Self-Preservation

Poetry

Blank faces lost, pale like corridor walls
Scarce in self reflections, hammering on doors
Lock combinations forgotten
Rats roam around labyrinth
Thinking with damaged brains, half dead
There is no exit
Imminent isolation incoming
Incomplete for eternity
Their eyes blink senselessly
Life will always end in apathy
Wounded after attacks, miscalculated strategies
Fools thought that killing each other
Will lead to survival and self-preservation
There is no one left standing
Flies circle past the pitiful sight
The weeping walls of the empty corridor
Seen too many desperate attempts
People who were trying to find themselves
Filled with lies
Swamp nesting in their minds
Reality suffocated, useless humans
Relying on blank faces to pretend

 

 

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The Wrong Kind of Medicine

Poetry, Writing

It’s the wrong kind of medicine
Misdiagnosed prescription
The pills swallowed whole
Floating in the toilet bowl
The taste reminds me of regrets
Anxiety induced tongue twister
They said I should despise myself
And be afraid of everything
Become a rotten wooden raft
In the middle of nowhere, shaking
I wear the mask of self-fulfilling prophecy
When the storm hits, I allow it
Thanks to my useless education
Hollow advice from cold hearts
I am part of the cause for this tempest
It’s the wrong kind of medicine
Labels injected deep into skin
Slowly turning into a part of me
I am the church of self hatred
Practice my holy beliefs and hate me
Drink from the goblet of expectations
I have many tears to waste
It’s easy for a walking disgrace
That’s what they said in my head
Those voices are always correct
If I was a painting I would be dripping in red
Thoughts like mine always bleed-
The self destructive taste
Cannibalistic way of living
I pray in my own altar in front of the mirror
And break like glass, silently shattering
It’s the wrong kind of medicine
To think of yourself as a burden
Clinging to the victim status
Has never treated anyone

Broken Records

Poetry

Oceans unaware, eyes tied
Seagulls faraway screeching
Waves pushed aside like blankets
Anxious routines, broken records keep on circling
Blinds closed and then opened
Feeling the air, empty handed
Phrases repeat themselves
Never been used to silence
The light is also blinding
That screen is an exception
Same programme from 7am
I’m still paying attention
Another day, it’s all the same
Prepared beds, medication ready
They shut the lights, I try to drift to sleep
Counting from a thousand to zero
Backwards in threes

Burden

Poetry

Inflicted damage through corrupt touch
I am the infected- bearing wounds under the skin
Living lifelessly in the asylum nightmare
My lips were kissed by seductress silence
She turned my tongue into a broken forge
I could not craft any more words
Frozen solace, my only comfort
These solemn routines permanently haunt me
I have dug my own grave with my bare hands
For my head to rest
Bury me slowly, I am nothing but a burden
Blind from the flood of misery and terrified
I must have been allergic to life

Innocence

Poetry

Filthy devil in an angel’s costume
Hovering around my shoulder:
“Innocent souls get eaten alive
I know how you lived a holy life
But now it’s time for you to die”

“Pack responsibilities away
Close the lid, say your goodbyes
Fade into the mist like a ghost
Float into the town of snow”

“Silent whispers lead you in
Serpents come to taste your sin
Cause no one needs your innocence”

“You are like a toy to play with
Stay where you are- don’t make a move
gourmets will sever your tongue into two”

“Angels and devils, we are all the same
Playing with death is our favourite game
Now you can’t shout for God to appear
No one will save you- no one will care”

Glass Pillow

Poetry

Weave her a rope to hold on to
Strong enough for such weak hands
Listen if she speaks in your ear
If not she’ll soon disappear
Blood is scalding deep inside her
Like that rosemary tea you drank up
It was comforting, no it’s not
This life is drinking you up
Can you feel it?
Lay down on your glass pillow
Sleep if you want, but you’ll never wake up
Pay attention to what she wants to say
She’s your life and she’ll never go away
You could hang like an ironed shirt
But don’t be a coward, embrace her
Open your arms and run
There’s heaven and hell inside of us
And the unknown is just another day

Forlorn

Poetry, Writing

I’m nothing and everything at once
Thoughts closed inside a box
Day turning into the night
I see, the moon is suspended
In the sky from a tight rope to hold on to
Or to end your life with
I’m always in the middle of everything
An island made of ice, floating to an unplanned route
without a compass- not for an adventure but for some answers
My mind is torn, after all, I’m forlorn

Cigarette Smoke

Poetry, Writing

Thoughts conjured inside my head
The sharp doubts like a failed acupuncture
Scraping the brain cells into pieces
for consumption of strangers
I don’t know why I think and how I’m supposed to
I allow myself to be forced into patterns of self-destruction
A clown bowing down to lick dirty shoes
Face paint ruined- “I laughed too much” –
Will be a good enough excuse
For all I know the end keeps occurring
It throws us off balance
Into the empty pool of darkness
Where I cannot seem to find anyone
And me- I always feel it
How she’s approaching from a distance
The void hissing her teeth
My conjured thoughts will erase me someday
And I will fade like a cigarette smoke into nothingness

Reptilian Blues

Poetry

The beast within lingers
Like a snake deeply hidden
Somewhere inside my skin
Bones replacing branches of feral amazonian trees
It’s twisted around my ribs
Just an inch to stop me from breathing
If the sun rays were scalpels
I would ask to be cut open
To be reborn again
My blood flows like a river
I’m alive but not living
There’s something in me
And it keeps slithering
Words taste like slime
I don’t say anything
I feel defeated