I love to hate and there’s nothing people can do about it. They say I should smile more, have a proper conversation with people instead of just always snapping and telling them to fuck off. They say that I could be more than what I am right now. I am smart, they say. They say. They say. And what about what I say? Fuck people. They think they know what other people should be and do for their lives. They think they can help people like me to be more like them. Well, fuck them again. I don’t even remember when’s the last time I have a good conversation with people or when’s the last time I have become me. Because as far as I can remember, I’m one of the best pretenders in the world. One of the best “I’m okay” people. And, what? No one asks me how I am. If I give them fake smiles and a shitty assurance, they would’ve accepted it as the truth and that’s it. I think I have lost hope. I think I am just waiting for that time where humans will die out and just leave this world for good. For nature to take it all in again and nurture it. I’m no longer excited to wake up. I can’t get ahold of happiness and I didn’t know if I’m still capable of being happy.
This world won’t hear anything from me, but I’m screaming. My lungs are about to give out. I’m sorry, I’m just so tired of being like this. I am trying so hard to get out of this misery but I just can’t find the way out. And I hate people. I hate me.
I feel less and less Alive everyday. I’m hungry but I don’t know how To feed me. I’m lost and I Can’t find my way. I wanted to write But my words Don’t rhyme to Create a poetry. I am sad, bitter And lonely. I crave the dark To fill my sanity. I hope, you’ll find me, Before I kill myself With my own filthy hands And cruelty.
I want you as a monochrome, Meddling in my colorful horizon. Casting out black, gray and confusion I can’t help my heart but mourn– Your darkness, desolation and doldrums Rouses me from too much imagination. Your eyes’ profound– I’m drowning in your pitch-black. The mud vein is my mishaps The mud vein is my deliverance.
Mud vein, you are a blank canvas Plain white and stash in the back. You are melodies, beats, warbles and chants You make me write, sing and dance
Mud vein, you are my envisioned Queen My rune, poem, and moon Up above the horizon, this is us Tangled in the cocoon of a blanket Keeping each other warm and alive Your arms around me Making this reality a fantasy I may be losing all of my sanity But that doesn’t matter Because we are here You and me
Maybe the reason why I stop talking that much to people is mainly because before they can even open their mouths, I already know what they’re going to say. Or close to. What I mean is that, years of observing people, analyzing them, knowing and understanding their behaviors and attitudes, made them…boring. They don’t excite me anymore. I mean, I was and will always be a curious creature, an inquisitive one who always wanted to know something, anything I can get my hands on but, as I’ve mentioned earlier, people become a boring creature. Or the world? The environment? Or is it me being “smart” as what, most of the time, people refer me to be, suck the happiness out of them, of knowing and talking to them. Maybe it is of me that they become boring. I observe them way too much that their actions or reactions don’t bother the hell out of me anymore. It feels like, me looking to life is just like watching the same movie or reading the same book for the umpteenth time but unlike movies or books, life no longer excites me. I don’t even remember when’s the last time I got so excited it makes me jittery. Or makes my heart beats too fast not because of anxieties or anything but because I’m excited. I miss being excited. I miss being real. I miss being the past, whom people usually wanted to remember. I miss being the rainbow who, people looks forward to after the rain. Okay okay, I was never afraid of oblivion, of not being remembered, I mean I want people to just notice the “me” right now and not the “me” that they’ve known before. I want them to just see and recognize me for who I am. And then, life exhausted me. Like royally. And I’m so tired of trying because, I know life and people will continue to disappoint me. And I will continue to disappoint me too and as much as I hate to say this but, I am really disappointed in myself for a long time now and I’m not even doing anything about it because again, why and for what? I’m burned out. And I don’t know a way out and I don’t even want an escapee route. I really think I’m done. But, well, I’ll carry on. I’m a coward yes, but I have conscience. And also, I have inflicted way too much pain to people’s asses I don’t want to add another suffering. And the world is too much, and I’m too much I’m already bursting out, piece by piece, but I’ll carry on. I’ll carry on even if it’s mean I’ll have to kill myself everyday, I’ll carry on.
Inspired from The Dark Descent Of Elizabeth Frankenstein by Kiersten White…
Here in your bedroom, I feel secured Your arms around me making me feel like the most precious creature ever existed I let myself be yours forever not knowing who I truly was in the first place I let myself turn away whenever you murder somebody close to me Making multiple excuses for your madness and cruelty I let myself be blinded by the idea of you being my savior and protector You made me your possession, to be your very own I considered myself lucky for that is what I wanted in the beginning Not seeing the dark, sharp teeth you were hiding underneath your crooked, boyish grins You go all the way to the ends of the Earth to find the best gift for me in our wedding But all I find are corpses, knifed to the heart by your own delicate hands that used to comfort me during storms and lightnings Now I have to freed myself from your grasp I am done being the one who always snuggle at your side Dependent to your existence, oblivious to my capabilities and confidence Then one night you screamed and it sounded like howling that had pierced my ears I had to run at your side as fast as I can For that little girl is still inside of me that always thinks you needed my presence I step in the dark hallway, Awaiting for the monster that causes your misery Then your silhouette illuminated and seizes me Taking me with you to the deepest part of this tangled reality
They will come at night, always in the darkest of the day will they crawl inside your body and you can do nothing about them nor stop them from doing filthy things. They’ll scratch until your skin glisten and achy. They will tear your brain and snap every artery on your so-called body. These Whisperers in the night are the reasons behind every doubt and distrust. The culprit of your devastated thinking. They will stop at nothing til nothing remains. But hear this Whisperers and you will know the truth behind their blabbing. The sea of emotions they were hiding, the infinity of abysses they try to invade just for the sake of safe keeping. But, hear me darling, this Whisperers in the night will not be going anywhere unless you act and desist from thinking too much and understanding yourself is a must. This Whisperers in the night will someday be your guide for you to beat the odds out of this life.