I’m scared of staring into my own reflection cause deep down...

There will always be left over aggression from the pain I that caused in my hopeless adolescence

Revenge is just like chasing ghosts...

Live with it for too long in your heart and you’ll just end up becoming one of them

we all have issues
especially you and i
but mostly me

i have trust issues
and body issues
and love issues

and a multitude more
but you choose
to love me anyway

and i hope only
to be able
to return the favor

Let me rewind your mind
Back to a time
When everything was fine.
When you weren't inclined to think
About the choices you had made
Or had voices to replay
Because you were still a child.

Now fast forward some years later
When you're quiet
That's when you're hating.
All those demons are berating
Every door until they've caved in
Questioning any memory created
Any plans made they were too hasty
That major imprints to get ingrained
And every glimmer here was wasted
Because every single day since
Could've been a better one

I'm what I'd call quietly violent
When I close my eyes
I'm morbidly inspired
Not suicidal,
More...tragically insightful
I'd be lying if I said the thoughts not crossed my mind though...

Provocative cranium conversations
Don't make sense, get irritating
Off hand comments on every wavelength,
That find endless ways of blaming
Yourself for all the sane things
But unlike the shrew
You cannot tame it
And emotions get abrasive
Leaving you worn out and deflated,
By your very own persuasions.

I'm what I'd call quietly violent
When I keep my eyes closed
I'm morbidly inspired
Not suicidal,
More...tragically insightful
I'd be lying if I said the thoughts not crossed my mind though...

When chained to past imaginations
It puts a strain on your relations
Which coping with gets less instinctive
Cursed with fleeting flickered wishes
Giving pictures to each vision
And over time you can't restrain it
Until each detail's contemplated
For a moment
Then sedated.
But the voices still keep raining
Cryptic mental space invaders.
Welcome to adult life the playlist
"Psychologically Draining".

What's up with the fade?
Is there something wrong?
I wonder if you read my note,
I slipped it into the woods.

You painted to me,
And your art was full of red,
You counted the frustrations,
And afflicted your mind.

I wish I would hug you tighter,
To feel the beats of your heart,
I would know how much life was left,
Now, the silence scares me away.

sometimes
i expect people to be mind readers
because isolating myself inquires
friends to notice my absent features.

right?
well. not really.

is it too much to ask
if i am okay or even ALIVE?
sometimes people tend to hide behind
their shallow social media disguise

and i am sick of it.

morever,
i am sick of feeling redundant
unloved and absolutely angry about
experiencing an inner abundance.

that mental illness is giving me a hard time
because lacking of serotonin means
to struggle daily with a weird kind of paradigm

meaning that
despite people telling me that they do love and care,
i will never believe them because
from the very moment they share
that same feeling with someone else
i want to get a nom de guerre
and quickly travel to god knows where.

© fey (08/03/20)

No one’s perfect, but I feel worthless sometimes.
My crimes are not legal offenses but are enzymes
that define, divide, and decline my spine.
It’s cancer unbenign to see wine derived
from her water. But I would see it and still love her.
I would slaughter my inhibitions to be her lover;
to concur with her words, offer her what she prefers.
I would burr my feelings for others to spur my feelings for her.

For her, I would give her whatever she deserves. But how sad, how mad,
how bad is that? To make my heart clad
with false hopes and rash rushes isn’t a gladness.
It’s tempting sadness that accesses and addresses
my weaknesses. Weaknesses that slither and slide
like snakes in my eyes. So sweet are her dresses,
so seductive is her sight. She makes my mind
sad with sycophant sensations, and we turn to messes.