short one. wrote it sober, so i couldn't (didn't?) really expand on it.

either way, just bought a bottle for the first time since shit happened but i don't plan on going too crazy this time.

then again, do i plan half the shit i do? or am i just constantly fumbling my way up through life.

either way here's some shit about math.

enjoy.

You said I was the one

But that was only when you managed

To get some rest, and breathe, and

Keep yourself from going rabid

But must of the time you

Wore your claws out like a savage

So if we’re being honest I‘m the

.08 on average.

i'm bored and entirely too fucking tired to still be up, so here's a thing i wrote in a little burst like an hour ago. see also enikő, the considerably longer weird shit i wrote in a similar burst.

I. űrrepülés
having once been the dreamer of many things,
having once been an eternal creator,
having seen the birth of great star systems and galaxies
and life itself
only to be snuffed out
with ignominy
i feel compelled to explain why i too must
inevitably follow them

hurt
is a funny little word. it seems so easy to come
to a common agreement on what it means and yet,
if i told you it hurt
would you really understand that?

would you understand the feeling
of hopelessness,
the vast indignities of having to see
your every piece of art,
your life's work
snuffed out
like the stars?

II. űrlény
you can't play god
with the people in your life,
but that never stopped me from trying,
from creating those great star systems
that people care about.
from creating life where there is none.

and that never stopped me from failing,
and the stars becoming great cataclysms—
black holes destroying the life around them
without regard for its beauty.

you might say it is callous
to try to move the heavens and the earth
and to die when they don't arrange the right way,
but,
i would rather die than be that hurt person again
watching the stars go out one by one.

In the shadows

Like a ghost you hide

In the single most foreign

Corners of my mind

Therapy and pills still

Can’t subside the angelic choir

Of your pretty lies

Promises you made,

The bones I broke

You once took my breath

And now I choke

Jesus let me breathe

Is there hope for me?

.

Now I desire

The obscure

All that reminds

Of being yours

Your oils, poison

My waters, pure

Your love is cancer

There is no cure.

.

I watched my grandfather take his final breaths as he kissed my head and you held my hand. Not two months later you foresaw our end, and decided not to keep me, even as a friend.

And now you’re off, marriage in the plans. I pray your time falls like the sand and hits the bottom of every glass as fast as it can.

I have no home. I’m lost and cold. You promised me a home would grow. We got a dog, and had planned for more. Mouth of this world, a fish at shore you took my breath and killed me slow.

I’m suicidal, I have no hope. I’ve not a gun, don’t have a rope. The only reason I’ve not a note, I’d end it all, I’d end it all.

---

I just want to feel pretty.

Pretty loved and pretty free

But for now I keep to getting

Pretty drunk, it isn’t cheap

But I can afford it/‘s kinda sweet

Too bad you’re not round

To drink with me.

I’d fill the bottle

We’d watch the office

Instead I scar

Until I am solid

An ugly rock

A useless object

I’ll break my stones

And build a coffin

And die in your name

Die in your name.

tw: self-harm; suicide; lost love.

i hit my cigarette

like an abuser hits her wife

because i'm a fucking coward

to afraid to take his life

i've felt love before

i beg it through the strife

but i only find a heart

at the wrong side of a blunt and useless knife

.

and it's only mine

at least there's proof

that i can feel

when blood protrudes.

but that's not "work appropriate"

so i get tattoos

what a shame i can't get paid to die.

i got a job

i got on meds

i got a car

still wanting death.

still here at night

alone in my bed

still hear her voice

ring in my head

“why do you look like i abused you?”

.

i bought a bottle

i bought some cards

can’t kill my thoughts

my god it’s hard

just make it stop

“i don’t think i love you anymore.”

.

anxiety’s

taken over me

every interaction

i worry

did i act weird?

what do they think?

i guarantee

they laugh at me

can’t beat it all

can’t bear it all.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.
.

.

don’t want to live

don’t want to die

i fantasize

(that) it’ll be alright

she’ll cuddle close

and hold me night

and pet my head

and kill the fright

i can’t escape

don’t want to fight

god let me die

god let me die

Pretty.

Pretty good.

Pretty cool.

Pretty smart.

Pretty cute.

Pretty kind.

Pretty eyes.

Pretty warm.

Pretty witty.

Pretty artistic.

Pretty talented.

Pretty cultured.

Pretty traveled.

Pretty-faced.

Pretty loved.

But fuck me,

Life’s pretty hard.

In Feudal Japan
Kaze no Tsuyoi Nioi
Tea Party Ninja

Assassin of Joy
Bringer of His Mighty Wind
Most Fetid of Stench

For a Tidy Fee
Kaze no Tsuyoi Nioi
Would Disturb Your Foes

Piercing Defenses
Buddha Alone Knew His Tread
In and Out, Unseen

But Never Un-Smelt
Kaze no Tsuyoi Nioi
Bearing Bowels Most Foul

This isn’t what I want it to be. I’ve just had too many to care.

Most days I don’t need any to not care.

Yet I smile at them; servers and baristas.

Try hard, smile, look happy.

Maybe they’ll think you’re cute.

You arrogant shit.

“Sisyphus!

Arrogant twat,

How shall you pay

For the sins you’ve wrought?

I’ll hang your dreams

In delicate swathe

And leave you to work

Forever for naught.

.

Sisyphus!

You “god” among men

I’ll number your days

Count them by hand

While you work, serve

Slave to my end

Your bones will strain

And bend.

.

Sisyphus!

You represent

The whole that is wrong

With the common man

I’ll make you sweat,

And I’ll make you beg

(That) one day you’ll be free

Again!”

.

Dear Sisyphus,

I know your soul.

Your struggle is mine

And we share the goal

That work, work, will come

To an end

And we’ll live again

As free men.

.

Sisyphus,

I hear your cries –

Your yelps of pain

In the dead of night

When your muscles strain

And your mind ain’t right

My brother

Your pain is mine!

.

Gods above –!

Rescue me!

.

Sisyphus!

I’m you, incarnate.

I do my work and

Sing my songs in

Hope the gods will

Hear my plea

And one day

set me free.

.

I am he!

I aloud decree,

assuming Sisyphus’

identity.

I live his plight,

beg myself free

that I’ll find a

love for me.

.

SISYPHUS.

THIS IS YOUR WROUGHT.

YOUR MERIT THE PAIN,

THIS DAY YOU’VE SOUGHT.

YOU KNOW YOUR SINS

AND NOW YOU BEG

THAT YOU MAY FRESH BEGIN

.

THE GODS WILL REMEMBER

SINS IN DECEMBER;

DRAG YOUR SOUL DOWN

DEEP TO THE EMBER.

YOU AS THE KINDLE

YOU AND YOUR KINFOLK

FOREVER LIGHT OUR WAY.

.

SISYPHUS.

“IMMACULATE.”

WHAT A SHAME YOU’LL FIND

COME END YOUR FATE

WHEN THE TRUTH REVEALS

YOUR LOVE IS FAKE.

are you so thirsty

you would drink your own blood?

do you feel so dirty

that you bathe in wet mud?

are you so alone

that you make talk with yourself?

are you so afraid

that you, your own friends, repel?

.

would you clean your skin with acid

just to feel pure within your casket?

would you feed on rot and mold

in attempt to feed your soul?

are you so cold, your blankets worn,

you'd set your home ablaze for warmth?

do you so fear the words you'll hear

you'll drive metal spears into your ears?

.

are you so broken

and without any help

you would crack your own skull

and find some gold to smelt

in hopes you leave your corpse

a void kintsugi shell?

if not; then why, dear brain,

do you want to burn yourself

Apologies for the spam. This may be the last one today; worst-case there's only one more coming.

I see you, pretty home,

with your couch, your floor, and kitchen.

I see your sign there, hoping

that I might call and visit.

I want to tour your space

and dream of how I'd fill it.

What chair, what bed, what rug,

and if it could home a kitten.

.

I can see a career

that let's me furnish you to 9.

I faintly feel a hope

that one day you might be mine.

I teeter on a plan

that I could start, if energized

that would lead me to you

if I could try, and all went right.

.

A fireplace in cold,

you'd stay lit, always, in orange.

the warmest of colors

keeps my mind free of contortion.

Your firm, solid structure

Keeps me confident, supported.

What a beautiful dream;

I hope, one day, to afford it.

Is it self-inflating to label one's own work as graphic? (It is kinda graphic, clickbait title aside.)

This doesn't even really capture the right imagery I was trying to go for.

Might just have to re-write this idea into a completely different piece, I'm not sure. (mfw literally "felt creative idk might delete later")

The "ball" was supposed to really be a watermelon, because we've all seen that YouTube video where they explode a watermelon with rubber bands, but I didn't leave myself enough space to develop that transition from ball to melon properly. (Brand new sentence?)

Why am I even posting this if I feel its unfinished?

Who knows.

Anyway let's get to the thing here it is vvvvvvvvv

slip.

twist.

smack.

10 rubber bands on a ball

all hold each other taut

the inception of a toy

that will quick be left for naught

but brings a momentary joy - its only cause.

.

work.

stoa.

sweat.

hustle on, man, that's your call

you gotta love your boss.

it's the struggle of a boy.

that you never would be caught

while feeling tears or overwhelm - lest you be mocked.

.

smack.

stretch.

strain.

100 rubber bands slap

starting slightly straining

its appearances are coy,

the ball slowly rolls to stop.

picked up and bounced against the floor - it doesn't pop.

.

work.

stare.

grind.

expectations are my all.

you dream of taking off -

escape makes you overjoyed

daily grind just puts your off.

your brain it strains against the skull - stressing nonstop.

.

pop

waste

spill

500 rubber bands smack

crushing and constraining

such a carnage to enjoy

they start rolling out the mops.

the ball explodes onto the floor - as if a prop

.

rip

slice

tear.

my fists crash into the walls.

my skin, just rip it off

rip out the bone, leave me void

naked muscle growing moss.

wrap rubber bands around my head until it pops.

You know they’ve got poetry on Spotify? That’s some cool shit. Ended up following John Cooper Clarke into a rabbit hole of other British poets.

Decided to bite and try writing a bit of poetry for poetry’s sake.

Anyway. ‘Ere go. “June.”

I thought your voice was music

And your beauty - work of art.

I found your jokes amusing,

Ponygirl, a golden heart.

Your company, a journey

Which I never could depart

I really felt I loved you,

Well, I did once, at the start.

.

See, music can be different

Some songs good, and others crap.

Some begin melodically,

Then get crashing in a snap.

Starting subtle violins,

Then it blares with metal scrap

They lure you malevolent

Some music is a trap.

.

Some artists Donatello,

Others Jackson Pollock.

Some art goes well with wine,

Some turns you alcoholic.

Some is deep and intricate,

Some is purely bollocks

Can’t call this a masterpiece

I’m not sure what to call it.

.

Thought your lips were pure cuisine

And your beauty - work of art.

I never thought the kitchen

Would have mold and rot at heart.

The oven sent asunder

All the counters ripped apart

You’re a diner with one dish,

And it’s a dry and sour tart.

Light it up

hit the stage

hit the dance floor.

Fight enough

start a riot

there's a chance for

love to grow

for the hate

to transform

Feeling these

knots in my head

am I deformed?

.

Feel like my

head, my heart,

a rock show.

Is this peace

or pain, I

do not know.

I can't close

my eyes and

the clock's slow

Pray I'll

kill myself

in Chicago

.

My head pounds

bass drum

memories of,

days when you

and I meshed

and we made love.

Wish that I

went and bought you

all your makeup.

Maybe some money's

all we needed

to makeup

.

Feel like my

head, my heart,

a rock show.

Is this peace

or pain, I

do not know.

I can't close

my eyes and

the clock's slow

Pray I'll

kill myself

in Chicago

.

With hate your

voice went shrill

you went cold.

Who's this girl

beside me

don't know.

Wake up in

the morning pain

or comfort?

All your screaming

I wanna go

Van Gogh

.

Feel like my

head, my heart,

a rock show.

Is this peace

or pain, I

do not know.

I can't close

my eyes and

the clock's slow

Pray I'll

kill myself

in Chicago

Father God

I've got a favor

to ask of you.

.

It is said

you can justify

the hell I knew.

.

So now I raise

my tired eyes

to the morning blue.

.

God above,

I've got a favor

to ask of you.

.

If I don't wake up

dead in the morning

could you stand by me

if just for a moment

give pause to the pain

put a break to the moaning

while I'm stuck in this mind

and I just can't control it.

.

If you're gonna drag me out

of my bed in the morning

then I ask I wake in

a place I feel at home and

I can pour a little brown, light

a green, and get to hoping

that I'll find good work,

good love, and consoling.

.

Ya Allah

Ana mish aerif

Ana riyeh feyn.

.

My head

is clouded, dark

and the sky is grey.

.

I've found

I hate the sun,

and dance in the rain.

.

And at night,

I close my eyes,

dream of the grave.

.

If you're gonna drag me out

of my bed in the morning

then I ask I wake in

a place I feel at home and

I can pour a little brown, light

a green, and get to hoping

that I'll find good work,

good love, and consoling.

raindrop

on the tongue

of the parched, de-

flated beach ball

in the hands of the young, lit

cig 'tween the fingers

of a nun,

one sin's never gonna be enough

fuck the prose

words will never be enough.

the writing's on the walls

but you can't read it

you aren't here

i need a sign you

can't ignore or a call

you're bound to hear

.

the words just aren't enough

on their own

to pull my heart strings

i can't find peace

without my blood

on guitar strings.

.

the words are going cold

the poetry has not a heartbeat.

i need to take the stage

and pray to god that they can't see me.

Not sure why I always feel the need to preface these with something.

Feels weird not to. As if I'm just "Hey chump, here's a poem, read it."

Y'all hear that Lil Nas X track "Old Town Road" yet? Never knew I needed to hear Billy Ray Cyrus on a trap beat until it happened.

If that blends your smoothie, you might also like "Like A Farmer" x Lil Tracy ft. Lil Uzi Vert

I like this whole hickhop wave coming through. Cool to see people playing around with genre-bending.

For all those "that's not real country" folk, here's some Cody Jinks and some Brown Bird (technically blues I think, fight me.)

Anyway, here's the thing. Feel free to read it. If anyone here uses one of those e-reader speech things for the vision-impaired, how does this sound? Does the reader have any rhythm to it, or does it just feed you line after line?

Alright closing out for real. Later.

I thought something strange

skeleton felt out the closet

In the house, the paint

kept peeling off the walls

and on the bed, decay

as the wood went rotten

Never could build a house,

made a life making coffins.

.

In the morn, I wake

and the skies are grey and cloudy

Turn to kiss my babe,

is it love me or get off me

and my head, it aches

the anxiety is starting

so I say fuck it all and I make me some coffee.

.

Lips on me -

desire.

Arsonist

with a lighter.

Feed my soul,

make the heart burn.

Where there's smoke

there is fire.

.

An infant strand-

ed out there in the snow

Sh'said "Babe there's a chill,

you'd better close the door."

Close your rain-

bow, there's no pot of gold.

And there's no one to sing

you any songs of your home.

.

Fill my art-

eries with bourbon old

Loverboy

til I am dead and gone

Rip off my skin

and leave my body cold

My son,

the devil

is a pretty blonde.

.

And I said

Mama

I’m tired.

My hands shake

My eyes burn.

Hair’s thin

Heart afire.

My lovely little lover was a liar.

.

Closed the door,

the hinge broke.

No chimney

house filled smoke.

Scents arose

of burnt mold.

A lake of blood and

guilt can't support a home.

Hi everyone.

Hello to all the new faces who don't know my name - (or how out of character it is that there are capital letters in this post!) This isn't really for you - or for anyone in particular I guess; I just wanted to write something to those who have followed my work on here.

So, you.

Howdy.

It's been a minute.

I just wanted to give you all a quick update; let you know that I'm safe. I've had a few of you reach out to me since my last post. I hope I didn't scare anybody.

For those interested - things... aren't all that better now, hahaha. Sorry.

But the good news is, they're trending up in a really good way.

I've decided to stop drinking for awhile; I figured that isn't really helping my cause at this point. I'll pick that back up when there's something worth celebrating, when I'm in better company, and when I'm back in control of myself.

I've started getting a lot more interviews for work; shouldn't be long now until I have a position landed and I'm back to being a functioning adult.

And uh - I started therapy. Been about a month now. I like my therapist, they're very sweet, very weird in a fun/eclectic kind of way. (My kinda person.) And that's been going well.

In fact, that's part of this.

It's not just Tildes I abandoned.

I've let a lot of very important people to be fall to the wayside lately - total isolation. Tonight, I started calling them back, apologizing, letting them know what was going on. And that's gone well so far.

Now I'm here doing the same for you.

I don't know if I'll be back on Tildes all too frequently. There's a lot on here I might just need to let rest.

So I just wanted to say that I'm here. I love you. I'm sorry. And, bye.

For now.

eyes crackle open

half past three

stomach on fire and

my body feels meek

i stumble out my chair

and here the creak in my knees

you're only in your twenties

and you're living ninety

.

my head feels funny

and i'm tired of the numbing

and there's too much week

at the end of my money

a little bumblebee lost

wishing for his honey

beat my head against the hive

until the world starts buzzing

and it falls.

.

and i

set

foot

down

on that unpaved road

step

forward like an orphan

on a search for a home

walk

forward hand to God

if he answers my call

honey (i'll) be

leaving for now

hope it won't be long

.

soul

full of gravel and

a heart made of gold

imma

face my music and

play my song

send

me down to hell

if it rights my wrongs

honeybee

i'm leaving for now

hope it won't be long.

                                              #19 by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

So rent a museum
and see yourself in mirrors-
In every room an exposition
of a different phase in your life
with all your figures and faces
and pictures of all the people who
passed through you
and all the scenes
you passed through
all the landscapes of living
and longing and desiring
and spending and getting
and doing and dying
and sighing and laughing and crying
(what antic gesturing!)
And walking through the house of yourself
you climb again to all
the rooms of youself
full of the other lives & selves
who passed through them
Rooms rooms rooms
piled up haphazard
in the architecture of time
And all the bodies clinging to each other
or rushing to windows
to break out of the room
which they boxed themselves into
All the people of your life
in one house in the night
all lights lit
like a cruise ship at sea
And you run up and down
knocking on all the doors
through which you hear
all the once-familiar voices
laughing or sobbing or singing
And you run to the roof
and look up to the mute night sky
And in the wheeling template of stars
see the faces of the figures
of the lovely lovers who
had once made time stand still
now all fixed
in their constellated relations
motionless in time

So that
some day
as time bends around
to its beginning again
you find them all again
and yourself

hiiiiiii everybody guess who drunk for the first time this year ayeeeee

we're back

i love it

i hate it

i miss you

how damned lazy

is the poet

who only ever writes.

how wasted

is the painter

who drowns out his lines.

how atrophied

the pianist

who cannot bend the light

if this is art then it isn't mine.

.

a screw

driver is useless

when nails

are the nuisance

an easel

is pointless

with verbally

mindless rhymes.

.

to what length in an artist?

if you cannot wield

every edge of the

toolbox right?

.

not every thought

is at best

through emo

writings expressed

kid, sometimes

you have to

know your lines.

.

to better outline your problems.

(better outline your problems)

better sketch out your issues

(guarantee she don't miss you)

better sculpt out the tissue

and try to attend to

the shit you

can only rhyme.

.

what a waste of an artist.

.

what a waste of an artist.

.

you call your poems cathartic

but that's your only

medium, right?

.

you wanna be a God

you better step up

better learn to

do your makeup

hopefully you learn

to draw her thighs.

.

better off dead otherwise.

.

if you're not the greatest it's a guise.

ich lebe noch von dir

so if i won't be remembered

then by your God

i should prolly' die.

.

what the fuck is an artist.

.

wjo is reallt an aritst.

.

you call your poems cathartic,

but that's your only

medium - right?

God

put me at ease

deliver me to peace.

if you're above

deliver me to love.

there's not a sign

you're months without a call.

i begin to think

you never cared at all.

in winter breezes

hang me from the trees.

god i'm sick of

never feeling enough.

make me crease and

break me at my knees.

tarot prophet guide me

with your crystal ball.

.

read the names i've

written in my skin.

banish me to walk

alone in cold.

hit my face and tell me

this is it.

kill me, say you

never cared at all

.

screaming in your car

you said you'd call the cops

if i don't take my seatbelt off

on our way home and walk.

.

screaming in our home

you'd always slam the doors

and leave the silence ringing

in the halls

.

alone in dark i wailed

you didn't care.

as you sat there on your phone

and talked and talked.

.

always acting like

i wasn't there.

even asked me to pretend

that we were not.

.

remember back in college

when you made some friends

and tried to make me hide,

not show me off?

.

tried to tell them

i was just a friend.

and when i protested

god you told me off.

.

but when i made you mad

how mad you went.

and appeared inside my room

without consent.

.

i walked in and found you there

sat at my desk.

it should've ended there

but i regressed.

.

i said we would grow past it

never did.

always made me second guess

the life i live.

.

it's not my fault

that you stayed home alone.

why do i slash and cry and pray

that you'll pick up the phone.

.

tell me why i love you

when it's wrong.

.

.

.

tell me why i want you

when you're gone.

.

.

.

i want you to ignore me,

miss my calls.

.

.

.

if at least you'll speak

to me at all.

fuck you.

i'm sorry.

i love you.

fuck you.

fuck you too.

so i've just recently learned about this guy, and his work is quickly becoming a favorite of mine.

i'm admittedly crazy poorly-read (is that the antonym to well-read?) when it comes to...

well, anything besides self-help books released up to "The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fuck" by Mark Manson.

and his work has been concise and just fucking accurate enough for me to enjoy.

so i present you all,

a journey through love, with Richard Brautigan.

-2

Everybody wants to go to bed

with everybody else, they're

lined up for blocks, so I'll

go to bed with you. They won't

miss us.

in this first stage, we see that little Richie's met himself someone special, and off they go arm in arm to live happily ever after.

Romeo and Juliet

If you will die for me,

I will die for you

and our graves will be like two lovers washing

their clothes together

in a laundromat

If you will bring the soap

I will bring the bleach.

and here we see something that, personally, i found surprising from a poet who got his start in the 50s.

this piece emulates the incendiary, passionate, limitless love that some of us have been lucky enough to experience in the early years of our lives. the love where it's the both of you against the world. the love where the most mundane tasks seem incredulous solely because they're done together. the love that i have only seemed to find in life, through trauma bonding.

their love is powerful. their love is radiant.

I Feel Horrible, She Doesn't

I feel horrible. She doesn't

love me and I wander around

like a sewing machine

that's just finished sewing

a turd to a garbage can lid.

their love is over.

the crass yet poignant imagery somehow simultaneously flashing feelings of uselessness, self-loathing, and loss.

you are here.

Haiku Ambulance

A piece of green pepper

fell

off the wooden salad bowl:

so what?

the sheer stoicism here is inspiring to me.

this is the mindset that i want - and don't have the emotional energy to cultivate.

were Brautigan still around and kickin' today, i'd buy the man a shot of the best whiskey i could get with $7 and thank him for emulating the exact mindset i want, need, and desire

in four lines.

it's simple - the green paper is a fraud, illusory. from afar or even from near with a quick glance - the green paper is another leafy green of the salad. a leaf of lettuce, a bit of cabbage. even if you press your face into the bowl and smell, the paper will smell of salad and nothing but.

it falls onto the floor, you pick it up to throw it away. you notice the texture inapropos with more roughness, and frailty than a leaf of a vegetable. you test it - you tear it.

it was paper.

it was not the spinach you'd desired.

it was not real.

it was not what you wanted.

regardless of the time you've spent preparing the salad, chopping your veg, blending your dressing, tossing it all, and fixing it for presentation,

if you throw this paper out - it will be no loss, and your salad will only be better for it.

a green piece of paper fell off the wooden salad bowl.

so what?

Love Poem

the piece that brought Brautigan in to my attention in the first place.

It's so nice

to wake up in the morning

all alone

and not have to tell somebody

you love them

when you don't love them

any more.

resolve.

clarity.

peace.

the earlier bleach has gone unsipped. she has come, she has gone. he has suffered, he has grown.

and now, he is at peace.

his world back to...

normal.

this has been a journey through love with Richard Brautigan.

I'VE GOT

red wine

nicotine

fresh chocolate chip cookies

the plaid heated blanket that keeps me

cuddled up in the recliner that doubles

as my bed.

I'VE GOT

red wine

daydreams

moving to a different city with a different scene

i wanna meet new friends,

try codeine

find love or find drugs to console me

I'VE GOT

red wine

thin skin

pink like your soft cheeks when they're sunkissed.

haulover beach, you were naked

on a trip,

and you screamed, and you screamed, and i hate it.

I'VE GOT

red wine

ain't shit

except seven little boxes full of bullshit

old love notes kissed with red lips

seven boxes of evidence you didn't mean shit.

I'VE GOT

a lotta bit of lethargy

all my energy drained.

i remember the day where you looked at my eyes

and you said "babe since you met me you don't look the same"

you looked at the bags,

(beat.)

and you said "that was me"

(beat.)

and of course i dismissed it

said babe don't be silly

i envisioned us happy and said that "you make me complete."

I'VE GOT

red wine

white lies.

red wine.

red wine.

GOT.

red wine

no time.

it's time.

lifeline.

we met in a field

i plucked a fruit from your veins

you encouraged me to eat

i exchanged with you a name.

.

i kept you close inside a jar

and with time, you turned sour

you encouraged i add water

lest it be the final hour.

.

my glass turned pink

with the hue of your skin

you explained - it's drink,

you encouraged me to sip

.

i never knew beauty

like your taste upon my lips

you are my favorite poison

and i have now, not a drip.

hey this is tildes so i should talk about code.

i dont type each > for the markdown individually.

got a tiny function i wrote that does it for me: https://repl.it/repls/HonoredRubberyProfessional

so there's that for anyone who wants an easier time formatting their thing.

stuff at the bottom. not necessarily inspo. just.

yeah

i just

want to go back

to normal.

normal like in 2016

when i had a little cash

and spent it all

on books, coffee, clothes, teenage shit

i was nineteen

we had yet to meet

back to normal

like the centuries

where i would never be

from the dawn of the earth

up to the nineties.

back to normal

back to friends

back to hobbies and dreams

back to having endless things

that i found exciting

back to normal

when i'd stay up a little late

and fall asleep, be up at 8

and make my coffee

not living in the night,

sleeping in the morning.

.

but the meds are all a hex,

cyanide with side effects

take this pill if you're depressed

now youre a narcoleptic wreck

and your car's a crumpled mess

so momma drives you to your check-

ups full of shit you never said

like how you wanna quit - dead.

because you say something she think

is wrong you end up in the shrink

with all the people with the bigger problems

thrashing as they shriek

and you wake up on a table

see the warden of the clink

shoving hands into your mouth

tryna feed you what they think

'll fix your fucking problems.

hooked - benzodiazepines.

and now you're mellow, now you're numb

for now your skin'll cease to bleed

and still you look around in envy

pretty people - normalcy.

.

i gotta get out this house

get back to normal

maybe she can't find me there.

maybe i can get a text

or get some coffee

breathe, not even care

'bout if i'll turn a cursed corner

see her curly golden hair,

and have a flashback to the nights

spend crying lonely in despair

as she would sit, a room away

sipping vodka in here chair

taking snaps and scrolling insta

for her modelling career

and i would wail my soul would bleed

praying that her heart would hear

and she would get up, come and hold me

stroke my hair like "mama's here."

and i could breathe

our love immortal

i want nothing but a world

where i am back in full control

through death or breath

just make me normal.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NB7RBZ1yGY

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w--D1S8SrCQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NO5JLdsNxSk | Lyrics

currently 7 hours into a 24 hour shift that will see me through to the end of this project.

this song came on that helped me find catharsis when i last felt like this in 2014.

coincidentally, i'd just finished one of my few milestones in the project

i could take a break if i wanted to.

i could hear the words filling themselves in, treating the song like a template.

decided i'd take a minute to "remix" or "cover" this song for how things are going this time around.

here's the original.

maybe give it a listen, then jump into this piece,

out of words now.

bishop

[Verse 1]
You still cross my mind from day to day
And I mostly cry
Still so set on finding out where we went wrong
and why
So I retrace our every step with a bloodwet knife
Trying to figure out what your head thinks
And my head just ain't what it used to be
So I ask,

...what's the point anyway?

[Verse 2]

I remember bringing boxes up the stairs to your apartment
Knowing love was slipping
rapidly away
I remember the skin of your forehead
Your nose and your lips I'd always kiss when I was out of things to say
You held my hand, and you would always promise me
You'd promise me pretty things but I would never understand
I remember when you said you didn't love me
And I swear not a single force on earth could stop the trembling of my hand

[Verse 3]
I remember how you smiled through the smoke in a crowded little coffeehouse
And laughed at all my jokes
And I remember the way that you dressed
While we wasted all the best of us in alcohol and sweat
And I remember when I knew that you'd be leaving
How I barely kept up breathing and I bet if I could to do it all again
I'd feel the same pain
I remember faded driving through the city in tears
How I wept to god in fits, I've hated Texas ever since

I've found it's true what people say
That death and drugs can numb the pain
And every single day I want to fade away, cus

[Verse 4]
I still remember independence tricked us
And lead us helpless holding cash into a pit to be devoured
I still remember how we held so strong to this
Though we had never really settled on a way out
I still remember your blank face
And how we'd always find a way recommit the same mistakes
I still dream that it would all come back together
Just to fall apart again

[Bridge]
My dear
I hear your voice in mine
I've been alone here
I've been alone here
I've been afraid, my dear
I've been afraid, my dear
I've been at home here
I've been at home here
You've been away for years
You've been away for years
I've been alone
I've been alone
I've been alone
I've been alone

[Verse 5]
I breathed your name into the air, I etched your name into me
I felt my anger swelling, vision black, I can't see
I held your name inside my heart but it got buried in my fear
It tore the wiring of my brain, I did my best to keep it clear
So dear, no matter how we part I hold you sweetly in my head
And if I do not miss a part of you, a part of me is dead
If I can't love you as a lover, I will love you in my death
Anything to see you smile, keep you happy in my end.

hi i'm bishop
and i'm the guy you probly see
inside your dreams
who shows up for half a second
then i morph into a sheep

no wait im bishop
im the guy who's in the back
of that one photo that you
took out by the beach in
2018 out in cabo

hold on, no, it's bishop
it's the person that you messaged
when you posted up on tumblr
needing help with your depression

i mean

no

wait

i'm bishop!

i mean

i'm 1930s jazz superstar Cab Calloway.
i don't really play many instruments
but i can sing
i'm a throat player

hi my name is bishop
and i'm actor Matthew Lillard
hah like zoinks babe, i was shaggy
let me take you out to dinner

but then she turned to me
all worriedly
i asked her "whats the problem b?"
she said "i'm not some pretty girl,
i'm bishop! i'm your coffee!"

and i looked around like what the hell
and down onto my bed i fell
the pillow was my face
i was the bottles on the shelf

hi there pal, my name is bishop!
wait i lied it's Captain Morgan!
don't you love the way i
can't walk straight in my own Jordans
(that were actually pretty expensive shoes, like who pays that much for shoes? i mean i get the aesthetic and all i have some jackets that were kinda expensive but like

...dude.)

(cough)

hi my name is bishop
but i'm really Roddy Piper
and i'm feelin hella Rowdy cus my
ex she made my life hurt

i mean wait
no

i'm Bert Kreischer!
i'm im a machine!
and i'm a funny guy!
i'm hella rich, i'll slide some money by
if you can sing me beddie-bye

no fuck
i'm Tyler Perry
i make really funny movies
and i think you'd probly like me
if you ever really knew me

i mean

im bishop
and i eat a lot of fruit
but i still cant seem to get rid
of my stomach
i've considered "fasting" before and i used to but i like to cook too much so i end up like not eating for a day and then cooking a lot (like a lot) and really enjoying that meal and the whole process but it kinda nullifies the whole thing.

i'm gordon ramsay.

i'm

im chef Joel Robuchon and i have hella Michelin Stars

and my heart burns

i mean fuck i ate too much i'm

im'm larry the cable guy, do you have heartburn? i could

*sigh* sell you

Prilosec

i'm bishop

i'm

....

anyone but me.

cheers

y'already know who it is
bishop - little punk bitch.

's go. no need to comment or whatever. just yelling at the internet today.

Xes On My Eyes For Life.

tw: self-harm/suicide/alcohol/drugs

startin off the year all
alone inside my bedroom
lookin back in the past
what i been through
how you'd pet my hair,
cuddle close in my bedroom
now ain't nothin but depressive
air in the bedroom
look what i get up to
xans and the mushrooms
body don't have much room
left for me to love you
it pushes all the air out
in case you maybe come thru
you took all of my breath out
and i can't even speak you

name into the air
with no fingers in my hair
sippin whiskey in my chair
i can see your shadows here
you told me "lay it bare, give
your heart and boy i swear"
from now until the day you die
i promise i'll be there."

now i'm broken down
and wearing out
your voice in my head
get it out
i'm gettin up and pullin down
the liquor off the shelf

my empty bed is
screaming out
i'm praying that you'll
hear me while
i'm masturbating moaning out
"I'm gonna kill myself."

Прости меня,
Пожалуйста
now is my time
убей меня
princess - зайчик
i can't take it
baphometic
angel - wrists slit

cus i'm broken down
and wearing out
i know the truth you
hate me now
i'm gettin up and pullin down
the liquor off the shelf

my empty bed is
screaming out
i'm praying that you'll
hear me while
i'm masturbating moaning out
"I'm gonna kill myself."

BISHOP NEHM MICH UNTER - UNTERGANG 2019

Xes on my eyes for life

seems like some people 'roudn here tdont know that bishop an emo rapper on the comeup 👀

so lemme introduce myself

bonjour

im bishop.

i write hella poetry, and i just got a midi board and a expensive-ass course on Logic Pro X so imma learn how to produce as well.

imma kind, lighthearted fella, but poetry is my muse to get the dark shit off my chest

and rap is the zeitgeist now so i dont gotta feel ashamed of that anymore lmao

i sold my soul for love and cash, but that keeps biting back

we'll see how siht plays out

.

i love comments, and always peep my inspo tracks or we cant be friends

(jk but srsly)

much love, spread positiv y, all of that shit,

bishop

ps i also cook a lot so if u hungry for some plants hmu

peep tha inspo at the bottom

a wise man once said
don't let your dreams be dreams
so any time i go to sleep
it's always nightmares indeed
a lucid hellscape, i cant
move i cant scream
as i lay there unawake
my fists pounding at the sheets
it steady creeps, in my head
it lays dormant in the day
but still it's stench seeps out
constant suffocates my brain
as i struggle for a breath
and my heart starts to race
i just wanna lay down and
fantasize a better day

chasin xanny with the whiskey
give a fuck about my kidneys
life feels like a living hell
if the furnace isn't in me
so im steady blowin smoke
out my lungs like a chimney
my body like the house that
you used to live in with me
now it's empty and i'm starving
feelin ugly, i'm not eating
but the devil promised riches
thus, the dark, i will believe in.

---

So Spoke Zarathustra
we're in this shit again
as i built up another hope
and then i lost another friend
now there's demons in my head
i expose my skeleton
i thought that i could trust you
always swore you're genuine

but now i'm in this swamp again
and i be wadin' through the water
my skin begins to bubble up
my blood is getting hotter
and i can hear a voice within
screaming out with an offer
all the pain will end if i just
offer up my slaughter
let the water take me under
let the Bishop take me under
i could send my soul away
and throw my body in gutter
and i shudder in my slumber
fingers gripping at the sheets
and i wake up in a sweat
this is what she did to me.

---

don't let your dreams be dreams
let them be nightmares
when your soul's in the dark
you can trust that the night cares
upon a hilltop
there stood a white mare
who scoffed my direction
took off and left me there

taking an L like
fuck, i'm here again
Zoroastrian hell
as my heart starts withering
cut that bitch out,
used my last breath
to bury it
fell to the ground
as my life was
diminishing

send me to hell
then at least i'll be free of this

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DxvLc2a6Iao&t=112s

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ff0bq_ydEQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w--D1S8SrCQ

if anyone would be interested in my top 10 emo rap tracks of 2018 lemme kno because i know what they are i just font have the everny to write a wholeass post on it but if yall want it i will

bye now

BISHOP NEHM MICH UNTER

we off the drink we off the emo shit

esskeetit

peep the inspo track sat the bottom or we cant be ffriends

sold my soul to the devil

so that i could feel valued

remember bein in a empty

home with a vacuum

former straight-edge

off the drink, off the valium

wanna go back to our

mornings with the cartoons

made my heart a whale

then you hit it with a harpoon

bleedin on the beach, staring

up at the full moon

sometimes life rains

down in a monsoon

i'd be glad to drown if

it means i can love you

.

but i cant even hug you

can't even text you.

antidepressooos

bishop 5'6" but he tryna

be big news.

.

tryna get big so you

cannot forget me

honey your love is a

xanny it's deadly

how'm i supposed to

forget about kelly

or bout all of those nights

that you called me, unsteady

wish i loved you correctly

shit got unsteady

i was just tryna get

us a few pennies

put you in a bentley

put you in the fendi

wasn't rich enough so

you got all offended

on the offensive

antidepressents

fuck that bullshit

it just makes me sedated

.

dont wanna feel shit

if i cant feel you

prayin that you'll text me

"let me heal you"

you got 50 shades of grey

i can see through

but somehow still

made me believe you

ignroed all the red flags

so i could keep you

mistook for an angel

whenever i'd see you

but now you a model

you said "i don need you"

looking for a camera

you can show your tits to

then the devil approached me.

said "i can guarantee you."

.

so i went to the sea

heard a voice, "take a knee"

so i nodded, agreed

and he said "you will serve me -

Boy listen closely

each one of your dreams

surrender control to

you want the money,

someone to devote to,

4-k square foot house

to go home to.

this, i can construe

if you submit to

living your life, all despite

where you'll go to.

i now control you

your soul - i have claim to

but think of all the things

that my hands can bring you.

so i bowed on my knees -

now this man, i submit to.

.

ave satani

i give you my body

my soul, it was drawn, he

took it, made a copy

forgot about mommy

woke up smelling coffee

looked in the mirror

did not hate my body

the sky was all foggy

and greyed-out, but oddly

i liked it enough to

not waste the day nodding

or off of the molly

or in my room rocking

with her voice talking

.

ave satani

the blood and the body

the dark it is calling

and i find it calming

it's sated the longing

lil bishop's evolving

let's go to the graveyard

i feel like walking

and talking

and nodding

inspo tracks: peep this shit

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w--D1S8SrCQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ff0bq_ydEQ

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y17IQ96Zzjk

I'm rather sleepy, generally very reserved when it comes to sharing my work, and not a native user of English, but I have a couple poems in English, and I though I'd share one here and see what the folks think of it. I love the challenge of writing stuff in languages other than my native tongue.

a bird with no wings
a song no one sings
a sorrow when time brings
         nil.
ex nihilo nihil fit
et words have no wit
mouth knows only to spit
         nil.
time is scarse and gods wobble
in vain hurry naive men hobble
ignoring they will only nobble
         nil.

apathetic.
hardly wanna move, too
depressed to drink
pathetic.
see a demon's hand
on your closet door
forget it.
possession and a hell-
bound sentence better
than remembrance.
my uncle got so fucked
up that he passed, guess
it's genetic.

exhausted
tryna make depression
beautiful, poetic.
tired of this dance
between lethargic,
apoplectic.
brain on sober
tweakin every minute
schizophrenic. all
the thoughts i'm
barely eatin tryna live
up to aesthetics.

tired of my fucking
skin, a serpent's wish
to shed it.
i saw all the flags
drenched in red
how prophetic.
baphomet in
female form, they said
you'd be angelic.
my single dying wish
you'd be a little
sympathetic

-.

don't come
don't come
to my funeral.

don't cry
don't cry
at my funeral.

just know i
thought you
were beautiful.

even with your
knife at my throat
beautiful

.

where to go
no one's home,
honey can i call?

every day
feed the night
it's insatiable

i never thought
i'd come to say it
maybe its your fault.

i cant believe ive
come so low to say
that its your fault.

-.

i hope you kiss me,
hope you hold me,
when i see you in hell.
cuddle closely
and console me
when i see you in hell.
girl dont push me
will he? wont he?
boy how many pills?
all his poems,
magnum opus, testa-
ment and will.

if i cant know you
lay beside you
then somebody will.
dont wanna own you
or control you, you
do what you will.
i'll just sit here in
the cold, alone, and
write my will.
bottoms up a
litre wine a couple
hands of pills

When He broke the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, “Come.” I looked, and behold, a black horse and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.

a beer in my hand
then a piss in a bush
xans in the bedroom
geeked off the kush
half past nine, running dry
you came thru
bought an 18 pack
and we split it in two
didnt know what we
were getting up to
cuddled on the couch, you
were watching cartoons
slowly got up, said i
got something to do
headed outside, took
a piss off the roof

two more shots then i
broke the seal, looked up
at the sky saw the devil
on a black horse
headed right for me
flying in a crash course
spoke into my ear, and
his voice was all coarse

his fork-tongued words
hit my ears like sand
and he spoke in a language
that i didn't understand
my stomach felt tight
pale white in my hands
and i went back in at his command

then i didn't sleep
for the next three nights
and i didn't eat shit
popcorn, white rice
dancing damning dreams of
baby looking at me nice
sugar plums withered to
a kiss, a hug, and a good night

-.

soothe-speaking visions of
your eyes like a blue quartz
watching slowly, clouds morph
devil on a pale horse
memories in full force
time has come, no recourse
white wedding dressed corpse
wicca phase task force

-.

as she spoke, her eyes became green
stomach butterflies and weak knees
god has sent an angel for me
her hands crawled in my chest slowly
said, "it's your heart which i'm holding"
gently smiled and exposed her teeth
then ate it whole, as a wild beast
a soft call in the distance spoke in peace
hades
with arms open lovingly
and i fell

mutter-
seel-
inallein.
mutter-
seel-
inallein.

peep the inspo at the bottom

i finnally found some shit i lvoe

fuggg i hate to post this much because i'm certain my shit gets annoying. i bet there's hella people on here who view my posts as "fluff" and want it gone but highkey idgaf.

i know tildes likes to be open to discussion and likes to look deeper into things - ain't my fault i don't get that many comments ¯\(ツ)/¯. i tried writing more secretive and intricate shit people could pick apart if they want, but those weren't received as well as some of my more blunt posts.

though that one poem i did where i referenced rocky horror did really well.

i dunno.

i just hope my shit belongs here 😂 but i guess if i've been allowed to make over thirty posts in the past three months that means i'm in the clear.

dont be afraid to keep me in check, and dont be afraid to comment on my stuff.

i invite your questions, your critique, your thoughts in general. i may be fucxed in the head, but i'm an artist above all else (is that true?). if you want to dig into my shit or have any ways i can improve on my work, i'd be so glad to know you have no idea

i write my stuff to express myself but that does no good if no one's listening lmao so i want to write shit people like. i welcome all feedback.

anyway i'm ranting again and i'm only tipsy. imma finnish this drink (kuinka voit?), then imma find a beat and ride on some shit.

y'all know the drill.

say it with me.

esskeeetiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit,

i'm actually crying right now. i found a beat that sounds just like the kind of shit i want to make and everything is just rushing to me. this is insane.

this is the blues moderna i want to make. i feel like Taj Mahal

ain't nothing truer in my heart
than missouri blues
remember driving through St. Louis
sitting next to you
remembering the times you said you loved me
guess it wasn't true
told me you'd love me forever
now i'm feeling all confused.

baby where'd you go and why'd
you take my heart away from me
now i write pathetic songs and
can't stop thinking pitifully
wonder if you talk me good
or speak on me in mimicry
i can't stop hating myself
and looking at me critically

mirrors are the worst friend
a man could ever have
when a pretty blonde girl went
and tore his heart in half
when he's sure he's lived the best
years he'd ever have
what good is any man, girl,
without his better half?

take me to the delta where
a man can sing in peace
laughing at me, drunk
when i'm just tryna find relief
can't afford the therapy,
for shit you did to me
i'd let you take my life if
you just killed me in your sheets

(chorus)

baby please
tell me that you care a-bout me
promise you don't laugh at me
tell me that you'll come on close and hold me

-.

baby hear me howlin' at your back door
wonder what you're not talkin to me for
hoping that you answer and take me home
take me back before everything went wrong

take me back to days when i still loved good
it was us against the world but girl we endured
our thoughts were caked in sin although our hearts pure
we got all cuddled close and smoked a backwood

take me back to days when you still liked me
and my body wasn't cause for anxiety
wanna go back to twenty sixteen
eyes blue, hearts black, minds pristine

baby hear me howlin' at your back door
wonder what you're not talkin to me for
hoping that you answer and take me home
take me back before everything went wrong

(chorus)

baby please
tell me that you care a-bout me
promise you don't laugh at me
tell me that you'll come on close and hold me

i feel like if i write any more on this one imma ruin it. i don't like that.

peep the inspo

(iit's not rap. it's blues. actually peep the inspo)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4YPMiFaPWo (oooooof jesus christ, 1:13!!!!!!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-iqTRNUOsFI

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c0_eRVroLqs

i fucxing hate dallas, i fucxing hate texas.

today's different -

or at least, this part of it.

a lot of the posts i been making the past couple months have been out of this empty kinda want to write something.

as per the usual, i came to starbucks to work on some shit, but i felt something in my chest, got some inspo, and here we are again lmao.

fair warning ahead, this is one of my more...idk, "brazen" posts. i dunno, superficial as hell save for one or two bars. enjoy it or not - love you anyways.

peep the inspo at the bottom

esskeetit.

seeing all these people walking
round arm in arm
while im sitting in my house in
the dark - pop bars
crash cars - cop cars
hella sirens in the distance
blood in the moonlight glistens
bishy getting distant
what's going on in your
head causing dissonance?
what's weighing up with suicide
in equivalence?
still hooked on to
the past in imprisonment?
keep looking back at
what you had and you're missing it?

-.

fuck that - cut that
sideswipe - bone crack
i wouldn't go back
despite all the flashbacks
i still got hopes
want my life back
i do this shit 'cus
my soul went bad
layin in a bed full of
pressed pills and porn mags
filling up a pool with
self-hatred and cognac
pistol labeled "lovers"
and the bullet "no contact"
wanna ski slopes 'til
my eyes go all black

-.

i don't hate that girl
i hate my self
don't hate this world
i hate my self
spent red candles
on my shelf
lost 21 grams when
i weighed myself

ave satani
my fear and my secrets
my tears and my blood
my devotion and regrets
my love and disdain and
my pain and forgiveness
these things are my own
and my self is my weakness
so bring my destruction
and make me a demon

bishop.

inspo:

https://youtu.be/ShI6axFfqj4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2p09lM19FpU

https://youtu.be/9M1PY4lTY3g

bonus: https://youtu.be/DxvLc2a6Iao

i think i've stopped writing for myself recently.

i've been looking at my writing as "art" instead of self expression.

as if things have to have a certain depth, air of mystery, or room for interpretation in order for them to be valid.

i'm getting wine drunk and writing for me tonight.

this is a poem about love, drugs, and crashing cars. that's all.

tildes suggestion: ability to hide the amt of votes on a post.

"The wise man will live as long as he ought, not as long as he can."

• Seneca the younger

turned into a wino
'least im still alive tho
90 on the highway
drive into the signpost
fuckin on the yayo
stoic like im cato
i loved you to the nines
and you fucxed me over tenfold

choked me til my eyes closed
baby got a blindfold
didn't think youd hurt me
gave you all the control
used to be my handhold,
only wanted billfolds
tonight im gettin fucked up,
baby, where'd my gun go?

-.

used to be so cute
starin at your rosy cheeks
now i'm kissin on the
wine glass to the left of me
broken mirror shows the
shattered pieces of what's left of me
i dont even hate you
but baby, i am dead to me

-.

i recommend listening to this song before you jump into this next part if youre going to read it. i borrow the flow here

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmFkCNvfojg

plus, it's a damn good song.

hope he treats you well,
i'll see you in hell
wonder if you hate him,
wonder if you yell
wonder if you stress him
til his troubles swell
wonder if you make him
hide inside his shell

wonder if his money
towers high enough
if you ever got a
lexus to feel good enough
if you ever make him
dinner when his day was rough
if you ever drop your
bullshit and just show him love.

all i ever needed
was a cuddlebug
i swear i tried
my hardest, never good enough
tried to build a home
tried to show you love.
i was never good enough.

all the screaming, all
the fighting i got used to.
just wanted you to smile
cus deep down i really missed you
all it ever came to
was lies and "i hate you"s
i can still hear it
"you look like i abused you."

i felt my eyes going
wide, i was never fine.
dreaming 'bout a better
life almost all the time
'bout a day when we
were married, i could call you mine (&&)
had a home in missouri
everything was right

but any time i tried to
love you, you pushed me away
any time i tried to
hold you, told me "go away"
tried to build a better life for
us every day
then i guess you got your
lexus, made your getaway

claiming that you love me (this block isnt mine)
but you don't mean shit,
claiming that you had me
but you never did,
claiming that you love me
but you don't mean shit,
claiming that you had me
but you never did

pushed me to the side,
made me fade away.
vision fadin' black
i wont be okay
im stuck on this shit
each and every day
if i kill myself,
the dreams will go away.

sup everyone! catchin a vibe today, had a few joji tracks on repeat so i thought i'd build something out of his style/flow.

voici.

inspo:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulMHhPHYCi0
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmFkCNvfojg
https://tashacho.artstation.com/projects/EQ4on

doors creaking at the riverside
subtle fog besets an autumn night
white dresses in the lower tide
northern star hangs high

catches my eye
closing in on all sides
belt of Orion,
branch unified
eighth night, knocking coincides
groaning on the other side
doors among the trees
shaking hands you start to climb

-.

you've see the stars before
and they always keep their shape
one shoots down,
angel fell from grace
all of their alignments,
a familiar face
didn't want to come back to this place.

you liked things as they were
and you prefer a cityscape
slugging through your life
with your eyes ever agape
toeing through the words
and your hands began to shake
she said "you look like i abused you heaven's sake"

looked to the sky so many times
that i've mapped the stars out
screamed so many times now
only whispers come out
water from the river Styx
a seed began to sprout
it's the tree atop from which i'm looking out.

-.

doors creaking at the riverside
subtle fog besets an autumn night
white dresses in the lower tide
northern star hangs high

catches my eye
closing in on all sides
belt of Orion,
branch unified
eighth night, knocking coincides
groaning on the other side
doors among the trees
shaking hands you start to climb

bishop.

i'm slightly bored and ~creative hasn't had a lot of posts recently so i guess i'll toss some of my lot in here. here's some of the mediocre stuff i pen up more or less without editing in my off time. i have plenty more of these, but most of them require so much context that it'd be a pain in the dick to post them, so they're not likely to see daylight here any time soon. anyways

(note: now hopefully with less formatting fuck ups, lol.)

quick, general scribbles

scribble, scribble [unfinished]

No, you don’t matter—
you don’t matter, matter, matter…
like a symphony of voices in
the night, their uproarious cacophony
of noise inescapable,
rumbles—shaking. No sleep
to be found, no—you don’t matter…
Sleep is impossible, escape is…
impossible. Draw your mental curtains
in every window and bolt every lock shut—
shut in… shut in with the noise, no you
don’t matter, matter, matter—
Why do you shut yourself in? Why
do you shut yourself inside if you matter?
The voices tremble with fury—but peaceful
they are compared to the noise, echoing, booming—
If you did matter you wouldn’t hide!
You wouldn’t refuse to face the music, oh
if you mattered you’d admit that you’re crazy.
If you mattered the voices wouldn’t be. The
thoughts wouldn’t be. They wouldn’t be, no—
you don’t matter, matter, matter…
some symphony of voices the voices can be—
rattle like a rattle, regurgitating the same sound—
endlessly, on loop. Never enough to deafen the
thoughts, the thoughts never enough to silence
the voices. If you mattered you’d be free
of the voices, you see. Just another crazy
person you are. All alone, you and me...

Bor · der · line

Always, when meeting, be skeptical.
Be cynical, so when the deal falls through
you can pretend you never wanted
what was offered to you in the first place.
Pretend it doesn’t hurt every time
to tear everything down from day one when
you know it’s irrational action—
when you know if you could just be “normal”…
Go through the process a hundred times
over, stay up every night thinking
why it has to always be this way
and why you’re like this, why you’re so crazy—
never change, always an amorphous
blob of a person, never able to
fit into anything, to be what
you truly want to be, deep down. Normal.
Such is the life of an internet
vagabond—a sacrifice to the great
altar of the untreated mental
illness—crucified by their loneliness.

some stuff for my grand worldbuilding

Time (1921) // by Donas Beyten-Aytek

A dragon always cares for time,
for often he knows that it does rhyme.
And always grows up with the fable,
of the dragon that was able.
For ‘once in time’ a dragon ruled,
and ‘once in time’ that dragon fooled.
So ‘once in time’ that dragon lied,
and ‘once in time’ that dragon died.
And now a dragon lives with fears
of the changes time endears,
and hopes that time will one day cease
and leave his life alone in peace.
But no more is it ‘a’ dragon alone,
instead it is all which to fear is prone.
In face of time, no dragon is steady.
In face of eternity, no dragon is ready.

Dragons will not hail to a tyrant (1981) // by Tadin Aledi Geren

Dragons will not hail to a tyrant—
that much must be made clear
and shouted for the world to hear.
For a dragon enslaved and martyred—
on the altar of Bira, their blood spilled—
can never by any man be killed.
Yet dragons long have been enslaved—
by despot, by tyrant, by foreign power—
and it seems always the dragon should cower.
But soon, one day soon, the dragon
will rise from their ashes, from their grave
and find a dragon world to save.

Revolution (2009) // by Nesye Kalane-Aiselain

Revolution means nothing
if you don’t act.
If you don’t let the hillsides ring
with upstart revolutionary zeal
you are no true revolutionary—
you are no better than a tyrant king!
You can’t be a revolutionary
if you never let the proletarians sing.

ESKEETIT

ESKEETIT

ESKEETIT

ESKEEEETIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT

i like to save this wiine for special occasions because shit's a german specialty that i like to share with people but i only really talk to one other person in this whole fuuuuucking state so i spent it all on me.

out here wildin rn

i aint posted a new piece in a week(ish) so im doing two

but i post "qulaity" so im okay riiiiiight?

dont @ me if u aint catch tha links

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytVww5r4Nk0

https://i.imgur.com/LKIwWHa.png

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2p09lM19FpU ^{this here song issssss}

BIG MOOD

IMMA PLAY DEPRESSING
MUSIC TIL YOU
COME AND
HOLD ME

WENT AND BUILT A COFFIN
BUT I KEEP ON DRILL-
ING HOLES TO
BREATHE

IN HOPES I'LL SEE A PIGEON
WITH A NOTE THAT YOU
WROTE ON IT'S
FEET

SAYING THAT YOU'RE SORRY
WE FUCKED UP AND
YOU'LL COME HOME
TO ME

-.

DOPAMINE
UNKNOWN TO ME
BLACK AND WHITE
A KEATON SCENE

THERMOS FULL
OF KEROSENE
XANNY ON
DELIVERY

"DADDY WILL YOU
CARE FOR ME?"
I TRIED YOU WERE
NOT THERE FOR ME

SAW MY GRANDAD
BARELY BREATHE AND
THEN YOU TURNED
ABANDONED ME

-.

SORDID SCENES IN
SPOILED DREAMS WHEN
I THINK THAT YOU'VE
COME ON BACK

BRAIN AT REST I
FEEL MY FISTS
AS THEY POUND HARD
AGAINST THE BED

FUCK A LABEL
DON'T CARE IF
IT'S ABUSE, I
WANT IT BACK

ASKED ME IF
I'LL MISS YOU
HOLY FUCK I GUESS
I GOT IT BAD.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

FROM WALKIN' HOME
AND TALKIN' LOADS
TO NO MORE CALLS
LIVING ALONE

TO TEETH AND CLAWS
AND FRACTURED BONES
TO TOTALED CARS
AND BROKEN HOMES

LET IT GO
LET IT GO
DON'T HOLD BACK THE RIVER
LET IT FLOW

#DRAINGANG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CgvdbbuMQ_k

haha i'm really okay

FUCCCCCCCCCCCC IT WE DRUNK AGAIN

WE OUT HERE GEN Z PAINN VIBIN

*#BIGMOOD*

dont @ me if u aint catch tha links

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShI6axFfqj4

https://i.imgur.com/LKIwWHa.png

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DjhJ_Sv0MlI

ich schlaf'
auf einem Bett
das ich aus Stein
gemacht hab'

ich schließe
fest die augen
aber finde keine
Schaffe

einfach nur
das Mädel das
hat mich früher
verlassen

dann klebt mein arm
in der erde ein
um mich zu
begraben

-.

ich hab an
sie gelacht und
sie sieht mich
an mit Hass

ich hämmert auf'm
Nachttisch
bis ich wurde
aufgewacht

dann fragte ich
an Gott warum
ich denke immer
krass

Hände in die
Taschen, lauf'
alleine auf'm
Strass

ich möchte kein mehr
Weihnachten,
ob sie nicht an
mir sagt:

-.

Schätzi, guten
Morgen und
mich küsste auf'm
Hals

Ja ich
möchte Kaffee
ja ich lieb' dich
ebenfalls

"Liebe macht das
Heim" hat sie auf
unserem Wand
gemalt

lustig, dass sie
nicht mehr ruft
mich an oder
mich halt

-.
?
i dreamed
of you
with angered eyes,
a gaze that
filled with hate

i felt my arm
beat on my dresser
'til i did awake

a soft and shaky
soul succumbed to rub
against the grate

life has been for nothing since february eighth.\

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KvlGMCVGkQA

tu sais qui c'est

alright so the fuck is up with you people!? did y'all see my last post up here got like eighteen votes?

that's crazy! that's one of the best-received things i've posted on tildes, just, overall lmao.

glad to see my sober stuff can be decent competition to my drunk stuff.

on that, i pretty much don't drink on my own anymore (i mean some wine with dinner blah blah) but like drink ya feel?

if i'm at a kickback i'm always down to get fucked up, but coming out of this sober week i kinda restructured how i'm using stuff now.

like i used to try using kratom to get high p often and discovered that that's a shite idea. i just got all wirey and had stomach aches lol.

however just a little bit (~0.75g) in some tea is small enough to avoid any side effects and big enough to work as a solid mood regulator.

much to my discontent this just isn't the kinda thing you take recreationally (the whole reason i picked it up to begin with), but it does definitely boost your mood up like 30x, boost your self confidence, and even help you get some good sleep (if you're sipping red vein varieties.)

i was feeling like a lazy piece of shit (y'know as usual), sipped my tea, and ended up knee-deep in this udemy course for electron apps (building desktop apps like skype or something), made a solid breakfast, wrote this here ditty, and played like 3 hours of risk of rain. (gotta be lazy somewhere i guess.)

anyway this isn't a blog.

i had a weird concept for this piece and i'm not sure if it came through at all lmao. this was done in maybe 30 minutes.

let me know if you can guess what the piece is describing.

cheers,

bishop.

drip
drip

there's water on the
floor, so don't

slip
slip

shake your head,
try to catch a

grip
grip

drowning in your
dreams, your legs

kick
kick

bags under your
eyes, you're looking

sick
sick

.

try to move your
hand but you cant

feel
it

she wants to cuddle
up in your bed

but
it's

made of steel and
you can't seem to

budge
it

staring up in-
to a funnel

what's
this?

---

oh the autumn sounds
raining patters on the ground
i wake up with a jolt
on every time you come around

and you never text to
let me know before the fact
i'm second guessing every minute
tryna find out when you're at

now we're laying back,
looking straight into your eyes
wonder if the next thing you say
will be a goodbye

your silence is a lie
your crying leaves me mortified
let me go, let me go,
fuck, got water in my eyes.

---

drip
drip

drip drip

drip

drip

d..
.

.

drip
drip

drip
drip

there's water on the
floor, so don't

slip
slip

shake your head,
try to catch a

grip
grip

drowning in your
dreams, your legs

kick
kick

bags under your
eyes, you're looking

sick
sick

.

try to move your
hand but you cant

feel
it

she wants to cuddle
up in your bed

but
it's

made of steel and
you can't seem to

budge
it

staring up in-
to a funnel

what's
this?

(p.s. fuck yeah canada.)

post-mortem: holy actual beans dudes this is my most popular post by far! what'd you cats like about it so much?

i swear to god my brain and body work in tandom to make sure i never actually do anything productive.

i came to starbucks exclusively to work on some backend stuff for a project i've got, and i've spent the last hour sipping coffee, watching Joji music videos, and writing this lmao.

i wish there was something like cocaine that wasn't, well, cocaine, that you could take and then you'd be like "hey maybe i should clean my room. hey it's a nice day out i should take a walk. ya know if i get work done now, i can actually take a break without feeling like lazy trash later on!"

actually

that sounds like weed.

i need to move to a legal state lmao.

but in order to do that i gotta get better at programming so i can actually get a car (ya fucked up, bishop) and get a new place.

catch-22's are like so literally my favorite thing (:

anyway this isn't even the poem lmao i'm just sober ranting at the internet.

esskeetiiiiiit

there's this
black hole lingers
'round every corner.

obscure sounds
dark haze,
and no borders

it looms near,
strikes fear
when it's closer

heart runs,
hands shake,
i get colder.

/

sometimes
i get close
take a peek in

low growl
sounds loud
gotta feed it

audrey
she's hungry
when you're bleeding

jumped in-
to my blood
i'm her beacon

/

now i can't shake
this damned desire, god
i think i gotta call her

am i safer when she's
gone? she's in my dreams
do i still love her?

my best friend is
mad, the shit i do
only appalls her.

the pit, it's in my
stomach, god i
feel it getting stronger.

/

audrey

audrey

keep the peace, please.

audrey

audrey

play my heart strings.

you told me to

obey you baby,

you control me.

audrey

lay me

to rest in peace

bishop

(p.s. i noticed that there always seems to be a vote on my post like the second after i post my poetry shit. whoever you are you're cute af and i love you ok)

my head is aching,
day four in sobriety.
is it the drugs or every-
thing that runs about my dreams
all the people in my night-
mares never let me sleep.
my angry father, my old
lover, or my mother's screams.

i go to bed at noon
and i wake up at three.
no power left, make some coffee
just whatever's cheap.
folgers tastes like cigarettes,
a cup of apathy.
wanna sleep inside a noose
on a dramatic tree.*

eyes on gucci cus
they're catching bags
they're getting dark, like the
stones came, painted them black
i wanna move to where the dems are at.
to the palm trees and the medicine.

i fantasize about a booked flight,
goodbyes, and a packed bag.
fresh check, laptop,
in my backpack
new friends, new home,
and a black lab.
but that's all in the clouds
and my drugs are a jetpack.

but now i'm sober
and i'm jetlagged.
and now she's back
turning my dreams bad
woke up, aching head,
and a hurting back.
dig in my closet
for a white bag.

if i'm lucky it's a heart attack.

• this line isn't mine, wish it was though, i love how self-aware it is when it comes to the hyperdramatic bullshit i always write. would love to write some more stuff in this style.

oddly enough, it's from a game grumps episode of super mario galaxy lmao

maybe adding that and fixing the meter in these. i feel like the meter in my sober stuff is really jumpy - i can hear the different parts in my head but i don't think im piecing them together well.

have i ever done post-drunken poetry before?

i've got to be breaking some sort of rule with the amount i've been spamming this site over the last four hours.

I'm gonna go make breakfast and take a few days away to compensate.

sorry. thanks for listening.

much love

i woke up after
three hours of sleep
took a look around my room
and everything was tinted green
had a sobering reminder about
why i shouldn't drink
i get caught up in the moment
and try too hard not to think.

i'd do anything to go numb,
i'm afraid of that side of me.
it's hard, i hate myself
when in the middle of sobriety.
the room is tinted yellow as
the sunlight slips in quietly
i'm at a fork in the road,
man, i gotta choose carefully.

to the left a road of headaches,
heartache, a masochistic fantasy
take everything the hard way.
drunken, spinning memories
thinking of the good days,
accepting they're behind you
and your options won't change.
you're numb but somehow bitter
life is shorter, and it starts to fade.

off right a path of effort and torment,
pushing through the years of shit
that you drink just to forget.
the subtle kisses on your forehead
are bullets of a war chest
you're naked and afraid and
your perspective's all distorted
tryna shake your obsession with the morbid
it's been about a year since you last felt worth it.

and say you choose the better
of the two, here's the evil thing.
the second road is always there,
quiet, calm, and glistening.
internal scars and all the
hurt will start to dissipate
just share another secret,
close your eyes, and disintegrate

you're still quite young,
there's time to do the right thing.
maybe depression in aesthetic
isn't really worth you dying
and you won't find steady love
by telling everyone you're crying
that just attracts the broken, you
need something solid and inspiring
to all of you who noticed,
heard my wishes and my wailing

i'll switch to water, hope
that better starts prevailing

idgaf we going two in one day. ban me if my shit's annoying, just give me my posts first. 's all i ask.

i know a lot of the shit i write is blunt.

i know a lot of it is too straight-forward for people to be comfortable with.

i honestly don't care.

i don't write for them.

i write for my sanity.

i want my words to be your drug.

more drunken poetry.

god bless those who support. you keep me here. i'm glad you enjoy my works and i hope, at the very least, i help you find catharsis or explore a morbid curiosity into the lives of the damned.

i am here for you. i am an example.

from dust we're built,
and to ash we fall
wanna get so high, that
i can't move at all.
turns out her secret
was xan all along
i need some harder shit
just to push me along

never thought that love
was really a drug
that was just some dumb
shit they'd say in the songs
but now it's done, you're
gone, and i'm having withdrawals
i'm getting into drugs and
i'm carving my arms

and you couldn't give a fuck,
you never call
guess all of those years
didn't matter at all
all the shit we went through
can suffer the fall
so why am i even here,
or breathing at all.

had me in a trance, girl
i was under your spell
every command, on
my knees i knelt
really suicidal, that's the
hand i was dealt.
kiss me on my scars, i
think it's sexy as hell

the only thing that turns
me on - facades of real love
so if you're tryna lure me
in, give me a real hug.
pull me close, give a kiss,
that's the best drugs
need you to take the
breath out of my lungs

fuck. i want to die.

"i'd still blow my brains out just for you"

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of — Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or ever eagle flew —
And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
---By John Gillespie Magee Jr