I’m made of the same stuff as your nightmares
I’m made of the same stuff as your nightmares
I feel out of control
If I pulled at
the wrong thought,
my whole life
would come unravelled.
Collapsing at my feet,
me with it.
If I could throw away every unstable thought I had before I let it cripple me; I would.
Ive been doing so good, but this pessimistic view it consumes me.
I’ve never been enough, so why would now be any different.
That’s what I tell myself not to tell myself.
Lifes a trip; trips lead you into the ground.
So weak and thin
Yet they contain ideas
So powerful and sweeping
The smell of you
Lingers in my bedsheets
Like black clouds
After a storm.
I roll around
Hoping you’d be there by my side
But I was alone
In this bed
That suddenly feels so big.
Earlier you kisses me
Until I was lost for breath
I’m all curled up
Wondering why the nights feel so long
Without you by my side.
by the waterfront i
saw in these ripples, my strange silhouette
pulling me to the surface,
the alcohol used to fill my wounds
the tears i wanted to cry
i am dressed in the morning of my own
where i felt as if a hundred voices were
telling me it’s time to fly away.
where she, at least, said i was silly
that i was a fool for remaining
but i can only wish
i can only hold her confidence and
i am scared of the water
the way others leave me
the depravity of my voice
the barrenness of my cheeks
there were nights when i would drink
and wash sorrow away with memories
but if you leave the world that i have loved
i will have lost so much
and i gazed into her beautiful eyes
her incredible eyes
and tried to hide the pain that was hurting
‘i am scared of the water’
the world inhabited by my loneliness
I can still feel the sting. You were poisoning me all this time with sweet lies. It’s all in my blood now. I smell like you. I smell sweet and toxic. I speak lies. I am addicted to everything I hated. I am everything I hated.
I did whatever I could to become invisible, faded into the background, hid in the shadows yet when they successfully failed at finding me I was rewarded with devastation rather than triumph.
by Red Focks
Three Hours of Mozartius Bach-choi and Beethovenius.
Bartholowmeusss Caneykhan and Abeleonia.
Chewing on Peppermint Patty.
The Third Planet
on the third night
in the third of thirds.
You have entered the zone.
Doveinosoes flok-th they fetherioussi fluttereth.
A bowl of cherry’s in a field of wheat and Honey-succatahatorium.
Repressed memories of the Great River Raft Race.
Snakes and goatfriends from the third and final place.
That place- OH FIE! That place is dark.
Turnabouteeiez and Triangletappahs.
You’re going to Hell, you fucking blockhead.
Schroeder cuts his dick off and bleeds to death all over his blanket.
by Red Focks
It’s black in California.
It’s white in Boston.
It will put you on the floor.
It will kill all your friends.
It needs to end.
A just cause to drop.
Then Kurt shot.
We all know Courtney shot a lot.
In a daze cause I found POT.
It’s harder to find a bag of ganga today;
than a god damn Guatemalan child.
(I feel good!)
Screaming bloody Narcan.
The back of a hippie van.
It was the rest of time.
It was the death of time.
It was dope.
Exhaustion settles in my bones, every waking moment overcome by the sluggish feeling that filters through my body as if it was natural,
Like blood pumping through my veins.
As night comes closer I’m filled with dread,
For my exhaustion sees no end.
I lay awake all night, body slow but mind racing.
How badly I long to hit the mattress and fall asleep for hours on end.
If only life was that simple,
Instead on nights where I can fall asleep,
I wake up with the same sensation rippling under my skin.
Only to continue in its cycle,
My exhaustion never sleeps.
It’s been two years since my last major episode. I had experienced the entirety of schizophrenic symptoms and now am free of them according to my doctor (aside from hallucinations of lights which are tolerable as they’re entertaining). I don’t notice a difference in myself now compared to when I was sick even though everyone else does. The world just seems like the psychotic world minus profound realizations, core-shaking emotion and telepathy. I once spoke incoherently, but the memory of being incoherent is mistaken in my mind for coherence. I am told I made no sense in psych wards, but the memory I have is that I made complete sense to myself.
-words of a schizophrenic
I always loved to read your words since I actually met you,
I read them again and again because I love to
And yes I still do
Even when we’re done and I’ve cut connections between us two
I still read them whenever I miss you
Do you ever except me to talk to you?
After all the things that you said and put me through
Your love was toxic and you didn’t realize that too
Were your thoughts always clouded by the arrogance you followed through?
A haughty display is all that everyone could see of you
I saw something else always as I looked into
That’s what kept me getting swayed into everything that we have been through
As I never intended on even being close to you
And still I wonder at times if that is what has been done and pain is all that has accrued
And now I know what it was that I fell for
Those were just your words which were deep, stark and raw
There’s so much to hate:
The guy who asks if he woke you up,
The one calling out your name
While you’re speaking to someone else.
It’s enough to make you argue with them
While you’re alone, and then you realize
How crazy you are,
For you were asking your cat
In the solitude of your home
If he was comfy on your lap
And still someone butt in.
Peace is in the mind;
It’s how you deal with it.
I work from home,
Got the ideal setup,
But still the pangs of life
Come knocking, draw me from my computer
To ask, “Did I wake you up?”
My heart is chilled, haunted by the things you will tell the next girl about me, your dead love. Will you tell her about the late night talks? How we burst out laughing when I told you of crazy anecdotes? How you tried to sing a song for me even if you could not seem to hit the high notes? How about the lazy afternoon calls? How we ended cursing the heavens because of the vast distance between us? Will you tell her that? Or you will prefer to leave out all profound details of me, the old girl, now a ghost you no longer need? Tell me. Will you tell her I used to be your ray of sunshine? That I was the one you always run to when troubled and maimed? Will you tell her I fixed you patiently when you’re broken? And that with my bare hands, I tried to repaint the grey sky so you can behold the rainbow? It kills me to imagine you trying to demonize me in her ears as you whisper horrible tales about the woman who gave you her everything. Will you erase all the good memories we ever had so she won’t have a clue as to how our connection transcended physicality because we’re more than lovers urging fate to side with us? We’re soul mates, bounded by an invisible thread. It just pains me that you cut that thread yourself, without preamble. Now I am left with thoughts haunting me even when I am wide awake. Will you tell her I was a nice girl? Or will you make her think of me as the villain? Will you plant seeds of hatred in her mind too just like what you did to me when you talked about the girl before me?
I wish I knew exactly what you will tell her. So I can let go of you as gently as I’ve let you into my heart, trusting that cute smile of yours won’t pierce me in any way.
show me your scars
not the ones i can see
no show me the ones
that only you yourself have felt
the ones that go beneath your skin
the ones that make you want to give in
show me your scars
show me who you are
Its breaking my heart to leave, because I’m not ready to say goodbye. But at the same time, nobody’s there for me to bid farewell.
i’m tired being myself