calm consumes me but i dislike the notion of being alone. the bitterness of isolation lingers in your mouth the way it did when you took your first meds as a toddler.

i am trying to **** the cynical, pessimistic voice that is constantly whispering in my ears chasing me into a prison of self isolation.
i am trying to ****** the sensitive side off me that is oh so easily offended by everything, anyone
i am trying.

my dreams are turning into lucid bouts of nightmares, in the summer rain i patiently wait for someone to pull me out of this oblivion.

grief, holding me from embracing the welcoming arms of happiness
ive learned that these bedroom walls, the floor that i crawl, had far too many times witnessed me collapsed and paralysed by my own sick mind.

all i want is nothing more, but for these voices in my head to go, leave me.
leave me in the comfort of deafning silence. i no longer wish to be sick.

i was never proud of the words that came out my mouth
these syllables that choose to pronounce are poison & every phrase reeks of foolishness
i either speak too much or speak none at all
& when i do, it seems that i'm pushing bullets into your eardrums.
i have witness far too many catastrophe caused by my boneless tongue.

this is an apology, forgive me

i asked for an inch of happiness to seed inside of me but all god gave to me was countless night of not sleeping, staring the walls seeking for remedy for my perpetual sorrow. i tried to surrender myself to the dark beneath my bed, perhaps the boogeyman could cheer me up but all i found was cobwebs, intricate as the many red strings strangling my beating heart which i am unable to untie. same goes to the radiohead tracks i religiously listen to every moment of my life, not even jonny greenwood could pull me out of the oblivion that i've cursed to dwell in. i am the embodiment of perfect misery, trapped in a state of impending doom, an hourglass that bound to shatter.

i need company but it seems that the only company that i'll ever have is solitude & loneliness
i need friends but my only friends are the ugly entities inside my head
i need everything & anything that could somehow complete the jigsaw puzzle that is my life but i have found none in between
my whole existance is bound to be warped in a blackhole, whenever i am trying my best to be on my best behaviour i am
.******
.pulled
.forced back into the impending doom of negativities that rooted inside of every fiber of my body
i am a void, an impasse.
you can't mend these wounds
don't even bother to try.

he reeks of cigarette fumes, with unwashed hair that crooked smile you always fancied
while i  smelled like burnt pages of confessions & misery written in the early hours of dawn my morose thoughts spilled into a journal which i choose to douse with gasoline & ignite in my mother's kitchen sink; my face barely cracking a smile because i was to busy trying to calm my nerves whenever im with you the concept of ****** expression escaped from the threshold of my mind
yet ironically i find that the only thing that i could express is hatred towards my own self, by breaking my skin in halves it was the closest thing that comforts me next to your presence

oh i could almost hear the  flutters of butterfly in your tummy as you watches every word coming out of his mouth, while mine is full of rusting razors cutting through my insides as i attempt to swallow the pain of being in love with your bestfriend's girlfriend

think of something bad, a tragedy perhaps
breath in
savour the clusterfuck of air particles that youve insufflate
let them linger in the different threshold of your lung
inhale till you cant feel no more, the brittle feel of your ribcage collapsing & sinking itself into your blooded flesh
tear droplets will be discarded by your eyes soon after
expect a slight pain throughout your whole body
feel free to scream, laugh or even go on a rampage during this process
for those who are well versed in the ancient art of crying, they may experience symptoms such as the urge to puke, disorientation & other health issues
remember practice good breathing rythm in order to avoid suffocation & death

feel free to improvise along the way to ensure maximum enjoyment in this activity
if done right, you'll find that crying is addictive in a theraupetic fashion.

i stared at my palms & wished that the cracks on it were depicting some kind of path towards another heaven
my lungs are anchored down by a thousand threads laced with pessimistic poisons
i want to convince myself that i am not an anomaly of the society
   nor a mistake made by god
but i am too tired of getting hugs that i do not deserve
am too guilty to be another precious child
the mask that i wore is beginning to  fade
& as i listen to the manic voices in my head singing their anthem
all i can do now is wish that my corpse decay soon as i am a mere phantom hiding beneath a wasted vessel of a teenage boy.

i have nothing
for i am lost in this downward spiral of a ****** up universe
alone but not really a loner
picking up the pieces of a broken stature trying to re enact my yesteryears of pure sonder
a sudden realisation that I am
(We are)
going fast approaching our own demise

what she misses the most about her teenage years was her midnight walk down the neighbourhood alone, not heading anyway in particular, shivering due to the bitter coldness. she roams & wander aimlessly, unbeknown to her dysfunctional family. she was an idle teen lonely a misfit a freak. she wasn't sneaking out to attend a rave or parties & it was unlikely that she would get invited either. gun sitting under her petticoat, just in case she needed to use it. the world was /& is a pretty ****** up place she didn't want to end up dead in a drain gang ***** by chavs either. other people would eye her suspiciously if anyone spotted her. she would ignore them, an idle teen she was. some even offered her money in return for ****** favours but she kindly turned them down, insisting that she was "not that kind of girl". sometimes she wonder if she really took off will her parents even care? she would sleep on playgrounds, lying awake staring at constellations plane talking to god, asking whether she should run away & leave everything behind. she longs to inhale the icy cold air that at 3.35 a.m that sets her heart on fire but at the same time triggers a logical part of her grey matter that she should head home. sometimes she wishes that she would ignore her brain signals & leave town

i've always have this mental image  of ancient poets
Homer, Shakespeare, Rumi
kneeling on the ground sacrificing young virgins drawing the bloods of their **** in vials.
writing prose poems ode & what not using haemoglobin as inks. sweet red liquid oozing from felt tip drawing letters & aksara on papyrus sheets, producing masterpieces in the form of poems that we worship.

staring at her face was the only remedy i needed to cure my sadness and deprived soul

no longer i yearn for other things
i have came attached
to an angel in disguise sent from the 7th paradise

letters i wrote to her
tattered but not torn those yesteryears of collecting photographs of her
she was my Monroe

bit by bit I detached the petals from its thorny stalk
she loves me she loves me not
is a question that i will never obtain a concrete answer

i walked away from her grave with a sense of reluctance
because i knew
under those 6ft of soil & dirt
she beckons me to join her
my Matilda
that day will come