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,
Now I’m falling.
Trying to pretend
That the song will never end,
But for better or for worse
I think I’m running out of verse.

I can pretend at emotion,
Lip syncing to the song,
But the words are all rehearsed,
And every 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 it’s 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.

Catch 22

If I had anything to say, maybe of interest,
I’d pin the fuckin’ thing up on my pinterest.
But all my conversations now are with myself,
And it’s slowly eating at my mental health.

Like seagulls picking at a whales’ rotting corpse,
The wide beach view is fine, until of course,
You look a bit closer, see the detail,
That’s my sanity: half eaten whale.

I should probably get a friend or maybe two,
I like them in the same way that I like you.
Fine until they open up their mouth,
Then I don’t want to hear whatever shit is coming out.

Well, maybe I’m a narcissistic bitch,
With some really messed up kind of mental itch,
But if I scratch it ’til it don’t itch no more,
There’ll be chunks of greyish matter scattered all over the floor.

They say you’ll never love someone until you learn to love yourself,
Well Catch 22, asshole, here’s a thought, I’ll share the wealth,
How can I learn to love me, ’til I’m shown love by someone else?
The lesson goes both ways, as most good lessons do,
Since everybody hates me,
I’ve learned how to hate me too.

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.

the forest for the me’s

I can smile at a party.
After the turn out, I
Turn off my burnt out
Holographic face.

Who

I can greet you on the street
And you won’t even ask
About the chosen mask
I look through out at you.

Am

I can attend a family event,
I’m still quite able
To sit at a table,
Pretending to be me.

I

See the pallette spread before me,
Choose a colour, it adorns me.
Pick the right one, I can be
Anyone I want to be.

?

If I can be anybody, oh so easily,
No difference that any one, not even I can see,
One face or another, all so equally..

Which one is really me?

Heartlost


Composure,
Yeah I lost it.
My mind, I lost that too.
I lost my heart and everything,
The moment I lost you.
Now I’m shaking and unsure of
How I’m supposed to feel,
My friend’s are so blasé
But to me it’s a huge deal.
My stomach’s in my chest,
I’ve lost track of all the rest,
Each cell in me is bleeding tears.
Although I’ve tried to act my best,
I don’t give a fuck about
Backlash or all that cost,
When all I want is gone,
Heartlost.

Not Not OK

When your mind is broken
And the world is wreckage
Inside you,
They tell you to say:
That you’re not ok,
No, you’re not OK.

So I said it, I wrote it,
Used my blood to draw,
And what the fuck for?
Nobody listened, nobody cared,
Nobody got what I shared and I shared.
I guess that was lucky,
Because although I had tried
To express how I wish how I really had died,
Express how I hated myself and my life,
How my pain got less with each cut of a knife,
It turns out I was actually, really, OK,

Compared to how I am now anyway.

Fading

I’m not sure if I forgot
Or have just grown indecisive,
But I can’t really quite recall
Exactly what my life is.
I used to know where I belong.
Used to have a favourite song.
Favourite author.
Favourite food.
Favourite colour.
Favourite mood.
Now I don’t know
What my greatest fear is,
Favourite beer is,
Time of year is,
Or even how deep the lithosphere is..
OK, I never really knew that last one,
Carry on, my wayward son.

Filled up with Empty

Hey, It’s me, calling up at 2am,
Just a little bit off my face.
Ima need some bail again,
For fighting at some place.

Shouldn’t have gone out,
Probably should have stayed home,
But when I’m empty, and angry,
I’m not safe when I’m alone.

I tried my best to fill up the hole,
Indulged in dancing and alcohol.
Maybe got just a tiny bit lit, but,
It’s called a hole ‘cos there’s nothing innit.

Lost my temper, and before I knew,
I glassed some bitch and her boyfriend too.
She needs stitches, he might be blind,
Maybe I went too far this time.

It filled the hole, but I must confess,
It only filled up with more emptiness.

Ungiven

There are plenty of moments
Of heartache I admit,
Some hurt more than others,
And those hurt quite a bit.
But nothing cut me open
As surely and as swift,
As when you walked up
And handed back all of my gifts.
The ones that had meaning,
Given over years.
But you just dumped them in my hands,
Ignoring all my tears.
I confess not knowing what to say,
Never having felt that way.
You walked away, left me to hold
Rejected pieces of my soul.

Watch Out!

Keep one eye on the wolf, my dear,
And one eye on the door.
But then who dreams the dreamer, dear?
And which one came before?
So one eye for the dreamer then,
One eye, one dream too many.
Best you look behind again,
Before you don’t have any.

Blood Angel

Scared and cold and dripping red,
A knife cut to the bone,
Something echoes in my head,
‘..don’t want to die alone..’

A gentle wind begins to stir
My Angel whispers low,
“Silly girl, you were always were,
You simply didn’t know.”

Her final words hang in the air
“Just like a glass that shatters,
You’ll always be beyond repair
In every way that matters. “

fairly self exploratory..

I thought to go exploring,
Deep inside of me,
Hoping I might find the things
That cause such misery.

But what I found was certainly
No stately pleasure dome decreed,
No lands untold, or centre earth,
No, all I found was me.

And so myself and I spoke long,
And although I hoped we might,
We did not get along, but rather
Hated on first sight.

Myself confessed they hated me,
Despised me through and through.
I realised when I looked at me,
I hated myself too.

And so I’ll relate this little story,
Quite the handy alogory.
If spelunking in your mind,
Beware what you might find.

Bus Seat. (prosetry)

Sits uneasily, bus seat perfunctory.
A lump of hard plastic.
Stares through the once was window, now just a diary of scratches and rage.
Watches uncertain possibilities of herself huddling around trash-can fires, scrounging through back alleys behind steaming food stores.
Standing staring back with vacant yet accusing eyes.

Sees herself in the cracks.
The could have been.
Might have been.
Almost was.
Hot and heavy tears,
Almost unfallen,
Often unnoticed.
Always unsure.
Perhaps they fall for all the could-have-beens.
Perhaps they fall because I’m uncertain on which side of the glass I belong.
Feels lucky.

Feels guilty.
Hates the burden of this unwanted blame.
Unresolved guilt builds into anger.
Resents your unspoken accusations.
Sick with self-doubt about how true they may actually be.
Hates these imagined obligations of grief, twisted and embedded in my head.
All these not-so-very-unlikely possible, potential versions of me.

I hate them.
I hate you.
I hate myself.
I hate society, for making me feel as though I should constantly feel lucky.

Lucky to be as damaged and fucked up and empty as I really am.
Oh, so lucky.

punishment?

Please explain my existence,
Society, and it’s distance,
That only ever amplifies this
Self imposed resistance.
Decorating pillows with tears,
My armor but a quilt,
Alone, confused, helpless,
Masturbation and guilt.
I must have murdered an angel
In a previous life, now I atone,
Endlessly tortured and punished,
My brain is not my own,
Just constant echoes of darkness,
Alone, Alone, Alone.

Back So Soon?

This is the path I chose,
And here I am undone.
A clown without her clothes
In front of everyone.

Liar Liar Liar,
For closer to the fire,
What seemed like shining wings
Are melting waxen things.

‘As fake as a wedding cake’,
The Manson lyric goes.
I’ll be the slice left on the plate
That no-one ever chose.

Talks a lot
But says nothing.
Takes a lot
But never brings.

No more, no more,
I said before.
Yet here I write,
Poetry whore.

Moving Foward (quotes)

Part 1: Identifying The Pieces.

– – –

“To whom do I owe the biggest apology?
No one’s been crueler than I’ve been to me.

I’m sorry to myself,
My apologies begin here before everybody else.

I’m sorry to myself,
For treating me worse than I would anybody else.”

– Alanis Morissette / Sorry to Myself

Interlude..

And now for something completely diff…
well.. ok, pretty much the same

Express Elevator Down:
to Major Depressive Episode?

Don’t mind if I do.

“I am just going outside and may be some time.”

Feeling a little like…

‘Who cares if one more light goes out?
In a sky of a million stars
It flickers, flickers.
Who cares when someone’s time runs out?
If a moment is all we are,
We’re quicker, quicker.
Who cares if one more light goes out?’
-One More Light / Linkin Park

‘Please don’t go, I want you to stay,
I’m begging you, please, please don’t leave here.
I don’t want you to hate for all the hurt that you feel.
The world is just illusion trying to change you.
Being like you are, well, this is something else.
Who would comprehend?’
-Illusion / VNV Nation

—-

Eyes Closed

The cold air stings
Like a slap without sound.
Head thrown back,
I watch storm-clouds gather ’round.

Freezing wind whips over me,
I feel it through my shirt,
The pain it brings is welcoming,
No wounds, but still the hurt.

And I hear the rush
Of the breeze,
And the roar
Of the free-
Way beneath me.

Close my eyes, and I know
I could do it.
Just another one,
I could become,
A statistic.

I could become the delay
The commuters all hate,
Cos I ruined their day..

With my eyes closed.

poorly timed

Tick.
I used to have a dream.
Tock.
I was on the cover of a magazine.
Tick.
Now all I do I scream.
Tock.
Doesn’t that seem..
Tick.
..Wrong?

Miss Mirror

Hello there Miss Mirror,
Don’t I see you crying?
Don’t I watch you dying
Day by day?

Well hey there Miss Mirror,
I cannot be fake with you,
I cannot help hating you
In every way.

I wish you dead Miss Mirror,
I want to smash your face in,
There’s no beauty I see within
You anyway.

“…I want to get off.”

I smile and pretend like I’m ok,
And everyone I know
Views me that way.
But my masks are made from stone and lead,
And I carry them all
Inside of my head.

I know there’s something wrong with me,
But I don’t know what, and
No one can see
The cuts that run across my skin,
Where my soul seeps out,
And the world creeps in.

I don’t know about this thing called life,
Seems like it’s just a metaphor
For suffering and strife.
I’ve tried to see the beauty others see,
But I’m really not so sure
This world is for me.

Mary, Mary..

What’s this?
This
Disembowelled flower?
Bearer of petals no longer.
Seeker of sunlight,
Blind beggar.
Trapped without garden.
Empty without rain.
I wither in darkness,
Unable to grow.

uh..

Your nimble tongue
Loads my velvet gun, and
I’m about to go off.

Skilled fingers test
My trigger, pressed,
Touch both firm and soft.

Our bodies fit together,
Book collections on a shelf.
Amazing how much touching you
Is like touching myself.

I love too well each dip and swell,
Your every perfect curve.
I hate how much I’m feeling that
You’re more than I deserve.

lesson learned

I guess you missed the sign on my forehead,
The one that says I’m a loser.
You shouldn’t be over here talking to me,
I’m told I’m a life abuser.

Narcissistic, arrogant, selfish.
I’ve really been put in my place.
Shallow, worthless and stupid,
I’m told I’m a waste of space.

Why do I go on living this way?
I should stop wasting everyone’s air,
No one would miss me if I were to go,
I’m told that no-one would care.

Who is it that tells me these things?
Why it’s me, myself, of course.
A little self education
Is simply par for the course.

permission to self-hate

May I not look into myself
And find,
I’m not where I wished to be
At this particular time?
Why always try to
Invalidate my self-disappointment, or
Disregard my undirected rage?
My introspective deconstruction
Is my valid cage.
My right to hate myself,
Completely just.
How dare you say I mustn’t,
When I must, I must.
I must.

something to destroy

I lie in shadows,
Bleeding away my happiness.
A filthy unwashed gutter
Too worthy a bed.

Such painful sanity,
And terrifying awareness
Rip recursive holes in my mind.

I scream inside
And cannot stop,
Each breath between
Inhales self-hatred.

I tear out my self and soul
With bloody violence.
I don’t want them,
I despise them.

They might be me,
Or just something to destroy.
And I knew,
Oh god I knew
The emptiness within.

Broken bottles and rusting cans.
If I could cut myself to pieces
With these poor tools,
Would I still remain
A dark stain
On the world?

self

Emotionally drained, and I can’t feel my face,
But I can feel the beating I gave myself again.
Every emotional punch
So savage and well aimed,
Surprising no hard bruises remain.
Nobody hates me like I do,
I hate the part that hates me too.
All the mistakes that I can see
In everything I try to be,
Send me further under, and
Tear my heart asunder.

makes sense..

If I write things for myself,
And I like what I have writ,
But hating myself wholly
Is, I must admit,
A fundamental part of me,
At least the largest bit.
Reason and logic would therefore dictate,
That anything I ever write or create,
Is something I should hate..