whisperingm00n

[whisperingm00n]

i learnt to focus on other things

things that were not the pain

the lost memories stolen by my brain

its my brain trying to protect me they said

protect me from things not even my own mother could ever protect me from

the way my friends have other friends

who also have other friends

who care about them and appreciate what they do

who make effort to spend time with them

wait on them, they’d stay together

the way it dripped down my throat

a liquid boost

an addiction

no day was good without it

stupid, cost too much

yet i couldnt stop

loosing interest in things i loved

taking a backseat

sitting on my bed

watching everything go by

while i wasnt making any effort the keep the car moving

just watching it all happen

waiting for it to stop

i want it to stop

i need it

yet im stuck, dead almost

watching everyone move forward around me

[whisperingm00n]

[whisperingm00n]

i’ve been bed rotting in a decidedly self destructive way lately

being and nothingness, jean-paul sartre // the metamorphosis, franz kafka // i am the architect of my own destruction, juansen dizon // albert camus // as consciousness is harnessed, susan sontag // ralph waldo emerson // allen ginsberg // tennesse williams // letters to felice, franz kafka // sylvia plath

[whisperingm00n]

i am filled with so much rage

and love

dont forget love

but the rage consumes me

starting from my core, and slowly clawing on my insides as it sinks its empty teeth into my soul

[whisperingm00n]

[whisperingm00n]

there’s something so ugly swarming behind my ribs. i’ve never been pretty enough for anyone

[whisperingm00n]

she rubbed her skin raw,

trying to wash the sin away,

always there, festering

oozing in her blood.

disturbed by her thoughts,

disgusted by her actions,

in repents of desperation

she would beg for forgiveness.

what an ugly thing,

to be petrified of your every

thought, feeling, deed or word,

to find solace in worship,

to appeal, submit, devote yourself

only in debilitating fear

of an eternity of damnation.

[whisperingm00n]

falling

they say time flies when you’re falling down

how does one describe time flying?

does time take you with it as it soars through the sky

or does it fly straight past you, leaving the moments to pass you by

sinking down to your lowest point

it feels you’re watching over someone else’s life

being there physically

but mentally you’re elsewhere

maybe it’s about falling in love

her dark red fingernails gripping your heart

and i suppose thats a good thing

i suppose i wouldn’t know

there’ll always be something wrong with me

maybe i’ll learn to accept it

or get used to it

i’ll just live in the moment for a little while

or at least try

[whisperingm00n]

love elizabeth s.

[whisperingm00n]

arson

[whisperingm00n]

lil poem i wrote (its shit)

one must feel quite exhausted

after trying to forge what surrounds them

one must feel quite exhausted

after fighting what’s attempting to drown them

one must feel quite morose

after evaluating their frame

one must feel quite morose

wondering why they don’t look the same

one must feel a slight inkling

as they begin to self slaughter

one must feel a slight inkling

after they don’t see themselves in the mirror

whereas with myself, i feel nothing

even though i may wail, cry and scream

with myself, i feel nothing

as the blade begins to gleam

[whisperingm00n]

“I’m doing badly, I’m doing well, whichever you prefer.”

— Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena  (via kafkaesque-world)

[whisperingm00n]

i stare and stare at that figure

one i dread to see

i stare and stare at that figure

my own worst enemy

[whisperingm00n]

i bleed, knowing that the earth will soak the blood from my wounds and the water will wash what remains away

all this suffering, has been seen before

[whisperingm00n]

who would tell my young starry-eyed self, that the hardest person to accept and love in your life would be herself?

[whisperingm00n]

Oscar Wilde

[whisperingm00n]

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

— Oscar Wilde.