#2

"I cut a sorry figure,"
He thought, walking away,
Leaving behind the smell of her
In the sweet demise of the day.

Always too weary to care,
He dragged his body through the night,
Ignoring the incessant ignoble stare
Of soulless sight, born of dim desperate light.

fumbled for keys, dropped them to the floor.
picked them with shaky hands, unlocked the door.

and stepped into the cold expectant shade
of the sanctuary of mindless servitude that he'd made.

The bare walls still accused him,
The lighter patches of paint want their hangings back.
The bowler, the fedora, the wide-brim
Are no more there, but just shadows on the rack.

The nude floor felt chill against his skin
(He'd sold the carpets too, when the need was bad.)
Pawning was okay, 'coz stealing is Sin,
But he'd long ago sold all that he had ever had.

went back again, bolted the latch.
stripped off his clothes, chuckled "Now we match."

fumbled in pocket, brought out the Bag.
sniffed it deeply, let his shoulders sag.

He'd tried hard, again and again,
Till he broke himself on the rocks of misery.
A shiver racked his spine, worse than pain;
Drear realisation: "I'll never be free."

Through Sweat and Chills and Madness
He found Water, and Needle, and Fire.
Weak is the mind, weaker is the flesh-
Always allured by all-consuming Desire.

sitting, humming, "Hello, cold turk, my old friend,
we've come a long way, here's the end."

watching Water boil, pouring Packet in.
fumbling again in coat, for the tiny sip of gin.

He looked down
At the veins, streaked blue, green and shame,
The telltale pinpoint scars, the druggie's crown
Made of white Snow and Futility and Flame.

Everything was done, and so was he-
Empty man in empty room of void shadow.
He looked down in morbid melancholy
Leisurely life well-wasted, but no Keepsake for the Show.

sighed a little
    and plunged the needle
sighed some more
    all thought turned null.

looked for a memory, tried to cry
or move a bit, or laugh, or sigh.

NOTHING but potent ecstasy,
NOTHING but an endless fall.
      nothing to hold on to, nothing to lose
      nothing to try to live for at all.

#1

As the chilly, clammy night
Presses insistently on my skin again
             In a darkness that
               silently declares its entirety
                 so as to drown out
                   all cries
                     for Help.

As I let my lead-weighed, deadweight
Body succumb to exhaustion
                             I want to stand
                          a minute longer
                        so as to reach out
                      and call
                    for You.

And maybe I could tell you

That your fears are valid,
And the fright is real,
But your nightmares hold just as much power
As you let them.

That the Noise of the world
Is really just made of several silences
And every silence is eager to tell its Story
If you care to listen.

That the sobs that wrack your body sometimes
Are reflected a million times everywhere,
But the questions that stare back at you in the mirror
Are yours alone.

That most of your education was lies.
That pain isn't necessary to know of pleasure.
That the Universe doesn't really give a shit.
That Karma isn't real.

That it is your insignificance
In the greater scheme of things
Which lets you be gloriously SIGNIFICANT
For just the tiniest of moments.

That heartbreak is as bad as it sounds
And all morality is overrated.
Because all your truths, and mine, in the End
Belong to a larger lie.

That failure, once or many times, comes cheap
But surrendering is unaffordable.
That the men who refuse to meet your eye
Will never meet your expectations.

That the little girl peddling a rainbow of flowers
Never had a real chance at anything
And she is a reminder of how unfair life is
And how lucky you are.

That somewhere between heresy and blind belief
Our fear of the Inevitable End ties us together.
That women everywhere around the world
Have pretty eyes.

That I have tried hard and long
To make you believe in this one life you own,
And I hope the unbearable ecstasy of being pervades your days
And lets you sleep at night.

That as the night grows darker than darkness
I know you know all I could've told you
But I hope you're still around
To let me help you
To help me somehow.

A Revival

I have decided to restart this blog again after a while.
I encourage you to ignore all the weird shit that is published beyond this post, because
A> They were written by 2008 me, who was a semiliterate teenager, and

B> Most of it is just really ridiculous.

However, I won't be deleting any of it, so you can go right ahead and look at the weird shit a 13 year old can spew.

Cheers.