Posts Tagged ‘hate’

I hear the whispers

Baby I hear them speaking the truth

To fall for you

I’ve heard your words fall from a thousand lips

From faces no longer clear

You can’t have me

Pay no mind to my consent

Pay me no mind

There is nothing good left between


Glacier passion devoid

If it makes you less sad

Consider me a broken thing

Beyond emotional recovery

Still fit to ride

Past investment

Holding fast and whittling away


When the light falls

And I become a still, solitary shadow

Don’t turn it into something it’s not

You took all I have

Frozen cunt

Disengaged gag reflex

The place where I feel home


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One Casualty

You, I, there is no feelings here

You are built on a construct of lies and invention

I, have no capacity for warmth

Once upon a time I was punished with some extremely bad prose

Rhyming out my failings at great length

I am sure you can improve on this auto-biographic nightmare of confusion

And twisted pride than you are subjecting me to.

After all, I didn’t pluck you out of the crowd for your looks

Or Prize winning personality

It may not have been for your breath-taking intellect

But yet… I hold out hope that you can do more than

Lament and attract flies

Throw and crush and maul

Am I the only place you can relieve your pain

I know your taste, I can’t supply this fix

You can buckle down this cunt and rip and envy

I met you, this mess I bring

You have an impossible dream that I will feel

Your slamming door being the moment of realisation

They leave the same way, unwitting, controlled

Don’t change, I have been here all these years

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The way that you stone cold

Stone cold knocked the breath

From my lungs

With a well placed word

And stepped over my wasting heart

Was that kind of cold

That I fucked you for in the first place

I got no excuse

For these thousand chattering moments

That are, consistent in their mocking

You scraped clean this void

Before blood, iron and you were erased.

Always been my own

A step closer

Closer to finding that sum total of zero

Why don’t you see, the words are small rejections

It is not me, it is you

It is not you, it is me

It is all just another sliver of disgust

30 minutes of mastering domination

With clammy desperation

You are just another dripping disappointment

In a line of disappointments which is perhaps

A little lengthy for good taste.

He scraped me clean, dry, brittle, dust and bone

You sit next to me, all keen curiosity

Me the figment in the gift shop window

I don’t want to be bought, picked up, polished

Placed on your pedestal, pretending

That this is not just loneliness and some

Bad memories spilling out over the sound waves

Each touch is poison in my blood

I miss him in the moments when this all starts

This memory turns to the falling

Cleans him till he leaves me lonely

Paper thin and rising

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Handshot Irony

You have taken up board in my thoughts

for the second time in this lifetime

You were a place to understand my loathing

Not to revisit

With not a fond memory

To take to your grave, sunnier climate than here

You came through the door whispering prose

low key, open to anything

distracting from the fear of destiny

Locate the kill and I will cure the rain

of it’s fleeting grace

I guess this is just an afterthought

You come for me

this is all just the same old shit

You come for me

More beautiful than me

One last tender lie

Somethings never die

This isolation took you first

trigger finger, liberal irony

Cut me into a part of you

The killer in me through you

repentent in regrets

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Some days I just barely stay in my skin, I want to take this inner dialogue and let it loose to fuck, bite, tear and breathe, this inner dialogue is so tight and raw to the touch, every paper that you read tells you to batten the hatches


Keep it all in mind, let it go with a sour stench of whiskey blows to the unexposed areas.


That sweat extortion thrown into the path

of believing that oestrogen

is permission


When all I really want is an interactive, aggressive, impactful fuck without flowers, to tear out the impotence and take it’s hardened edges to blunt against my madness.


The rustling eyebrow gaze of unremitting judgment lose in some primal, moistened moment over and discarded in favour of benign, diminished disdain


You are so fucking special, you matter, you’re matter to me, you see through these lies… Right? 


 I let you fuck because I cannot fuck you… You see that perfect soul… right?


All this talk, talk, talk and all I wish is that you would just drive this losing streak from me as opposed to the singing sweetness and honeysuckle dried out words that are supposed to provoke baseless, blank serenity.

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On Loathing

He would take me, finger gouged into my thighs with a strength and passion that belied the reality between us, with every thrust, his despair would push me that little bit further towards the peak, he hated me, his spite and the detestation was a turn on, because I hated him too, with a passion that belied my calm reaction to his presence in company, he was everything that disgusted me, a pure arrogance marred his vaguely good looking features, every sinew and muscle reacted with an internal bile if he passed me closely, his voice grated along my spine as I would listen to him waxing lyrical about whichever subject he considered himself self considered master of at the time of conversation. I found myself learning more, if only to spite him, I would interrupt his musings, batting him down in a circle of verbal sparring that eventually would take us from the ranks of enemy to nemesis to adversary in the bedroom.


The bedroom, that small dank room that smelled persistently of sweat and decay, with all pretence of moral fibre cut away and all sense of decency escaping us, I would bite down to taste the copper flood down my throat, his violent expulsions and curses causing that dampness to grow, a hunger that could never be sated, not even by the consensual rape that would seem to take place within that tiny space, even as he repulsed me, I would accept his violent, uncontrolled advance, his hands gripped tightly in my hair, caught by the roots, his hands around my throat, squeezing to that point where the world shifted, tears pricking at my eyes as he pushed inside of me, whispering his hatred into my ear, I would return the abhorrence, hips thrusting to meet him, crunching against his pelvis. There was no end to the humiliations we would visit on each other, I would belittle him in public, knowing the consequences of doing so would take place in that bare room, to him, I was submissive, his strength would overpower me, his bruises sang a song and a tale thoroughly over my skin, I would bend to him and it made him hate me more, he thought I was submissive, the reality being much more simple, he would beat me physically to his shape, and I worked him over with manipulation and mental games, he never got wise. We had each other where we wanted ourselves, spiralling down the depths of depravity with each coded insult and past slight.


A small voice somewhere, almost silent now, admonishing me for this free way of hating, this zeal that was leaking from places I had not yet discovered, I silenced the voice, watching without feeling as he exited the room without a backward glance, my heart is cold I think as I wash him off of me and forget within a moment that he exists. He died on a Tuesday, shot in the face by a thirteen year old boy with a toothy smile, sparkling eyes and a Russian handgun, it seemed appropriate, that he have a closed casket funeral, it made sense to me, I hated looking at his face anyway. I smiled at his funeral, not once did I forget, in all the sentiment and decried hypocrisy that he was the worst person I had ever met, that his soul was as black as mine but twice as perverted, I chose not to forget that I hated him, and I hope that he is in hell, tortured and alone, burning in purgatory. I’m sure one day I will see him there.

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