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Happy repentence

After the sum of attack and deceive, truth is a happy repentence indeed.
For better or worse, I’m soaring with unsympathetic honesty.
Why it doesn’t half have me blush to my core, even bores me sometimes to deliver my mind.
Just how cliche can the conscience deign to be.
But oh how the truth sets me free.

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Uncategorized

Young night

It’s useless and ineffectual attempting to prise out, head on, every dreg or remnant of bad deed lodged deep in you. Your own actions leaving bitter stains in your core, that’s to be expected. Nor is it unvain to pretend to let it sleep or, worse yet, render it dead. How can something within you be put out when you, the agent, the wrongdoing agent, is well and truly alive to nurture it in the small, silent hours? Don’t be that inapt person to think your hands are spotless. That is not to say do away with yourself in order to murder a monstrous thought or memory.

It exists. Remorse exists and it’s not pretty and neither are you as it creeps in digustingly like some fever but an icey one when the mind quiets. But not in peace. In restiveness. You’re rocking quite frantically now and sleep won’t save you, not by a long shot. You have to ride it through, it will be good for you. An unsolicited friend of a foe come bearing sharp reminders that you are far from perfect, even if only you need to know it. So in turn you cannot and do not expect perfection from the universe. This will make everything more beautiful to the eye, this notion of consummate imperfections is going to make tomorrow brighter and the days that proceed. You will be tired but we don’t want you wired.

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Poetic

Maid of Marling

Just as Laura Marling did say
A friend is a friend forever
And a good one will never leave, never.

I don’t think you’d know if you’ve ever been south
But you grew unnerved somewhere down the grind
Of keeping face, nay just keeping faith.
Wholeheartedly feigning the best of our crimes.

Pray disparage the moments, sully them please!
But do so with all the conviction you please.
Begin a most violent uprooting of all the boldness that we planted in jest
Watered and nurtured in good light and good health
And reprocess this now to boldly go
Away from me and towards brighter days
You deserve every kindness when set in your ways.

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Poetic

Murk of the mind

I must break the flimsy yet non-shatter ice
Great sheet of it, between me and my mind.

Nothing works in harmony right now for me and I.
The chipped blue sheath conceals a multitude of lewd.
Of false desire, dirty desperation.
Throat red raw from swallowing back every truth that wants uttering
Brain so sore from trying to reason with every voice around me
Friend or foe. Invisible or no. Now you’re all inside me.
Having a party while I’m trying to sleep.
Perforating my lungs while I’m trying to breathe.
Cut out my fucking tongue, I don’t wish to speak.

Stomping on and piercing at
This sheet I finally impale.
I wish I could say it is nice to meet the murk
That lurks. That is my mind.
So I’m drowning for days, maybe months, even years.
Forget I cannot swim but at least I break the ice
Every few days, months or years.

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Uncategorized

Selflessly Selfish

Anxiety and more so, depression, renders one selfish. This much is true. So both the realisation of that and the weighty notion of continuing to belittle everyone and everything around me indefinitely was, is and may be in times to come, my predominant cure for the great inexplicable. The big A and D. Those demons uncalled for, holding my mind hostage. I cannot do this to my loved ones and shun my oblivion whilst doing it. Inflicting pain and incurring the same. The paradox of course: how can one establish their selfishness until they are finally, selflessly out of their mind?

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Poetic

Colour me true

Where once I bloomed
I now pale in solitude
Broody thoughts, no end
Mind is a blood whirlpool, red raw
Ravenous slurping of my existence, a mere shadow now
Colour me in
Colour my sins
A dreadful dark blue
That I can know them to be wicked

Paint black my world
with charcoal
From the weighty lump that burns in my chest
That I can choke on my slander

But paint me happy
When I’m with you
Golden brown like the autumn leaves
Scattering our path
Where we took our first steps to brighter days

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