My Thoughts Are Pollution

Coming-of-age ramblings that don't mean much in the long run

Month: January, 2015


They say that god

hardened the heart of the pharaoh

And they say that the endless


can be explained

so simply

That the vastness

of the universe

is but a construct

of His hands

That the millions of years

the earth eroded into beauty

was planned

but when I see

the sky

I know that I am small

and I just can’t inflate myself

by believing that I have a purpose



I’m stuck again.

I don’t know how to make progress anymore. I’ve got a job, I’m doing things around the house, but I don’t remember where I’m supposed to go from here.

I  mean, there are things that I want to do, sure. I just don’t know how to get to the point where doing those things seems at all viable. As it stands now I have little to no energy for anything besides my job and the few things I do manage to get done on a day-to-day basis. When I’m finished with something, all I want to do is, well, nothing.

And so I do. I do so much fucking nothing that I can’t remember how to do anything else.

You know what I want to do? I want to perform a few of those songs that I’ve written. Like, in front of actual people, not just a shitty webcam that records a video that like, four people will ever watch. I want to be in a band again. I want to workshop some of these songs with other people; people who can foster the creativity I have and turn into something more important than it is. I want to write a book, or something! I want to write something more substantial than a whiney blog post; something more important than a poem no one will read. I want to live somewhere else. I want to live a life where maybe I’m not getting drunk all the time, but if I ever feel like having a drink or a cigarette, I can just sit down and do it without having to have a panic attack about it, without having it be some sort of direct message of hatred towards my parents. Which it never would be, but fuck, if I ever get caught doing anything like that, it’s somehow all about them. While me having a drink is actually a sign that I want to get out of my head for a little while, my parents see it as a sign that I want to kill my them and my siblings in their sleep, whilst worshipping the devil and cursing the god I don’t believe in while also having unprotected sex with multiple partners of ambiguous gender while cutting myself and drowning small children and kittens in the blood, laughing maniacally the entire time.

Maybe that was a slight exaggeration. Though I really am upset that every single decision I make while living here is directly about my relationship with my parents and can’t possibly have any other reasoning behind it.

But anyways, I’m just kind of stuck here in life right now. There are things I want to do, but I don’t really know how. Or maybe I do know how, and I just don’t have it in me to actually accomplish anything, ever. I don’t fucking know. Ugh.


A night


dotted with white


but covered in grey


some people believe

that’s a lot like me

a thing of beauty

covered by a thick veneer

but that’s not true

if these clouds

aren’t what I am

then I am a sky on fire

burning you alive.

A Short Story, Sort Of

Can the punk-rockers

even appreciate a beautiful song?

or is that all they are?

No future

but no depth to that concept

While I don’t believe in futures

but I’ll still have one

I believe in drugs

just like they did

but not so desperate

I think

if you reject the man

and people follow you

then you’re

the man, too


I’m staring at the sun

waiting for a rush

of fucking anything

and maybe when I’m done

they’ll reach out and touch

fucking anything

I’m living in a home

I wanna live alone

but I’m a failure

so I razorblade my wrists

just to prove I still exist

and I’m a failure

oh, it sure beats getting high!

if that sounded like a lie

that’s because it is.

When I was barely getting by

and I almost fucking died

at least I wanted to live.

I want to live

in a different world

made of pictures

and lights

and smoke wafting in curls

somewhere with art!

or an artist!

or something in between

with drugs!

and the drunkest

kids I’ve ever seen!

where the blood

that I lose

finds a purpose besides pain

where my drawings

in chalk

are erased by the rain

and that’s okay.

I want to taste

on the tip of my tongue

the taste I want

of a new drug

poison me

put it into my lungs

let it bleed

into my blood


I was made for something less than this

so push me down and plant your angel’s kiss

thrust out your tongue, force it past my lips

I was made for something less than this.


Drop your glass

on a kitchen tile

cut your hand

and crack a smile

and watch the wine

mix with your blood

maybe it’s

like that with us?


I was made for something less than this

so push me down and plant your angel’s kiss

upon my arm, and let the constant drip

I was made for something less than this.


And scream


waiting for the next one

it’s been far too long

and I am far from done.




Scream inside out.

I’ve Gone To Save The Day

A million miles away
I guess it’s not that far
when I can hear you say
words that break my heart
And I can sleep at night
but I don’t dream no more
and you turn on the lights
and open up the door
And you can walk outside
and I can feel so sad
and it can feel so right
how did it get so bad?
And now I guess I know
the million things I lack
so when you finally go
I guess I’ll wait til you get back.

A million miles away
I guess it’s not that far
when I can hear you say
and I can feel this scar
So I’m not going to stay
Too many things we lack
I’ve gone to save the day,
I’ll explain when I get back.

And I don’t ever want to
be together with you
because that sounds far too
much like what I want to do
And I don’t get what I want
so I can get what I need
it makes so much sense, I know
but it don’t make sense to me

so why do I
spend so much time
listening to this lulluby
of life
pass by
until I die?


I used to be

afraid of the dark

back then monsters crawled

out of my heart

but now I am

only afraid of darkness

the demons I have

the demon of heartlessness

I mean, I can imagine

a corpse

and it almost satisfies

but it’s still too frightening

I can hear voices through the walls

and they’re always screaming

and they’re always fighting

There are the footsteps

the sound of a knife

hitting the floor

. . .

And a door closes

and a door opens

is it mine?

is it mine this time?

and I tighten my grip

on my weapon, as if

I could fight this off

I never could before

. . .

And so it begins

I’m bleeding to death

in my head

in my head in my head

in circles

in circle in circles


this unpleasantness

or is it okay?

I might feel worse

were it to fade

And I open the door

And I stand at the doorway

I stand at the doorway

And I close the door

And I go back to bed.

Even Then

I want to
wake up yesterday
and try it all again
will it just end up the same?
I want to
wake up yesterday
and find out who I am
before I make all these mistakes

And I want to
wake up in your arms
Well, all that I actually want
is to forget all that you are
’cause all the things you’re actually not
kept me safe from harm

I feel you
right down to my veins
I had to cut them open
so that you could finally drain
so now you are
flowing from my arms (something a lot like pain)
it doesn’t matter if it ends
it only matters that it starts (something a lot like pain)

Why would I
ever love again
I don’t have any blood
I don’t have any friends
Why would I
ever try again
nothing ever starts
it only matters ’til it ends

and even then…

oh I know,
there’s no reason
to be breathin’

if there’s no
other person
there to breathe with

and even then…


There was something

so empty

so empty and clean

about it

about it and

about me

but I’m scared now


because I don’t like it

I have this barrier

this wall

these things preventing


from being


or is this barrier

this wall

part of who I am

I still have to be scared now

because I don’t like it

why would someone else

her skin so smooth

am I even


I’m scared

because I don’t like it

and you won’t

no matter what

you say to me

you won’t

it’s not that fucking simple

they’re more than that

more than scars

more than

than anything some days

and each morning

when water flows over me

her skin so smooth

am I even


There Goes Four Months

I cut myself yesterday. I cut myself after managing four months free of self-harm.

I don’t even know why I did it. The razor was there, and I felt like shit, and I wanted my arms to express how shitty I felt. So I cut them up. And when I started doing it, all of the rush that I used to get came back immediately. It came back stronger than when I finally got around to stopping four months ago.

I’ve been fucking down lately. I don’t think I want to get into too much detail as to why at the moment, as the only tangible reasons I can conjure right now all seem pretty weak.

Anyways. I guess I have to start that climb to four months (and higher, hopefully) from scratch.

Hah! Scratch. Get it? Self-harm pun. Haha… ha.

I kill me.

Suicide joke!