Hate me, so

Feelings are so…
Contradictory
That’s what haunts me so
It’s almost obligatory
To feel anger along with sympathy
Going round in circles in my mind
Till I can’t decide who is wrong or right
And it pains me to the ends of this earth
It sounds dramatic
But I feel it in my chest
It fucking HURTS!

And with me
It’s day in and day out
Just constant torment
And then I just want to scream and shout
Try to pacify my mind
Play guitar, watch a film
Tell myself just to focus on my life
But then I can’t let go
And I hate me, so

Day three I vow to make self-improvements
By day five, I slipped back or I never even made any movements
I can never remember
I just know I still hate me, so
Day six, I say, “Try again.”
And off I go, along this crazy train
Pacing along the tracks
Thinking “Did I move forwards, or did I go back?”
I can never remember.
I just know I still fucking hate me, so.

Get away!

I don’t have room for sympathy
For you
Or empathy
It’s been torture
All these times going round my head
Through cycles of anger and apologetic sorrow
I can’t do it anymore
Not today, not tomorrow
I cared too much
And you walk over me like I’m dirt on your shoe
I’m supposed to feel for you
“He’s ill” they say
Well, I can’t care anymore!
Get the fuck away!
GET THE FUCK AWAY

 

Dragonfish

Inspired by a story I’ve been working on for a couple of years now, comes the following poetry:

The world is a sheet of hazy blue

but that still won’t keep me from you

oceans wide, oceans apart

where did we depart?

Why, Jessica, are the jitter bugs in you

when you’re having the time of your life

watching me trying to ignite

do you see I’m just a dragonfish

blind, but trying to become light?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hell

I can’t find my place

even among misfits

want out of this race

got no path I can see to trace

and I don’t think I can

be the man

I thought I wanted to be anyway

courage is not known by me

he’s simply a stranger I know I could never be

I don’t want to live inside myself

I’m my own misfortune, my own hell

sometimes I dare to think I could even dream

but then I fall back down to earth

and I see

I am not the man I sought to be

And I wish taking a life would be easier

because one more day inside this skin

is just endless torture.

Working on a book

Hello people in my harem,

I’m working on a book with my poetry and a few other bits here and there.

Currently in the process of trying to figure out organising this thing.

This is also why I haven’t recently posted any new poetry, as i am keen on keeping some poems exclusive to the book.

I already have a working title, I will not be revealing that till I get further in the process.

In the mean time I may post older poetry, new poetry written exactly for the purposes of having something to post here.

But it would do me a favour if you wish to reblog any of my posts, share, like or follow. Every like or follow helps construct the illusion I need to uphold, that being that my words are getting me somewhere 😉

Working on a book

hello, to all the people in my harem and others.

I’m working my way through collections of my poetry and other bits of writing to put in a book.

This is why I’ve not been posting new poetry lately, as I wish to keep some exclusive for the book so some poems can remain unread and new to anyone who reads my blog.

For now though it would do me a massive favour if you wish to reblog, share and like any poetry or other pieces of mine.

 

 

Severe sanity

I have a theory, though I must add it’s not a scientific one. But through observation of people, I’ve come to the conclusion that delusion is a fundamental part of the human psyche.
I believe that a small amount of delusion is needed for human functioning, that delusions are indeed survival mechanisms.
A person either has just enough delusion to function and get them through their lives, or his or her delusions take over and prevent functioning. But there is a third type of person, a person who lacks the ability to believe in a delusion, a person who notices almost every contradiction meaning they couldn’t believe if they tried. Their lives become what can only be verbally and in writing expressed as a living hell. It’s a subset of depression. It’s severe sanity.

Sanity to the extremes in a human mind is dangerous. Because with such extreme sanity, your head will be played with, with a constant barrage of contradictions that others seemingly don’t notice. It means you also see that there is no grander meaning to life; you see it for what it is. Because life is everything yet everything in the scheme of things means nothing. There is no grander purpose. We have a biological drive to help us in the here and now and nearer future, but we see that even the here and now don’t really amount to anything with meaning. That the only way meaning can exist is for us to create a meaning, but to create that meaning you need to be able to function like a human being who doesn’t suffer from severe sanity. You need a delusion. A positive delusion. And where can a severely sane person require a delusion, once they’re aware that everything humans believe to keep themselves going, to give them meaning is a delusion?

I don’t know. Where can we go, with all our fucks? We have no delusions to pack them into.

And if you think I don’t notice the contradiction of posting a post on a blog for others to read, as if somehow you can help a person like me, or as if my writing means anything I am fully aware while writing this, that this post doesn’t even matter. And that to even write it is stupidity in the face of what i have just said. But thats just another reason it hurts to be me. Because all these repetive days that go on, i carry on all the while knowing the only logical answer.

I hate myself

I disturb me. I’m tired of life and death, I’m tired of me. I’m tired of other people and their baggage, their emotions, their problems, their excuses. I’m tired of what I go through not being worthy of the pain I feel. It makes me feel pathetic, I hate when I see someone with genuine suffering and all I can think is “I have all this pain inside, and my reasons aren’t worthy of the pain I feel. My pain is not worthy yet I feel it because I’m pathetic” I feel like a clown with those endless handkerchiefs, I have endless pain. A deep harrowing hole that can’t be emptied, that can’t be fulfilled. It can’t be either because it’s nothing and it’s everything.

What I really want to do is, cut myself off from the world, allow myself to mourn life and take a painless exit.