razerisereclaim - Tumblr blog

[razerisereclaim]

At least she’s following my advice and walking away. Just sucks to be right about not being worth enough to care about. She still doesn’t give a fuck, ironically, going out there with fuckboys just to get off. I’m not worth the thought...And I can’t get these thoughts off my mind. Again and again. I wish I could have no heart. How I feel inside.

You “living your best life” couldn’t have involved me? In any capacity. Empty empty empty. How similar we are.

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Making it Easy...for Dummies:

“I’m sorry” (but I won’t change my behavior!).

“I understand” (but I’m not wrong and everyone should know!).

“I care” (but I don’t want to put in effort to show it, it’s exhausting).

“I’ll show you I’m interested” (but I won’t truly give you a minute of my time, even after making plans)

“I need to hear it directly” (but I’m not going to pay attention or try when you tell me what you need).

“I’ll definitely text you when I’m free” (but you’re not around and I forgot you until you texted me [mad about missing the message of feeling fuckin’ forgotten]).

“I’m a friend” (but let’s stop talking, like, altogether...even though I know what it will do).

Fake through and through (but I’ll stick around to see how real your pain really is).

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Hate Love Hate Relationships (Original Poem)

It is always a love hate thing with me.

They love my mask.

They hate that I’m not open and revealing about myself.

They love my smile.

They hate the depression that hides beneath.

They love my work ethic.

They hate to actually step in before I work until I’m broken.

They love to tell me how great I am.

They hate to actually take a chance on me.

They love to tell me I’m worth so much more.

They hate to actually put in the work to prove it.

They love to give me compliments.

They hate that I can’t accept them.

They love me until I’m out of sight.

They hate to actually try to show they care.

I love all those who reach out but most of the time it feels so forced and faked.

I hate that I’m still waiting to be shown what they always say I’m worth.

Prove it.

I love the way they will put me in this hole...

I hate how they walk away from my cries for help.

I love almost everything about truly being loved.

I hate love hate relationships.

Please, someone, show me you love me.

Save me from hating feeling “loved” forever.

Follow through for once.

It’s easy...I love when someone tries

Don’t hate me for having needs.

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It’s Simple so you understand

No need for prose or poetry. This is not freeform anything...No need to talk about it. I’m so tired of games. I’m just done. Why even put in the effort to know me only to not give a fuck about how you treat me. I said I was fragile and I meant it. I’m keeping this as simple as I can because you didn’t listen. It was never about you. You just represent everything I hate with every fiber of my being. I can’t stand feeling like this and you’ve put me back in this hole for no reason. Just one day, you changed your mind but didn’t bother to fill me in. Let me keep asking you out...and you’d accept. And I’d get two snacks and two drinks and be waiting only for you to forget about me. I was always the casualty of your choice. Lonely hopes up in smoke. You’re flaky as fuck.

Even if there was no romantic interest at all and it was strictly friendship...you let me down. If ever there was a spark, taking me out on our birthday weekend only to give your number to another guy at the bar wasn’t letting me down easy. You made me believe I could be insecure with you and kept making me feel like you actually cared. But you didn’t. And don’t.

Why would you stay late and talk with me night after night? Why would you ask me very blatant questions showing you were interested in me? Why would you keep saying yes to me only to bail so many times? Why give your number to other guys after buying me drinks? Come the fuck on now.

We both know the truth. It was disrespectful and when you now claim you feel like you did nothing wrong it makes me feel invalidated. And that all your I’m sorry and I understand texts were complete bullshit.

You will never get it. So I won’t write anymore. I won’t talk. I won’t show anyone my light because it’s almost out. There’s no need for prose or poetry. I’m just done. Can you understand now?

You’re like a nightmare I thought I woke from but I’m so tired and I keep falling back asleep only to be right back in it...because you came back to see what’s left of me. You quit. You quit on us and you quit on me. Why are you back? What do you want from me? What did you want from me?

Can’t it all just go away?

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A little less than a hundred poems. Some with deep metaphors. Alliteration. Wordplay. All with meaning. Most about loss. Few about hope. Some about dying...

And my “friend” couldn’t understand the meaning of ‘it’. Which one? When I talk of feeling deaf, dumb, limp, and lame? Like I’m shut off from the world. Like a ragdoll, a playtoy, an infatuation as fleeting as your smile, let alone your overall interest in knowing me?

Or was ‘it’ when I ask why I’m never the single and only the B-side, just once could I be THE guy? Wanted. Needed. Thought about in the back of your head like the lyrics you just can’t stop from playing. Yet it’s still your favorite song.

I know! It was when I wrote plotting away the day the pain will end until I slip away like dust in this wicked wind. ‘It’ was about feeling suicidal because I give and give to people. Try my best to do right by them (though I never feel like I’ve done enough). Get used and abused and shit out. Wiped away and flushed without a second thought though it always starts with love at first glance...Or am I getting one of ‘them’ confused with ‘it’?

‘It’ must have been the one I wrote about being a fucked up excuse for a table. How, like in every restaurant I’ve ever known, people slide sugar packets instead of taking a moment to fix it. That instead I’m constantly having pieces of me torn out and thrown in the fire to make someone warm while they secretly spend their precious time on this Earth with someone mildly more handsome. That in the end I’m left as charred shards that they can look back at and remember how well I treated them. I stayed as sturdy as I could for as long as I can but I can’t keep losing pieces of myself.

‘It’ is like the Stephen King novel and you’ve become written into my nightmares. Not because I’m sad we aren’t together. But because ‘it’ wasn’t worth the effort. And again, even after your apologies...I’m not even worth ‘it’ to try and understand a single word.

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Keep In Touch (Original Poem)

There’s a fine line between obsession and love, A line I seem to straddle but always misjudge, Is my heart skipping a beat or is it a lack thereof, Always on the edge but you gave me a little shove, I knew from the start, I’d pay for this courtship in pints of blood, But hey, no grudge, I’ll savor each cut until I’ve finally had enough, Until then I guess we’ll “keep in touch”, Except that would imply I still give a fuck, Good Riddance.

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Eating Out is an Art (Original Poem)

Like a multi-course meal, Prepared and served, I am consumed, Tickling your palette, Delighting your senses, Bringing pleasure, Chewed properly, Swallowed, Slowly descending, Acidic break down, Absorbing me, Used for fuel, Every nutrient taken, Remnants defecated, And summarily flushed, Everything wiped away, Thanks for coming, Ask for me again.

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You treat me like I’m worth less than worthless, I wasn’t enough but I don’t deserve this, Would’ve been your ally til the end, Now, we’re nothing; not even friends.

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Pay Me No Mind (Original Poem)

Often I imagine my cold, rigor mortis limbs, Silently slipping beyond my thoughts, Will tonight I reach my lonely end, Action is more powerful, Than my words with page and pen, Writing the tragedy that aches and breaks, My shattered soul within, Fuck this world and all it’s shit, This broken feeling never mends, Who the fuck needs existence, When pain is all it’s ever been, Too cowardly to actually follow through, For the sake of family and friends, So I’m left to plot and plan the day, I’ll slip away like dust in this wicked wind.

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I'm Shallow (Original Short Poem)

I wade in shallow waters, Keep my head above the surface, For in these depths, The sharks circle, waiting.

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Life or Death (Original Lyrics)[RoboJ on the beat]

1:12ish

Mind full of sorrow Set out to pace the square, Just me and my thoughts, Ain’t nobody else there, What am I doing, Why do I still exist, The more I think about it, The more my mind resists, Nothing to lose, Nothing to say, I just refuse, To live this way, There’s no guarantees, So place your bets, Roll the dice again, With every breath, Will I attain, All that I wanted, Or will I remain, Forever Haunted.

2:06ish (Scream style) Chorus:

Break the curse, Curse it all, I’m on the ledge, Now watch me fall Forever Haunted x2

Daily depression, Six feet deep, A light extinguished, Eternal sleep, Shattered inside, Bag of broken glass, I’d trade my soul, To bring her back, Leaning forward, With one foot floating, Flying without wings, See more soaring, Hitting the pavement, Equal exchange, Give it all up, To bring her back again, Just a little girl, The age of nine, In a perfect life, I gave her mine.

Chorus repeats

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Where's My Money, Bitch? (Original Poem)

This pen I hold smolders violently, The slightest wind igniting thoughts to paper, But honestly - how pretentious is that? Like words on a page have any effect, I’m no Plato, My methods far from Socratic, And only through this lens, Is my life poetic, Who the fuck cares? They’ll call it middle-upper class plight, And ethically I tend to concur, So many have it worse than I, I think I can, I think I can, Suck it up pathetic little white boy, You’ll get by.

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Keep In Touch (Original Poem)

There’s a fine line between obsession and love, A line I seem to straddle but always misjudge, Is my heart skipping a beat or is it a lack thereof, Always on the edge but you gave me a little shove, I knew from the start, I’d pay for this courtship in pints of blood, But hey, no grudge, I’ll savor each cut until I’ve finally had enough, Until then I guess we’ll “keep in touch”, Except that would imply I still give a fuck, Good Riddance.

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Periodically a Table: Chemically Unbalanced (Original Poem)

I am not like other tables, They being built on a solid four legs, Sharp corners but sleek, Minor aesthetic issues over time, I was hastily constructed, In high school shop class, Uneven legs, Coarse non-laminated exterior, Rounded edges splintering from being used, Not exactly level, But damn it, I’m a table too!

Love like sugar packets, Prop me up so all is right, No one wants to put in the work to help, Sand off these splinters, To give a clear coat, Some sealant, A new set of legs, I could be perfectly utilized, Instead, looked at fondly, As an inherently flawed attempt, To simply deal with, Until they ask, To sit elsewhere,

I’m still just Jesse, Built to serve, A sugar packet world, That has given up on me, Tearing my wooden pieces off, To light the fireplace, Kindred kindling, Providing light and warmth, While they dine on another, In blissful silence,

With my smoke to the sky, Ash and ember left to die, Swept and thrown out, With the rubbish, To this world, I belong in the dump, With fond memories, Of how useful, These charred shards were.

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Martyr, Dumb (Original Poem)

There’s plenty of fish in the sea, Unless you’ve got an oily black soul like me, Separate yourself and contain the damage, “Love at first sight” begins the slow expansion, Destruction of natural beauty, Disastrous to surrounding life, Soiling the good and impossible to stop the spread, Opposites attract until it’s too late, Am I even capable of love? Cerebral dissection and emotional lobotomy from minute one, Can I ever escape my logical brain? Heart taking the wheel, Igniting the power of passion, In lieu of counterfeit lust, Will I ever feel like I am, or have gotten, enough? Or will I rot away mentally isolated, Each passing day, Each new “One and Only”, Drives another nail through flesh, My Self-Crucifixion, A solid Pillar of Hope for the Hopeless, Despite the obvious fact, The blind leading the blind, The cross to bear is solely mine, “I’ll be fine”, Until the day I decide to leave this world behind, Please, carry the torch to the finish line, I love you all, Good night.

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Read Between The Lies (Original Poem)

In this house I hide, With a pain that cannot be described, Identifying what I feel inside, Depression that cannot be quantified, Another piece of me died tonight, I can’t take this all in stride, Putting my heart through this coaster ride, When heart and brain collide, “Love Eternal” has been shown again a lie, The idea now resides in the Great Divide, Never the single, always the B-side, Just once could I be THE guy? I cannot find my would-be bride, So in these lines I will confide, If you’re out there and ever arrive, Simply love me until the end of time, Without love, I cannot nor will not survive.

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The Boy Who Cried Wolf (Original Poem)

These thoughts hemorrhage inside my head again, They bleed out of my hands in shitty, angst-filled poems of woe, Leak from my eyes as I stare at the night’s sky, It’s going to be another one of THOSE nights. Insecurity isn’t sexy, nor vulnerability in a man, Why is it that I am so easily forgotten? This is NOT a cry for help, I swear. Anxiety and panic attacks are a daily ritual by now, The romantic ideal of love is drowning, As these self-deprecating thoughts pool around my insides, This internal scar tissue may never heal, And I can’t help but spiral further down this dark, beaten path, Further into the predatory depths of my depression, Even the fact I fight this every day, Amplifies the sense of pain and hopelessness, This is NOT a cry for help, I swear. Don’t cry for me, Argentina. They say we’re only given the load of adversity we can handle, But this beast of burden is broken now, Maybe it’s time to go the way of Old Yeller… Someone come put me down! But remember, This is NOT a cry for help, I swear.