Waves.

Every time I spitefully breathe in smoke,
I breathe you in.
Several times a day (too many times), I slowly die from purely physical reasons
and you.

I miss you so much, words fail me.
This shocks me; I talk a lot, but now I spew out empty words if you're not nearby, within earshot.

I can't deal with the distance and I need to hold you.
I sincerely and overwhelmingly (suddenly) long for your apple-white skin and the way it reminds me of my own destruction.

Your lips are still the best I've kissed.

Emotional masochism envelopes me in its warm, stinging grip and I now know that that is where my safety lies;
within you.
My center;
within you.

I may be able to take a step back for now, but it'll be you -
over and over and over again.

As hopeless and useless as it is,
it's always going to be you.
Your smile, your laugh, your heart;
the way you love me.
You will eternally stab at voodoo dolls in my chest.

I love you.

Sore ribs.

WWII of registered waking up and the opposite rises in magnitude,
but I don't want to wake up to how this feels.

With half a heart, I hang on;
With the other half, I attempt escape
because I don't want to be here again.

I may be more than obvious to some, but you can't see a thing.
I hide behind walls and keep up a facade.
I feel filthy, diseased and traitorous
for doing this (in my mind) to some.

It's gonna hurt, and I'm sorry.

Realize.

Martyrdom pains some;
They blame themselves for everything that goes wrong.
It's nobody's fault, in reality;
We all fuck up sometimes.

Collective fucking up is what's wrong.
All the Al Gores of the world try to Dr. Phil us
and all we want to do is OJ Simpson them
and Lorena Bobbit organized religion,
after which we'd Kurt Cobain ourselves (the entire world)
and enjoy it.

Fucking hypocrites is what we all are;
every single one.

"Didn't want to know".

Sleep might save my psyche now
as confusion tears through my mind and resonates in my insides.
Emotions suddenly skyrocket and my mind is a thunderstorm;

The eye of the storm beholds your eyes.

I see things I can never be close to, too many obstacles blind me and terminate the way (the only way).
My back is warmed sometimes by thoughts of you, sometimes by wool.
The doors of perception open wide after what feels like an eternity of repression and I can't take everything in yet.

I'm flailing and have no idea where to go or who to run to.
I'm famished and have no clue whether to make myself sane again or not.

Utterly spent in every sense of the word and the sum of every color carves routes through my brainwaves as it slithers around.

On my way home.

Acceptance is subjective, apparently,
and shock + recoil the best reaction.

Stinging words whip at me and I find I cannot back away.
The pain (sting, slash) keeps me alive and sane,
for what seems too good to be true
probably is.

Cynicism repeatedly rears its malicious head,
these days.
And I long for the warm, wild comfort of the sun again.

Asdasd.

Tell me what you want,
what you mean.
Probably not much, but I'm way too far below and I was civil.
But I feed off of you,
and need you near me.

Make me mad and cause me suffering,
I missed this feeling.
Honestly, my body begs for you,
and it's taking everything in my power to not voice it.
This agonizing need for you is starting to scratch its way outwards
into the open space, where you could see it too.

I don't want that; I'm not available to you.
You blew me off once, blow me.
If only I could be cruel, but I'm floating between the perimeters, not feeling much.
I'm not sure of anything and I don't like this anymore.

You could probably make my emotional centerpoint fly to either perimeter easily.
Fucking do it, stop torturing me.

Asdasd.

I struggle to feel something.
I struggle to not feel numb.
I struggle to not be disappointed.
It consumes me without regard for my emotions - ironic.

Eh, prophesy saw this coming and it brings one down.
It's a shame I never did see it.

Confidence is difficult to manage and it can tip easily
into someone's direction,
making it impossible to control,
and that's why I am where I am.

Frustration is also a lovely feeling.
Make me feel.

Unapologetically.

Respiratory problems enveloped me and I feel even an inhaler wouldn’t help now.
One of those couldn’t hurt, though.
Fuck, claustrophobia nestles in with my other fears and paranoias;
My body burns and twinges occasionally.
My center is long gone as I reach out, trying to grasp it.
My center might be with someone else.
My center might not even exist.

A feeling similar to a gag reflex takes over my entire carcass each time I attempt to cough, but end up not breathing for several seconds.
This is purgatory.

I finally feel emotions I should’ve felt gods-know-how-long-ago.
Visual bending as seeing around corners becomes possible again.

Entities pick at strings inside me; we’re mere tools for the use of endless minds.
Flesh and blood combined don’t mean shit.

The world can rush when eyes are closed; I’m short of breath.
Feelings are felt as if through another being, like they’re not mine to feel.
Immense longing to walk and walk and walk and never stop takes control;
Letting go has always been difficult.

The napalm inside me is building up again.
It’s a fucking brutal war inside and I find myself, see myself, passed out on my floor as the elongation-addition-stretch of me walks out the door and lights a cigarette.

Find a happy place, find a happy place - stop writhing for nothing, pathetic piece of shit.

I’m nearly found, but the radar’s beeping precariously as something nears.

Superbia, avaritia, luxuria, invidia, gula, ira, acedia.

Green is a color of several meanings; disease, jealousy, a state of elevation, nurturing.
In rare cases, all four can be found residing in a single being.

Jealousy being relatively abstract, it has degrees of severity.
Nurturing is fairly simple and often indirect or accidental.
A state of elevation is easy to reach with money on you + the right connections.

Now, disease.
Disease is compelling and multidimensional.
Disease can be concretely defined, but I prefer to stick with a looser definition.
Susceptibility to some types of disease may be inherited or developed;
This varies a great amount considering the individual in question.
A crippling illness of the mind is far worse than
degeneration
of
the
carcass.

The carcass can usually be substantially fixed.
The psyche is too complex to repair easily.
Sometimes we must go through Hell to get to Heaven;
The same applies for "negative" afflictions of the mind.
They can elevate you and make you something utterly beautiful,
Or they can break you past the point of no return.

It's all up to you, all of it.
It's
all
in
your
head.

Cardiac arrest.

I wish I knew what to compare you to, just so I could form an estimate of how I should feel.
I never dig my way out of trenches of love evaporated at this speed;
What went differently?
I'll liken you to someplace I've not yet visited, but intuitively I know I want to and maybe in another life, I'll end up doing.

A would-be nymphomaniac outcast to myself is what I'll remain as.
Born on speed and unable to control emotion.
Sensitive bastard, indecisive bitch.
I am without manners; crude, rude and obscene.
I'll never be dishonest about who I am.

ps. I twitch like hell and have a moody pulse.

Insomnia.

As riffs from guitars, both acoustic and electric, echo in my head, I am reminded of you through direct and indirect associations.
The words randomly chosen from purposeful songs ring through me and the low frequencies reverberate through my spine, causing forced movements.

Independence towers near me, calling me to climb up and look around through new eyes.
In a trance I ascend neverending stairs as I realize the destination, however desirable, makes no difference compared to the journey itself, which can be molded and can branch in several directions and states of consciousness simultaneously.

Some may mistake these remarkable vibrations for insanity in the broad sense of the word or schizophrenia, causing negative splitting of ions, angles of consciousness and the soul.
This splitting, circling and evolving can be absorbed and used to free aspects of your psyche from confinement; to unlock cages and release new dimensions of self-awareness or death of oneself internally.

Once you relinquish even the slightest attempt at control over these autonomous actions, you might find that the external world in its whole spectrum of material starts to lose its seductive shine slowly as your mind takes over and cage doors begin to fly open, independent of conscious control.

Beginning of a journey.

As I sat in the cold, I didn't half-expect or even strongly hope to see you.
It puzzled me; usually I'd long for it.

A moment of clarity in the midst of various states of intoxication that took all doubt away suddenly washed over me.
I discovered I'm mirroring myself in you and living off my vices.

They keep me sane, (the border's alarmingly close, though)
I lie to myself and become diseased, oozing false truths, assumptions and wrong encouragements.

The flashback-like feeling that rushes through me, making my neck tingle and skin tinge with a reddish glow when you snap at me or ignore me is approaching too much in my head and I'm approaching the state I was in a year ago.

A salvia trip: a short-lived, intense sensation that feels like an eternity. Familiarity is painful; I can relate to that drug and the tripping without ever having experienced it concretely. Just through you.

I'd love to ascend from the memory of this, But I fear I might be down here a while.
Thankfully I can nearly say I'm allright, but the words are still too mumbled to decipher in my head. Not just yet.

Optophobia's setting in again, good night for some time.
People, places, feelings, habits, situations become strong addictions in an instant.
I can't keep up yet; listen to me.
I'm in detox and my rehab consists of solitude, people, coffee, cigarettes and clarity.

The Devil and His.

Grey matter; bang and the strike is gone again, a dull ache remains.

You might feel better than you thought.

Fiery winds tunnel in my insides, look.

(At least I went down singing.)

Phoenix, fiery winds, reincarnation, rebirth, flight.

Napalmnapalmnapalmnapalmnapalm in my bed.

It's not so bad; I'm still very much alive and breathing.
Appreciation flows as the topmost emotion.

Thank you, again, infinitely, I care for you.

Tonight, tonight.

My veins crackle with it
It only makes sense flying
I might explode, catch the liver
Casserole
Soft psychedelia coursing in veins of those that can
If only, if only
The cat would not hiss (or mew)

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Mahdoton muistaa.

A formula to which few people have the solution; complicated calculations.
Gentle arithmetics, subtracting and algebra combine.

Out of the web.

Whirlpools of doubt; frustration churns through my insides and I feel nauseous.
The things I need to carry and see through weigh a lot and my back hurts already, without extra baggage.

The light awaits me in a few short days, a matter of hoursminutesseconds.
The dark side tempts me; I have a passionate love for it.

But we all need the light sometimes.

Bliss.

Moving on, moving forward, moving toward something beautiful.
My emotional, bloodstained rollercoaster has gone out of business,
And I smile.

On a new frontier, exploring, intrigued.
Thrilling chills up my spine; I feel like the sun,
And I smile.

Press my back against a wall, kiss my neck, whisper.
"You make me happy; you're beautiful".

And I'll smile.

Flashbacking (to almost a year ago).

I could say "Make me bleed," but
I'd rather you do it voluntarily.
Bruise me,
Scratch me,
Bite me.
I have to say nothing,
Slash me open inside
And I'm happy again,
All bled out.
I have no energy to resist,
So I smile.
I'll get you next time, I think,
As I rest my head on your chest.
I never knew the glory of pain,
For I am inglorious.

Abstraction.

We stand at the borders of different zones,
Barely touching.
These zones represent things that limit us;
Our physical beings.
If these zones were to be eradicated,
Nothing would be impossible.
The concrete, visible variations of our exoskeletons can only be called limits.
Once we peel off useless layers,
Excess layers of humanity, inhumanity, facades and farce,
We cease to be mere caricatures of ourselves.
Every one of us in our respective, limiting, volatile-to-touch zones.
Upon crossing a border, I may ignite,
But don't fear, love - It's only my outer shell burning.
After 10 000 days of the torturous fire, I'll scream into the deafening silence,
And be yours for all time.

Wired agents.

Parabolas are inclined to symmetry:
The basis for psychedelia.
There is balance in chaos; sick, twisted, perverted
But a balance nonetheless;
It is organized, lesser chaos.
Tipping the scales? Fatal, in theory.
In practice, a different matter, a constituent of sorts.
An agent of relentless chaos.

When this occurs, organized chaos is a distant fantasy,
But everything else feels like the best orgasm you've ever had,
Times a thousand and then some.
Wanton, dirty, secret and all-encompassing.
Dive into the uncontrollable and poisonous,

You'll find you love it in there.