazy jigsaw,
With no design to it,
And still she always tries so hard
To make the pieces fit.

The clutter of her past life,
Scars from so-called friends,
Too much toxic baggage
In a suitcase of pretend.

Life is life, no meaning,
No laugh, no joke, no prize.
There’s just the punchline friend,
And you’ll find it’s coffin size.

Wrong Rabbit..

Snared rabbit.

Staring at life, but
Can’t grab it.

It’s a
Bad habit.

Cheaper by tube,
Still cab it.

Reach something,
Can’t have it.

I’m in a
Cold panic.

Taking pills and weed,
Still manic.

Can’t stand it,
Nobody planned it.

Some kind of clue?
Never had it.

Crash my own party like I’m
Mad at it.

Some kind of lifestyle?
Bad at it.

Think I’m simply on the
Wrong planet.

Yeah.

Wrong planet.

Mental Marionette

There seem so many truths,
Which one do I face?
Which one takes the place
On the pedestal?

When I tried to face them all,
They warned me I would fall;
See me falling.
Trying to pretend
That the song will never end,
But for better or for worse
I think I’m running short of verse.

I can pretend at emotion,
Lip syncing to the song,
But the words are all rehearsed,
And each line is getting worse.
All I feel now is an emptiness,
Just nothingness, maybe less.

An undefined ache
Where I thought my soul should go,
But I’ve always been a fake
And I just put on a show.
So convincingly the act
That I once believed the fact
That I could be a real girl.
But oh, Pinoccio,
I should have listened
To you.

Nothing for me.

Spent three weeks in an unmade bed,
A pounding in my skull,
Repeating thoughts in my head.
Like the lyrics of a song
Singing ‘please let me die before long.’

I’m trying hard to hold on to the act of holding on,
But even now my own mind wants me gone,
So the line I’m holding onto’s not that strong.
The basic problem with this kind of rope, you see,
Is that it’s tethered far too tightly to my sanity.

Maybe if I enjoyed a single moment,
Maybe if I could control or own it,
I’d be happier alive,
Given a reason to survive,
But all I get is non-stop misery.

So fuck me.
No apologies for profanity.
I’m stuck here in my head, wishing I was fuckin’ dead,
Because there’s nothing in this world that I can see,
Nothing for me.
Nothing for me.

Identity Pt. II.

Raistlin. Of course I was always Raistlin. Weren’t we all? I’m pretty sure that was the point. Or maybe I’m a bad judge of fiction. It’s been a while since I read it.

I don’t ever recall categorising or identifying characters by ‘gender role’ back then. Instead, sorted them by, as Magneto puts it, ‘what I want, and how I’m going to get it.’

I think that puts me….just over the Neutral/Good side of the True Neutral line..

Great, apparently my gender identity / awareness is based on an AD&D alignment table…As well as revealing me to be a massive nerd. Methinks I spake too much. (Contemplates deleting this post..)

With great power comes great mental illness / torment.

Seems to be one of those days. Time to get offline.

Not my art, modified without permission.

Shooting my mouth off

I’m dressed to bitch, and
There’s an angry itch
Behind my eyes.
One that says I may be guilty
Of more than one demise.
Imagine their surprise
As I cut them down to size.
My verbal six-shooters hang in cross-draw,
Sights filed down, and furthermore,
With a quick-pull-trigger,
This mouth is set to go off.
‘You’d better run, better run,
Outrun my gun.’

Irony

The meadowlark laughed.
Her singular propensity for disregarding
Guilt and sorrow
Made me think of you.
Everyday is such a perfect day
To be down.
Especially days when you’re around.
I try to tolerate such intolerable intolerance,
Given the chance. The circumstance.
It’s not the end
Of the world,
But I still fall
For the straight girl.

Unseen

Each time you pass me in the hall
I find new depths to fall into,
When all I ever wanted was
Some kind of smile from you.
One meant just for me,
Have your eyes focus and see
Me standing there,
Red faced and feeling small.

Colouring Book

I try my best to be careful,
Pay attention to the what and the wherefore.
But there always comes a time,
When I colour outside of the line.

I try so hard just to fit in,
Do everything the world is expecting,
But now and then you’ll find,
Not everything written will rhyme.

I put so much effort and vanity,
Into pretending I still have my sanity,
But too often comes the time,
I colour totally outside of my mind.

Mis-thoughts

I’m standing here frozen
Inside this party crowd,
Thinking all these things
I want to scream out loud.
Swallowing so many thoughts
Of which I’m not that proud.

Now I’m staring at you all
Staring at me,
Looking so hard at
A thing you just can’t see.

And I think
I shouldn’t think
What I think
What you think
About me.