Dissident Voices

Dissident voices

Battles you were born to lose

Don’t fight

Just give in

Static screams

Echoes electrify the monitors

The demons awaken 

In the black, your head

Lightning streaks all over

Tonight, you’re not

You fucking coward

Hands to your chest 

Or up in the air 

Hold on

You’re gone

You’re gone. 
This is the voice that’s always in my head, and today it’s clearly winning. I feel like it’s killing me inside. 


Darling / Dying


Why do you look

Like you’re dying?”


You took my breath away 

When I first saw you 

And when you walked out that door 

You never gave it back” 
A relatively short piece, this one. I guess this one’s about a friendship of mine, that burned with nothing but fiery love. Now, the flame’s faded, the light is gone, and only ashes remain. It’s been killing me inside. I miss you sweetie, but it’s time you move on. Don’t come walking in through that door. Don’t ever come back. 


Our vices 

Maybe poison

But to us

Our only savior

And catalyst

An emotional catalyst

To get the pain




Out our system


Only in

The fastest

Most painful

Most miserable

Most agonising

Most torturous

Way possible

But what 

A beautiful paradox


A hopeless irony


The only way 

To fight

This poison

Is to feed it 


And more


I’ve been reading Anthony Kiedis’ autobiography, Scar Tissue, recently. I guess the book inspired this piece, because pretty much half of what I’ve read thus far has been about his drug experiences. It’s really gotten me thinking even more, about how people use drugs to ease their pain, only to end up adding to the nightmare. But this doesn’t make them bad people. We’re all sick and tired of our inner battles, and we all need a refuge. Maybe drugs are simply the only muse they have.

On another note, to anyone who’s addicted and wants out, I just want to say you’re not alone in this fight. I don’t consume drugs, but I too face my own demons and I don’t know how to ease my pain. Whoever you are, I love you, and I’m with you. You’re gonna crawl your way out of the war, no doubt battered, torn, shredded, but you will win. Once again, 

I love you,

And I’m with you.


Ticket Stubs

I keep my ticket stubs

In my diary

They’re fading together


Smothered in scribbles

Meaningless in virtue

Incomprehensible in design

Irrelevant, somewhat


Dog-eared, four corners,

Maybe a thousand

Messy folds

Intact, but marked


The captions, diminished

Losing their trace

My memory fails

The moment is gone


My ticket stubs and diary

I carry them with me

We fade together.




Object Writing – Freezer

Won’t you turn around

Look at me now

I’m  freezing in here

Won’t you cover me

With your sanity

I’m losing my mind

You see me now

Scars abound

Fate profound

You hear me now

Silence I found

There’s no one around

I’m not an angel

In me there’s a devil

It freezes me over

Your eyes, I know her

Your dark,  it’s colder

With her, I’m freezing

I must be dreaming

For at once

We face the abyss

As we dance

Fear amiss

For what is life

Without the pain

We wished for sane

But all we got

Is a sorrow the same


Time: 6:15 minutes

My buddy introduced me to something called object writing today. He uses this to write lyrics, and I guess I’m giving this a shot too. Maybe I’ll turn this into a song – who knows?



Object Writing – Book

I’m your book now.
At a moment in time

I was a book waiting to be opened 
Your starry eyes, wandering for a journey

Your eager hands, stumbled onto my story
You made the book yours

You embraced it with warmth 

You made the story yours 

You filled it with life
But then you let go of the cover

Only holding on to the pages 

And when you left it hanging

You ripped your pages out
There were papercuts

Honestly stabs to my heart 

The pain, unbearable

My soul, scathed and scarred
You kept them with you 

They walked the streets with you 

They stayed in your hand 

They made their mark in the sand 
And when you came back

You brought these pages too 

As if, all this time

They were to be added anew
But the book knew

All along

The book itself, where the shreds lay

Were where the new pages belonged
You didn’t stop the bleeding

But you gave the book blood

A dying love, revived

No more, the agonising flood
You know this book 

It’s full of hell

But oh, the stories of heaven 

Too, it can tell
The book is yours to love 

Yours to shred

Yours to drown 

Yours to breathe 
This book is me. 

And I’m your book all over again. 

Object Writing (not exactly tbh) – Shy 

I’m loud on the outside

But on the inside

I’m shy 

I still lose my words

I still slur in my speech

When beauty’s in front of me

I no longer preach 

My sheepish self

Presents itself 

When I see a smile

So pretty

So genuine

So warm

I’m full of false bravado

When I’m forced into something new

But if I were to step into it with will

My tongue entangles anew

But trust me dear,

What you see

Isn’t what 

You should believe

For if you open

The box

With the key that is your heart

I will triumph my shadow

And pour out my heart


Object Writing – Cars 

I spend my dreams chasing cars 

Hoping you’re in one 

Finding your way back 


We started with a spark

We ignited a fire

Polar opposites burned 


I loved with my life

And now till my death 

I had never felt a love so strong


But my love remains strong

As you start to drive away 

I want you back 


You weaved my heart round with 

Precious smiles and haunting touches 

Cutthroat hearts and glistening eyes

I knew how

But you forgot that when

You drive away in your car

You pull the knife out

I know now

And we all know now

That withdrawing your weapon

Means the bleeding will begin

And will never stop

And now in my dreams

I still chase cars 

To find you in one


Not to stop the bleeding

Not to ease my sorrow

But to love you with my life

Once again


Object Writing – Lamp Post

I am my own lamp post

Standing through sunshine and rain

My light may be a bane

But it’s because of my pain


I weather the toughest storms

The rainy nights that illustrate my tears

My fears

I fade away with every pulse

Knowing my power supply won’t last


But maybe the reason why I still stand

Is the wars, the flaws, the fear

Not the pretty picture of glimmer

Of what I’m supposed to be


I will stand, sadly, through more

There will be harder downpours to hit the floor

And hell, there will be

In whatever form it manifests itself


I will forget what street I light

I will forget what I believe is right

My sight will be endless white

Through those rougher storms

Probably, at least


But I still am,

The figure that stands

In the midst of the madness

In the chaos at hand


Because life will change

And so will I

But till the day I die

I stand where I am

Battered and bruised

But I will always stand.