Saturday, November 14, 2009

The plague

I hate you, but I can't. Guilt ridden thoughts, I grovel at your feet.
I cling to your words yet the lies crash against me, slowly seeping in and planting their seeds.
Why can't I just rid myself of you?
The roots of the lies encompass my brain, my vision is tainted and all I see is the black hole of deception. Dog eat dog world, but I don't want to be a cannibal. Abnormal. Do I have any other choice?
Walking alone in fields of hatred, why can't I choose my own path?
My path has been walked many times before, what waits for me at the end?
Surely I can prolong this madness, I'll be the righteous on in a swarm of black.
You're like a plague, making people sicker by the minute.
But it won't shut off, it never shuts off.
Why me?

Monday, July 13, 2009

Addiction has friends

Sweet little lies, not sweet enough to believe, is an addict ever content?
Will an addict ever know the answer?
Feeding off addiction, but an addiction to what?
Sex, drugs, the abuse- mental, emotional, physical torture inflicted on oneself.
Caring through thin veins, that had been hacked time and time again.
Too close to the skin yet not close enough to make it all cease.
The pain is constant, but why?
Why must one being be shattered and another be glorified?
An addict cannot find the answer when they cannot fully comprehend the question.
Would you survive it?

Wednesday, July 1, 2009


DR Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
Different personalities, or just different moods?
She can't keep up, the sudden advances and anger bursts are sending her to a place she cannot escape. Yet, she doesn't want too. The blackness has become a comfort thought, a friend in times of need.
The only thing familiar, spitting acidic lies, making her feel unworthy- she claws to it, the monkey(in her head) tells her it's all true.
Alter egos far too confusing for a riddled mind. Breeding with rats, plauged with sickness.
Oh, the perks of insanity.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Play toy

Open legs, moist liquid runs down your thighs, silly whore, simple lies.
Pure lust and poison in your words, deadly sins, ungodly times.
What are you?
You don't even know, yet enough people tell you the answer that you so seek.
Ungrateful whore, strange girl.
Dick junkie?
No you're something more.
A creation even God himself can't control.
Hateful creature, sinful slag.
Hope leaves, you're left alone.
You're wrong, so wrong.

Monday, June 22, 2009


I will let you believe you affect me, defeat me with your words when really I'm just buying my time. Bare feet grace the cracked earth below, steadily they follow in your footsteps. Your shadow casts a haunting image of deceit overhead, constantly driving a knife into the naked flesh of my back. I continue to chase you though, false hope- my fuel.
One day these games will stop, only I'll be half the person I used to be. Open wounds and broken trust, hardly human.
An object for display, an object for amusement, an object for comfort; multi-purpose.
Buying time to feel a sense of worth, the money has run dry, self-loathing takes over. I'll have you know, you weren't what defeated me and you were never worth it.
Consider it lesson learnt, next time I'll take it for free, I've got nothing left.
Fallen angel wandering helplessly, you'd dig deep and find me if you cared as much as you claim.
I see your inner demons and do not feel hate, though I should.
You're heart is blackened with sins, how do you hold your head high?

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Heroes or demons?

Heroes are a lie, a comfort thought for those who believe they are too weak to carry themselves through the trials and tribulations life presents. Nobody is a saint, I can guarantee you anyone that you look up to has made mistakes in their own lives that they regretted, or learnt from.
Idolising fictional beings is bullshit as well, how can you idolise something that has no idea of the pain, joy and spectre of emotions it takes to become a strong human being? To develop a survival instinct?
I don't have heroes, I have people I respect for their morals, beliefs, passions and the being they made themselves into.
My Nanna was the most fantastic person I have had the pleasure to know, a beautiful, strong and determined woman.
She had a massive influence on the person I am today, without her to teach me how to keep my chin up and hold my head high, I think I would have rid the world of my presence long ago.
I can honestly say she was my bestfriend. She protected me yet showed me the beauty of freedom and finding yourself- creating yourself.
Even though she had emphysema, arthritis and other problems, not once did she complain. She never uttered one word of how she was hurting, other people always came first. Even when she found out she had brain tumas, she put on a brave face in front of everyone else.
I know I could never do that, the amount of courage and compassion it would take to do that overwhelms me.
Yet we have teenagers idolising people like Paris Hilton because she lives a fast-paced life of drugs, one-night stands and does nothing for a living. Ohh, she's rich and famous, therefore we must idolise her because she is a spoilt bitch?
Fuck no.
My Nanna worked all of her life, looked after two children, cleaned the house and still made sure she put food on the goddamn table.
It fucking sickens me seeing twelve year old girls flaunting themselves because they idolise a corrupt image and idea.
I wish my Nanna could have been around to see that I've blossomed with a sense of morals and self-respect. I hope I have and can continue to make her proud.
Always in my heart, rest in peace.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Liar, liar.

You can see it in her eyes, the amount of hurt she has suppressed, the guilt for the hurt she caused too.
You know of her scars, you have seen them on those perfect thighs, you tell her you care but you are never there for her.
You know those scars tell the story that you cannot speak, too many taboo topics and too many hurt words.
You know so much has been left unsaid, and things that should never have been voiced escaped parted lips.
You know too much, yet you know nothing, despite what you may think.
You think you can read her, though you clearly have no idea.
You think your hurt is the only one, but you turn your back to her, you will not see her waste away.
You think you are doing the right thing, but it may end up being very wrong.
All she ever wanted was to love you.

"When you close your eyes to see
The truth that's inside me
May you hold your breath to breathe
Your empty reality

If you had eyes to see
Down inside your stomach
Then you would understand
What I mean
Who I am
Who I am"
-Eyes to see by Flyleaf.
Too much Flyleaf and Garbage for Captain, methinks.

Perfection and her friends.

Lean legs, tiny waist, huge tits, lies spill from her lips.
Minions gather from foreign lands, cradling the words that fall from her deceitful mouth to their chests. Practice the words of the preacher and you will get by fine.
Practice makes perfect, slave, slave, dirty whore.
Perfection was given a name and a small black dress, thrown into a pair of heels and told to flaunt her assets. God blessed this child, oh yes indeed.
She serves as eye candy to all his men and their dishonest thoughts.
Repent for your sins, sorry, sorry, repeat mistakes.
Adultery is a lie; there is no shame in appreciating god’s fine work.
The book was full of falsehoods, now she will correct them in her sultry monotones.
Such a perfect girl, a world of sin written on her body, forgotten names between her thighs.
Belief is salvation, pretend, pretend, heaven waits.
Perfection at its finest?
Is society corrupt or just saturated in fear and loathing?

Sunday, May 31, 2009

Alice in Love

From the moment I met you, I was fascinated in chasing you down the rabbit hole. You offered me something I felt nobody else could give and I ran head first into the trip with a smile. You enticed me with drugs and my reality became a twisted, sensual and beautiful mess. Every waking moment that passed was one of intensity and I felt like in your arms I was safe and invincible.
Your touch, kiss and smell lingered long after your presence had withdrawn and the comedown of hitting the cold, rock floor at the end of the hole was a shock to my system. I felt abandoned and abused, my body crying out for just one more quick fix to ebb the pain.
Following a trail of breadcrumbs I was lead to the darkest hall I should ever face, one of judgement and tribulation. I learnt to stand on my own two feet and of new quick fixes to pass the time, but they were nothing compared to the sweet taste of lust you prescribed. It was then I realised what you lack, upon also realising that everyone is mad in Wonderland, not just I. You lacked the pure simplicity I grew to adore. My body became numb to your touch and developed a fondness for another’s embrace; never again I vowed to fall into the void of madness.

Lust in the Movies

Lying in your own bodily juices spilled from your one night-stand, passion and lust carved into your skin. You bathe in your filth, enjoying the putrid smell of sex and lies, a mixture of broken home remedies. Society does not shun you, though deep down you know you deserve it. See, you are the typical painted picture of today’s society; it embraces you and worships your existence for everyone else is exactly the same. Monogamy is a word that has become lost in translation like the biblical text you preach and do not practice. Daddy’s little girl is a dirty whore. Although she scrubs herself clean of her latest sexual escapade, the guilt and stains will never leave her alone. Behind her eyes is a world of half-truths, perfect faces and forgotten names. Though Daddy does not see this, he latches onto the falsehoods and creates a film of transparency to her words.
She is just the perfect little daughter, the perfect little student, the perfect little slut. Sucking cock in the name of love, choking on her words- what is the point?

Trick and Deceit

I believe the smartest people hurt most in life, they see it for what it really is. They deify the rules and tricks that try to elude them from the inevitable conclusion that it is all worth the pain in the end. But is it really?
I believe life after death is an endless nothing, except for your soul. Your soul will come back many times, each time a little more battered and bruised. So if life is a game, who is the master? And who ever really wins?
No one.
People believe in God to ease the fear, now I feel no fear. I'm ready to let go and feel nothing, numbness walks with me, hand in hand.
So, while the population remains oblivious, there will always be those who are more intelligent and see things realistically, the ones who are hurting a little more each day.

Sweet Dreaming

"There is someone else, they're better than you ever could be..." He turned to walk away as she reached for him and he brushed her off in idle bemusement. Hands fall limp beside her shaking frame, the smooth bitter words running over and over in her mind.
She turns to him and says "I like to think that somewhere out there, on a planet exactly like ours, two people exactly like you and me made totally different choices and that, somewhere, we're still together."
He takes her in his arms and sweeps her off her feet, that was- of course, when she woke up and realised it was just a dream.

Love Drunk

The taste of you still lingers on my breath, my skin like ice where your hands used to rest. Distance has made me grow cold, shivering under the thin film of your presence that dwells on the air. It has become stale, yet I still try to breathe you and draw you deep into my being- fill myself with life, I once used to know how that felt.
Now my laugh sounds unfamiliar even to my own ears, it is forced and broken. I have become nothing but a hollow entity buying time trying to please others. Ever so caring and always hurt in return. I am their puppet, they muse themselves with me until the novelty wears off and I become old and boring. They say jump, I ask how high, all in a bid to keep their dishonest hearts happy.
Hazily I remember the days when happiness consumed me, now it is nothing but cheap wine and a packet of cigarettes, numbness is happiness, right?
Thoughts of you intoxicate me, love drunk I weep for all my loss. The way you looked at me as if no one else existed placed a lock on my heart. Unaware I am your prisoner, you are slowly killing me. Of course that isn’t your fault, I’m the mess.
Before I slowly drift into an endless oblivion, the only thing I want to remember is you and if ‘God’ should be so cruel as to make me enter this same void again, the only thing I want to recognise is you.
Nobody else mattered, but you did not see that, no one understood.
So close my eyes and kiss me softly, you will not see this haunted face again. My eyes will no longer reveal my secrets.

Old Musings

Just some stuff I wrote a little while back thought I may aswell post it.

Withered heart, shattered mind
Broken trust, deadly lies
Abused faith, loss of love
Masked phantom of the night.

Lurking in shadows, feeding off pain
Morals abandoned, evolved from hate
Consumed with anger, silent tears
Masked Phantom.

Routine composure, crooked smile
Torturous thoughts, gripping stares
Weakened victims, hungry hands
Night Creature.

Determined movements, cold eyes
Void of emotion, macho man
Stalking innocence, lustful purpose

I've felt my fair share of loss, shed myself of tears
Learnt to suck it all up, they never think twice
Silent prosecution, the judgement never ends
We just learn to survive feeding off others

And when they turn their backs, I weep for all my loss
For even when surrounded- we are always alone
Struggling to contain it, I fall to my knees
Battered and bruised, I can't pick myself up this time
No one will save me; I discovered that in the past
Darkness consumes me and I accept my fate
This could have been different,
If only someone cared.

Sew your seed
Spreading your lies,
like the seed of life, let me breathe them in;
A safety blanket of you around my heart;
poisonous words and deceit.
I kiss you and taste it on your lips,
and what will you do when it all comes crashing down?
When your past hunts you, ready for the kill?
When I'm not there to lick your wounds clean?
When I love you isn't enough?
You will fall, hitting the ground with a thud
And I will pick up the shards of you heart,
cradling it to my chest;
Now maybe it will only belong to me.
The roles reversed.

Abuse Me

How can you hurt me so much?
Scar me and abuse me?
You tell me it's okay, I'll live
I forgive you and run into your arms like a lost child chasing a dream
Marks are carved into my skin for every time my eyes cried for you,
but my heart is locked in a cage only you can open.
I'm stuck in purgatory and you won't save me.
I thought I was special...
Now I've just become another of your ragdolls,
Used and empty.
You'll be the end of me, m'dear
You'll breathe new life into me and I'll be happy, right?
Please let your lies intoxicate me again, please?