I’m Talking About Sins and Strives But You Honestly Don’t Have To Believe Me

A sin in a strive

Is like a pea in a pod

You just can’t have one

Without the other

And that’s a lie, but

I’m full of it either way.

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The Narratives Demand Your Dedication And You Need To Understand That

car seats are sorta comfortable sometimes

when the stereo can’t quite get as loud as you wish it could

hey there was a beautiful bass note right there

did you hear it?

man, i wish you could hear it

but isn’t that the point of my writing in the first place?

i want to paint a vision to you

i want to encapsulate a point in my life where and when i’m unsure of absolutely everything other than the fact that the things i so badly crave for always evade my fragile grasp

and this is also when i realise that ironically enough

as i try to illustrate exactly this

my own vision’s slipping away anyway

hey there was another pretty note right there

i would have attempted to describe the note to you

but please refer to the above

because i’ve already been painting a picture that’s dripping off its canvas faster than i can handle, layer by layer

and in case my subpar converging confusing convoluted communication couldn’t give it away

it’s the sights and sounds of me caving in

and i’ve gotta stick to the narratives i create, dear

help me out here, will ya?

Scarves I Am Scarves

I am…

Not alone

In possession of scarves

Wrapped in scarves as if they were ribbons

Astounded at how these ribbons hold their shape

Changing shape the way the ribbons emulate scarves in their pretty little snakes

A snake too in itself, wrapped in scarves as if they were ribbons as if they were snakes

Still wrapped in scarves

Not alone, but

Still empty, and

Still surprised the scarves are so beautiful despite their weight and claws on my neck

Distracted, but

Terrified of these scarves, and yet

Still amazed by how pretty they are

Technically-I’m-Not-Particularly-Metaphorically-Speaking-Open-Letter

This is all true.

And this is still all true.

I’ve been dealing with this irrational fear for essentially my whole life. I’m almost 21, and that means I’ve been grappling with this for quite a while. I hate you for what you’ve done to me.

I hate you for all the times you’ve dragged me down, for all the times you proved me wrong when I believed in myself, for all the times you made me feel like a completely moronic, useless maniac. We were supposed to be done with this battle a bloody long time ago, and still we trade scars, only that the scars you bear still pale in comparison to mine.

You have constantly been the petty thief, reaching for my back pocket but ultimately tripping me over. There have been times where I turned around and caught you red handed, but they still remain far and few between.

I’m not going to take your pain anymore. I’ve been a laughing stock, an embarrassment, all of my biggest nightmares in one, because of you.

And honestly? I’m not going to do this myself. This is up to my angels now. And I call upon them today, because today they showed me, more than ever, that they are about and gleaming. Today, they will seal my skin with a subtle coat of belief, and not let these pins horror me anymore.

I trust that you will take care of me when I most need it. I trust that you will lead me in trampling this four headed beast, this burden that’s wrecked and wrecked. Today I walk in stronger, and it will be because of all of you.

I owe you this one, and now it is yours. You have all my trust.

Has The Man Really Changed, At All?

So today I picked up a glance

I recognised its contours,

The way its faced was masked with a slightly toned, yet unkempt beard

To underscore the demon festered in

It was honestly terrifying

To look into its eyes

Well, his eyes

Was that very look I saw in the mirror this evening

I know that look

But it’s already been 3 years

How the hell is this still on me?

I thought that look was only for the history books

I don’t like his squinted eyes

I’ve burned the evidence but I can still feel his gaze locked in on me

He knows I’m guilty

The man has changed, you monster

He bloody hell better have

But somehow, his reflection hasn’t

You’re still it

Please Notice Me Please Me Notice Notice Please Me Please Please Please

So hold up.

It’s only 12pm, my day’s just begun, I’m still running errands

And it already feels like 2am?

It already feels like one of those nights

Where anchors are patiently tugging at my now surrendered insides

Often dragging through a little of the tissue as well

What’s the fuss this time?

Oh right, of course

This one’s my incessant need to please

To show the world and say

“Hey! I’m different! I’m one of you guys but I’m different!

I’m weird, I’m highly functionally erratic, and I find fondness in what’s usually considered abnormal

Therefore, I’m part of the club! C’mon, show me you know it! Your acknowledgement is all I need to function! Without this acknowledgement, my passion is entirely flawed and baseless in the first place! Please!”

As you see in the rather overwhelming squalor of the above exhibit A, this unheard declaration always becomes a whimpering plea, that fades into the 2am silence (or in this case the 12pm drone of activity and ceiling fans. Weird huh?)

Can you hear me fading away too?

C’mon, don’t let me slip!

Hear me out and feed my ego by showing me you know I exist!

I’m different so I’m like you guys!

I’m really one of you guys, I swear

I really am

C’mon

Look me in the eye and tell me you agree

C’mon

Look at me

I’m right here

Not past me

I’m right here

Not past me

Ah, fuck.