A Culmination of Realities

My Entire Anthology of Poetry


Her needle was thrust deep into my veins, leaving disturbed and raw flesh exposed.

She tentatively requested me to reveal what I wished to be implanted into my skin.


As she intricately conceived my visions on my neck,

She implored me further—desperate to understand my motivations behind this rash decision.

“I am a Thorn.

I cannot help that I'm jutty, it is simply my disposition.

I cannot help that my shape is wicked, and designed to gouge out dreams and steal smiles.

I can only express myself, and embrace the fact I am a cruel thorn.

I shall provoke you with my ugly appearance, and prick you with my sharp blade.”


Skulls clog up your pants,

Filling that bulge they lusted over.

Those marks on your neck are no hickeys,

Just self-inflicted wounds.

Yet he asked me a question that I'd never entertained.

"Why broadcast your pain to the whole world?"

I laughed at that absurd question, dismissing it with one simple answer.

"I enjoy watching each and every one of them turn the other way and continue with their boring lives"

I love showing them I'm dead in order to expose the living dead.

Your fingers are spiders,

Scuttling up and down hollow and thinly woven silk in order to transport their prey to its deathbed. 


The candles are lit.

I take a moment to cast my eyes over each flickering light, representing each year of my meaningless life.

My lips release air that extinguishes each one in turn, representing the time that will consume my memory.

I thought I was safe today.

I thought this day would represent me, my joy, my love, my loyalty.

I thought this would mean more than it did to you.

I thought your blade wouldn't slice my skin tonight.

I thought I was safe.

Then the words fell from your lips like confetti, decorating the pure air with their lies.

Each one fell down my face, merging into me, becoming water.

Like cake, your saccharine smile infested my stomach.

The malice in your eyes is the only flame I shall never extinguish. 


It started out as a trivial conversation.

It started with joking, laughing.

It always does.

(But I'd thought you were different.)

"At least I'm no whore!" You said, smiling smugly to yourself as the damage spread across my bruised face.

(Betray hurt more than those fists)

"Don't act like I haven't seen those texts" he shot back at me when I turned to run.

I never thought that my love, my lust, my basic need for love would warrant such harsh reprimands.

His mouth then spoke the infamous words that I'd sent to that boy.

And yeah, I'll look you in the eyes and say goodbye.

But boy, I need you. 


I remember.

I remember when I texted the person that promised me love, and spoke words that were laced with profanity and flirtatiousness.

I remember when I felt his heartbeat, his breath on my cheek.

I remember when scars of silver coated my face.

I remember when the hallways became minutes of tense hell. Minutes rife with pain, bursting with regret.

I remember when you took of your silver mask and refused to hold me tight.

I remember when the words I whispered in your ears were amplified (now blasting at a sickeningly high volume).

I remember when my secrets spilled like the blood from my faint scars.

I remember when I kissed goodbye to love and placed a silver blade to my neck, prompted by the blind love I'd cherished. 

37|Sandy Cocaine

When you've been rotting in the depths of the earth,

When you've been decomposing as others lived their proud lives,

When you've been screaming via whispers that barely make a sound,

Your soul decomposes.

You become a corpse.

Now that I can walk; touch; sense; scream and move my previously sealed lips I will try it all to feel anything at all.

And so I find myself becoming the slut that I shamed,

As I tossed you against my bed and your pants on the floor.

And so I find that the sterotypes that I dodged like bullets are embedded in my most blatant stretches of skin.

And so I find that the words I dreaded became frequent guests to my bleeding (from the biting)  tongue. 


When you've been rotting in the depths of the earth,

When you've been decomposing as others lived their proud lives,

When you've been screaming via whispers that barely make a sound,

Your soul decomposes.

You become a corpse.

Now that I can walk; touch; sense; scream and move my previously sealed lips I will try it all to feel anything at all.

And so I find myself becoming the slut that I shamed,

As I tossed you against my bed and your pants on the floor.

And so I find that the sterotypes that I dodged like bullets are embedded in my most blatant stretches of skin.

And so I find that the words I dreaded became frequent guests to my bleeding (from the biting)  tongue. 


I felt for the first time.

I realised my body had been trapped in a thick bubble- and contaminated with words.

I realised that to feel, I had to penetrate the barriers and burst into the world; abandon every quaint mannerism I'd employed previously.

I realised that my insatiable lust for power was simply the manifestation of the tears and sweat that I'd shed during the times when malevolence was affluent.

I realised that to love was to be vulnerable.

I realised that your dirty secrets were not tolerable.


My thoughts, my urges, my compulsions, they were like butterflies that had burst from a cocoon...

For each one was embellished with colour, and was complete with flamboyance.

Each one intended to drift into the lives of others, and exist undisturbed.

(However, like butterflies, innocence and youthful naivety is always subject to persecution.)

And so they did waft (for a short while) into the lives of those I trusted.

But eventually, they learned that to avoid being slain they had to hide.

And so they hid in my head.

And so they allowed themselves to be suppressed.

And they wilted and drooped as the sunlight waited gleefully outside.

For they could never imagine running away with the millions of others that fluttered their wings and dodged the ignorant bullets. 

33|Thought Police

We say that the thought police are only existing in a parallel world far away from our idyllic utopia.

But I dare to insist that they hover amongst us today, insisting that the dissection of our impulses and thoughts is necessary.

It begun with just thoughts.

It begun with them, and how they felt in my head [toxic].

It begun with the rejection, how good it felt to reject the things they hunted for.

As each of them asked questions and pointed fingers, I could rejoice in the acceptance of falsities.

As each of them burnt the belongings of the impure, I could cheer with hollow passion.

But time ticked by, and (like the fires) my impulses raged and burned, claiming more ground by the second.

(And also like fires) those thoughts burnt my body, and seared my competence.

Eventually, every accusation that the air carried choked my throat, leaving me desperate for refuge.

And so my thoughts became my plight, forcing my back to buckle under the weight they bore.

Now you can observe that they hunted for my thoughts. They policed my desires and wishes.

They were my thought police,

And they are still hunting. 

32|Loving A Denier

Your lips are red like the blushing roses,

But every time mine touch yours those roses brandish their thorns.

Your eyes are deep and blue line the rolling waves that lap at the coast,

But every time I acknowledge them those waves leap from your eyes.

Your words are soft and delicate like panes of glass,

But every time I dare to gaze through them, those panes cut your wrists.

Your hair is a delicate path to your glistening eyes,

But every time I walk along it, that path halts abruptly, forcing me to face the harsh stone. 

31|Sweet Satan

My back is up against your wall as your lips clash against mine like water against the shore.

My eyes drift around your room and begin to acknowledge the Bible verses etched into the surface of your possessions and walls [they obscure the letters I wrote you, for they are tucked away like guilty secrets... I suppose they are.]

Each one is a new way they suppress who you are,

Each one is another reason to stay silent, to keep your head down.

Each one is another excuse to deny yourself the right to love.

Your hands scrape against my torso,

Plunging up and down my body,

As you dive into the saccharine satanic practices that you shun.

I think about the dreams of escape that you have conceived in this room,

I think about how every kiss you grant me is another way that you can taste the forbidden.

To you, I'm just a prop.

Your love for me is a way that you can live two juxtaposing lives [each one riddled with contrasting realities].

My body is tangible hope for you, that is why you grab it.

Hope rolls off my tongue,

It flows as freely as the insults your father preaches.

I guessed that I was your Sweet Satan.

I was so lost in thought that the sounds of sprinting and screaming were muted, turning to white noise like those Bible verses.

I was so lost in thought that didn't feel you slide away from me, and I didn't comprehend the profanities leaking from your lips.

I was so lost in thought that when the door was smashed open, my awareness only just came back.

30|Pains Me

It pains me to think of how the strength of your memory of me dilutes with each sneaky kiss she delivers.

It pains me to think of how the sky will burn blue whilst my fingers are not pressed against your thinner thighs.

It pains me to gouge out my eyes over each new obsession you create, with the knowledge of my blatant failure to expose every miniature thought of yours.

It pains me to see the muddy rainwater trickle carelessly down my picture, that no longer stands mounted on your beige wall.

It pains me to drone on about the torturous agony of acknowledging your dunce- like descisions.


But it pains me to see what I've done to you, not what you've done to me...

It pains me to watch your weight plummet as you run your fingers up your visible ribs.

It pains me to see your arm become the scketch book for your eerie scar- murals. 

It pains me to pretend that you'll be okay.

It pains me to see your life crumble with each kiss the tosses at your confused face...

29|Hand+ Echo

I outstretched my hands to grab at the saturated air.

I felt it slip through my clenched fingers and I stared into the calm abyss.

I felt the bitter taste of irony return with its omnipresent arrogance.

Why did I have to recall my memory of the picture you sent me.

Why did I have to feel like my skin encased flesh bore any non-coincidental resemblance to yours.

I'm so tired of grabbing at thinly woven links to the past and stressing them like they are thick ropes.

I'm so tired of feeling your hands in my own.

I'm so tired of whipping my body around to see only the husk that you left.

I'm so tired of feeling your impressions on my reality's...



Names that were called years ago echo in my mind as I slip my hands into yours for the sake of publicising a hungry fantasy.

People that treaded across my lacerated body still tread through my mind as I inhale calmly.

People that stung with pincers that remain relentless buzz in my skull, smashing against fragile bones, as I study your face with my "loving" gaze.

These lies, these actions, they will outlive the echos that encouraged them.

These delusions belong with you.

But now they captivate me.


Neon detail whips around the soft oak table that we sit at, (almost as eagerly as she divulged in your kiss),

I can almost feel how radiantly enchanted I felt that day,

As I sat in that seat (desperately impersonating an illusion of myself).

Now I can understand why you couldn't tell the truth sitting here,

For the lights sparkled around us and the people buzzed like bees, collecting honey from those they conversed with,

For your lies had murky glimpses of truth embedded deep in their very lining.

I wish my words could serrate your wrists just like those knives.

I wish my anguish could linger in your hollow eyes as long as her naked body does.

I wish my lips could whisper truths that could halt your frantic motions.

I wish my tears could form the river that would encase the two of you.


My skin stretches and races across my body,

It is smooth and it is pure and bursting with youth,

But— just like me, it is charred with premature experiences.

My skin is my shield,

It stops my blood from racing into the view of its angry critics,

It stops the feeling of exposure from ever daring to manifest itself,

It halts the sickening and stressed severity of nightmares from ever spilling into reality.

In a way, my phone is my skin.

I hold it close and I cling to it and I nurture it like a child,

When something malicious or brimming with malevolent intent graces its soft screen,

My heart thuds and lurches desperately,

Because my phone has one awful flaw that haunts us all with each hungry swipe,

My phone cannot shield embarrassment...

—It broadcasts and amplifies it gladly and unapologetically  (unaware of the pain it is causing)

When you prick my skin with your thorn-like words,

You pierce my shy flesh with an eager ambition {and you wound it}— but flesh grows back, and it conceals the agonising secrets that lie below a scab.

But your malicious words broadcasted through spontaneous swipes,

They sting and peirce and grow and hurt.

They hurt because they posses a cruel curse:

They hurt because they don't just linger; they are permanent. 


You'd had two beautiful promises that you polished and presented as if they were jewels,

And of course they were; I embraced them, just like the others.

For you promised that you'd never have the disgusting impulses that cause people to cheat on others.

My stupidity flourished like their flowers on your bed,

Because-- I didn't doubt it,

I didn't want to believe it...

If only the soft screens of technology didn't provoke such harsh and cold truths to crawl into the spotlight of my blurry eyes.

You told them you were their boytoy,

You told them you were theirs- you promised them things you couldn't give to me.

You objectified yourself with one simple word,

But at this point I have grown so twisted with sour regret that I find myself dwelling on the inaccuracy of your vocabulary...

Because you weren't a toy to them.

Because you weren't just something that they played with.

Because you employed those words with the intent of using them as puppets.

You twisted and contorted their bodies and their lives in order to satisfy your ever-growing craving for control.

You couldn't protest when I turned around and left,

So you built yourself a reality where it wasn't a possibility to be hurt like that, But they run when my whispers taint their perception of your guilty kisses. 

25|My 3am Shadow

I lie, the darkness tumbling overhead.

I lie, dense layers of sweat crawling about my body.

I lie, stealing glimpses at potential futures.

And then... my cruel burden (recollection) senselessly invades my fortress.

And then... my shadow grapples with my mind and swiftly replaces it.

And then... the invisible distaste lurking in your tone turns becomes blatant.

And then... ethical dilemmas seem more pungent and more urgent than ever before.

And then... Grief rushes to my head— prompting my juxtaposed morals to face judgement.

And then... Screams echo around callous hallways.

My 3am shadow...

24|Coveted Absence

Emotion has flooded me recently,

At first it was as welcome as a hot drink on a cold night,

It seemed like I was finally feeling.

But then,

It exposed me to myself,

It exposed me to my raw essence and forced me to question my declaration,


It tore through my flesh,

It cut through my compassion,

It tyrannically grabbed me and shook me until my words where forever hollow whispers.

Now I covet the serene silence that you keep in the church of your heart,

I long to just feel empty,



My eyes were glued shut as the sun lazily reclined into the horizon,

I was safe.

My head began to stir with each new second,

A tornado of possiblity was amassing.

My velvety abyss was thrust aside,

And you stood the way you always had,

Both of your arms hanging,

Buckling against the weight of your affliction.

You spoke your words,

Unaware of their intrinsic prophetic nature.

You stared at me,

With those confused brown eyes that were deeper than a well.

Her façade wasn't as ornately structured as his.

Her lips weren't as emphasised as his..

Her eyes were broken, his eyes were fixed.

Her soft hair wasn't as silky and comforting as his.

But, you were broken...

But, you were used...

But,you weren't practical...

You were broken.

And so am I. 


The words you churned out were sweet and fragrant like a flower dancing in the midsummer air.

The words they recited burned into my skin, imprinting the words of hate (that stung less when I pretended they were merely tangible jealousy).

The words I unleashed fell from my mouth like water from a floodgate, spilling out abrasively and with little care.

I dismiss them now, pretending that they were notions that do not dance around my head.


We write words and bathe them in praise,

Saturating them with adultation.

We carefully form words and sentences to become quotes, mantras, and anthems for those hanging on the other end of the emotion we convey.

A spiders-web of emotion, divided carefully.

But we fear the ultimate mantra,

We fear the ultimate emotion,


Pure nothing.


Human nature has trapped me and forced me to understand the inevitability of our greatest fears.

Human nature is an eternally cruel blade.

If we are forgotten,

Flamboyance is our protest.


Forgotten II

We were a duo of inseparable unity,

We were clinging to eachother with a prominent desire to assist ourselves through the trials of life,

We were many things- but we weren't petty.

This is my cry out into the darkness of regret,

I wish to plunge into your oblivious void and pluck you out,

I want to be able to confide once more,

With no penance paid to those demons that hover with sinister apprehension.

I miss you.

I don't want to be forgotten. 


Don't ask about the silver slashes,

Don't ask about the indulgent tears,

Don't ask about the secrets that splutter in the silence,

Don't ask about the feelings that serrate the edges of an otherwise perfect heart.

Don't ask about the truth,

Because then you won't have to face it...

But you can't evade the truth,

Because things that are true persue you,

And they swallow every distraction greedily— hungry for acknowledgment.

Turn an face the flame,

My dear.

I'll be lurking in the rubble.


85- Tears

Tears act as a wall sometimes,

Because others fear that the sad truths that they keep at bay will corrupt them once more if they dare tamper with the hurt.

But other times,

Tears are a portal,

For they provide a vast river, and as you float through it others will greet you and aid you,

Gleefully providing bliss in hell.


Your love was a sickly concoction that was tied up with a pretty bow,

The chance to steal your heart and finally indulge myself in romantic practices was just too tempting,

You gave it to me and spoke a reality far too potent:

|Never Drink Too Much And Never Think You Are Immortal To The Blade Of Rejection|

And with the ignorance my family had instilled in me,

I drunk it all.

The rush was a bitter and colourful.

The kisses were frantic and rushed.

The words were pure but patronising.

I was locked into a future carefully and precisely selected for me. It was all mine.

But the blade of rejection struck with lethal force.

Suddenly, everything was gone.

I still live and love (in the moment that destroyed me).

A life


In an hourglass

18|Fresh Sorrow

I'll collect my fresh sorrow,

Whilst you sow tears on her cheeks with each new kiss.

I'll collect my fresh sorrow,

Whilst you squander the luxuries that alcohol has afforded you.

I'll collect my fresh sorrow,

When you rush down the stairs with a perfect crop of flowers.

I'll collect my fresh sorrow,

When you kiss her and your gaze still falls on me.

I'll collect my fresh sorrow,

As I dip my toes in the scorching water.

I'll collect my fresh sorrow,

When tyrannical archetypes consume your once mellow persona.

I'll collect my fresh sorrow,

And feed it to our children. 


I feel like there is a barrier between you and I,

I feel like it dominates my life,

For everywhere I go, every place I occupy,

I must understand that others see me in a different, less flattering light.

They see me in the darkness that the mirrors of public opinion reflect,

For I am now just one of them,

Someone to avoid,

Someone to isolate.

I feel like I need to take control...

For once, the power should lie in my hands...

With a painted smile, I will hold a position that you have allocated to my group of deviants.

This temporary distraction from my ultimate goal shall not emphasised.

I shan't pretend that I have the strength to break the barrier now.

But by the time a new martyr is chosen, blood will be prevalent on all of your hands.

Bathe in it. 


We we were all drifting through an empty galaxy,

Waiting for stardust to seep through our pores and corrupt our delicate senses,

When your dark temptation leaked into the picture,

You were a black hole,

Sucking us in with your carefully selected words and your routinely rehearsed mannerisms,

You were clearly the worst thing that could ever happen to us...

But we are cursed with the blessing of what seems like eternal youth,

As you destroyed what we had perfectly preserved,

We ventured into you.

Delving deep.

Remorse and regret slapped me like asteroids when I was pulled out of your sweet oblivion,

You'd made me feel like I had an obligation,

And a duty to remain quiet.

There was nothing to leak anyway, for youth is an obsessive scandal of tedious exploitation.

As my rambling continues to sting you, I shall stop as my soul withers. 

15|What Have I Done?

My heart is scattered across the pavillion of consequence.

My kiss is still lingering vacantly in the mid-summer air.

My hope burns along with the picture of you on the raging flame.

My dwindling respect for you is kept in secret, harboured like the weapon it is.

-A weapon with such unbelievable destructive ability

And it was that weapon that prompted an explosion of pure confusion.

It started with a sly comment, one I should never have dared to produce,

And it escalated, sprawling across my face and causing my eyes to glaze over,

(it was just as well, as my exposed eyes would display mainipulative and blatant pain...)

Tears fell across my cheeks as familiar hands shook me.

Sick emphasis was required on the fact I was unstable....

I continued to provoke your wrath (one complete with flowers and misery)

I searched for a mantra in the electric silence, but only disembodied idols floated towards me. 

14|Parva Quod Vera

How can one paint shades of truth if the canvas one uses hisses back?

We talk of liberation as if it is only attained via reckless acts; but Liberation is really your mind, heart and soul in conjunction. 

If we view insanity as the arbitrary process of replicating the same action, whilst expecting a different result; why do we re-enforce the system that wounded our greatest minds? 

Why do I relate so much to the trees in a forest? Because I, like them, find peace in a chamber prone to annihilation

We shy away from rationality to pursue false beings believed to posses divinity, hoping they will turn back the clock. 

13|Why Call Them Ex's?

You see, the term "ex" implies a lack of something, the end/discontinuation of something. It implies something is...


Nothing about the breath that used to lie on my cheek is gone.

Because I still feel your tongue when I close my eyes,

Because I still feel your hot breath at sunrise.

Nothing about the smile that you paraded is gone,

Maybe it is meant to disappear because you no longer wear it in my company,

But the naivety of the term "ex" is the implication that your smile doesn't live inside of my conflicted head.

But in the same way,

Nothing about the glee that you made me feel is gone.

Because I do not need your guidance to achieve happiness.

Nothing about the confidence I felt is gone,

You may have nurtured me, and forged that convinent asset for me,

But your lack of love for me and my body has not become a hindrance.

For I still know what I'm worth:

I am worth your love,

I am worth my own love,

I am worth people's time. 

12|Didn't Let You

My breath was caught in my throat,

And my petty heart beat like a drum.

It wasn't how they'd said it would be,

It wasn't right.

I felt intimidated,

I felt like I was an accessory.

But I held my breath,

I silenced my emotions,

I turned down my soul,

And I waited to feel

Anything for me to romanticise...

Long after it happened,

Long after you made it happen,

I finally felt something.

I feel like I failed myself,

For never again will I be as vulnerable,

As submissive,

As diluted

As blank,

As you insisted that I had to be.

I can only wish that I hadn't let you,

I can only beg for you to steal my scars,

I can only beg for true love.

But-I can fight for my rights,

But-I can watch my scars with a tender love,

But- I can find true love for my soul. 


For a moment there,

I felt you brush my skin.

For a moment there,

I saw you paint my suicide,

Elegantly, stroke by stroke.

For a moment there,

I saw you stroke my past,

Caressing it and moulding it,

In the way you had promised.

For a moment there,

I saw your promise laid out,

I saw your existence squirm around that promise,

I saw your life stuck in suspense,

And I saw a painted smile.

For a moment there,

I saw a genuine smile,

Glowing like you'd just been plucked

—Fresh from my imagination,

Still missing me,

Just like you had promised that you would.

For a moment there,

I saw a link to authenticity,

I felt a breath of honesty,

I saw something fresh

I felt something raw,

I saw you when you couldn't fabricate,

And it made me feel confusion. 

10|Winter Heart

The soft breeze chilled me to the bone- It provoked an abrupt shiver,

But my heart was immune.

The intense pattering of rain submerged my body,

But my heart danced distantly, imagining abstract futures.

The pounding of my soft feet against rough concrete evidently caused me to shake,

But my soul was learning how to feel a different type of unsteady,

It thudded out of time with the cold weather, and in symphony with the sound of screams.

Soon screams were clouding my perception of the thick grey clouds.

Soon feeling was a threat,

Soon love was the enemy,

Soon consumption was the plague,

Soon I was falling fast

My brittle and icy winter heart shattered onto the ground.

9|Our Love

Your love was an eternal sea,

It rocked reassuringly,

Your love was guilty and sexualised,

Our secret was that we both hated it,

Your love was fictionalised,

But we never discussed that, did we?

Your love was deep and passionate,

Yet it was crammed with guilty violation,

Your love was supposed to be idyllic,

But it was far from that.

My love was confused,

Silenced by the voices that rule us,

My love was just too dangerous,

Because of the system,

Maybe it is finally time to discard my self-pity and wound myself...

(It is what I do best)

We all know I'm a dirty, taciturn human,

Moulded by those you idolise...


The ones at the starting line,

They have their heads in the clouds,

They are all too eager,

For they do not understand the way you hurt more than loneliness.

You see, loneliness is a lingering lack of any emotion, of any feeling,

Whereas the pain you inflict is a constant explosion of distaste and loathing.

It is excruciating.

And the way they compete to ultimately join me and lie with me, washed up, is disgusting.

Yet it is comparable to the arena of education, a constant competition, disgusted as an inquisitive, and loving industry. 

It intrigues me to a threatening extent, but I guess I should put down my pen and scramble back to my grey school.

Whilst I'm at it....I must wash away any thoughts that may distinguish myself. 

7|Change Me

The chair buzzed softly,

As if trying to mask its true malice

And murmurs spread like spies,

My fingers tapped against your silky smooth neck,

(Our vulgar love was the only sweet thing in that room)

I tried to escape to the world we had established,

The reality that we had forged,

But every attempt was blocked by my thudding heart,

—Why does my heart always get in the way?—

I was holding onto the vague inclination that this was but another of my twisted nightmares,

But this was too potent,

Too threatening,

Too organic,

To be part of my mind.

The door clicked open.

They called his name.

A flood of tears leaked from my porcelain-like eyelids,

And I wished my metaphor could become literal,

So I could crack in front of them

-My crumbling would be my own revolution,

A desperate attempt at wounding the organisation that I fed?

It was a tsunami of feeling,

And I let it overwhelm me,

Because pain was an escape

All I need is a way out.

He didn't look back,

Because the pain of a glance could be more lethal than the pills they made him take...

No—The rejection of innocent love is more dangerous than acid.

I was so confused, so young, so innocent.

The buzzing commenced...

It was going to be a long, brutal night.

I learnt that day that I am not one of you. 


"She sleeps beneath the surface, consorting with the serpents"


Bile rushed to my throat as the image slid into my view.

The vulgar nature of it was of immediate prominence

It wasn't the over-sexuality of it, no.

It was that you lied to me.

It was that you dared to go against your crowning declaration, like the beast that you really are.

It was that you, the one who held me close,

Held her in the same way...

My cheeks drained of colour,

As your dirty thoughts of her were recited to me, designed to test how far I could go.

—(Was that all this was... A test? Meaningless?)

I couldn't continue, my legs gave in.

Everything became blurred and abstracted.


You were once the golden one, enchanting me, luring me nearer.

You were the pinnacle of humanity.

—No, you were a LIE!

My lips scratched against the pristine sink as sick flooded from my torn lips and filled it.

—You can search through that sick for the love we had, and you might salvage a drop of my heart.

Now, I've caught you...

I've caught you, you are a serpent

Now, you consort with the serpents

Her tongue prowled across the soft skin of your neck, breathing heavily.

She was a wolf, engulfing her prey.

In a way... I was her prey, and you were simply an extension of her claw.

Only minutes prior, you had discussed the way my mannerisms didn't appease you...

(Guess what, I don't live to please you)

Your hand clutched her, holding her tightly.

Your eyes sparkled, but your smile was false.

Days prior, you'd confessed to me that the feeling of her skin correlated to pure impurity, the essence of vulgarity

Your eyes didn't face her's, like your eyes used to investigate mine.

No— your eyes were fixed on the camera.

That was because, you were looking coldly into my soul, tearing it apart like raw meat.

Your revenge was as sweet as your soul used to be.

Was it ever sweet?

Or just another lie...


But it gets worse:

These words are blunt knives in the dark.

You've robbed me of my only asset at the end of this cruel journey.

My quill writes in her blood.

My parchment is your skin.

Oh you love a good cliché don't you...

I'll give you one.

Play your favourite role this time, will you?

5|Rough Around The Edges

She strode in through the entrance,

Her face was the living embodiment of pure rebellion,

Her eyes glistened with hatred for the establishment of in which she was interlocked,

Her attire was adorned in a sloppy, careless way,

Whilst others assessed you, I feared you—

No, not the fear that you were too different from me,

But the fear that you and I would collide,

That your rough, careless attitude would become my addiction,

Just like it had done before.

I was left, brewing in my own fear of the future that could cut me open...

And so I succumbed to my arbitrary ruital and condemned myself to an eternity in your company.

It was an apt sentence.


You were my cure-My medicine

I invited you into my wounds- desperate for love to heal them.

You worked your subliminal magic and enchanted my soul in a beautiful explosion of feeling...of passion.

And when you healed me, you protected me.

We grew stronger together, we felt safe in eachother and we felt safe in our ability to thrive.

I allowed you to understand me—and it is my biggest regret.


What happens when a sweet remedy becomes a lethal virus, a dangerous poision?

•My original pain is now re-exploited, my insecurities are scrutinized—with little care to the soul that weeps.

•My beautiful lover is now a horrific ghoul, lurking like the beast he truly is.

•My pain is now replaced with a new strain of intense regret.

•My cyanosis' are overloaded with an intensely overwhelming abundance of every emotion, and it spreads like a drop of blood in a glass of icy water.


I had so many questions that they became guilty secrets.

I had so many questions that they flooded me, filling me up with some new type of fear...

I had so many questions that I could barely breathe,

Barely process what you had done to me.

I had so many doubts that my entire life felt threatened,

My entire life became something up in the air,

Like a simple coin.

I had so many questions that I allowed them to consume me-

I allowed the questions to own me- they were substitutes for you


In fact, in many ways you resembled those questions in your shaky, insecure persona.

All of those times that I had to answer your own questions,

Desperately attempting to reassure you that the lies you've been fed are accurate...

All of those times you've felt yourself hanging in the balance...

So when you finally sprung free, you were eager to channel that horrible, burdensome feeling into a curse.

Now I bare your burden.

Just like I bare her's. 

2|10 Weeks

You waited for the words I am about to spew.

You will see this, and maybe you'll be full of hate

Of dread,

Of unbelievably strong sadness,

Or maybe even a threatening dose of nostalgia.

Regardless, I felt robbed.

Regardless, I felt used.

Regardless, I felt discarded.

—Regardless, your soul and heart hold no ability other than superiority and lust.

You waited for this.

It hurts to imagine how you'll sit- blank.

It stings to mull over the reasons why you did this,

And it is as lethal as poision to recount each mistake I made.

I guess you preyed on my innocence, in a far more dangerous way than your prior inclination.

Part of me wants to scream.

Some of me begs for me to break.

Some of me urges for revenge.

Most of me stings.

I've felt so much pain that I have become a lone passenger in my sad story.

1|Far Too Young To Die

Far too young to die...

The air scraped his skin like a blade

He was smothered in an abyss-

That was contaminated with nothing.

He wanted a different type of numb.

He wanted an oblivion.

He couldn't justify it-

No one could, or would dare to.

A sleek black gown-

Covered in a deep purple substance

Strewn carelessly on tracks

Returned to an incomplete family.

He was decisive

He was determined

And the silence left him alone with his thoughts-

It could've never ended well...

He felt more alive in his suicide,

Than he'd ever felt before in his suffering,

The air tote across his face, and regret contaminated his mind

His salvation was here,

But it could never be,

He was betrayed by human nature.

Aren't we all?

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A Culmination of Realities
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