Modern Lexicology

Let’s talk about loyalty,

Everyone’s favourite word nowadays.

What does this word loyalty mean,

When the connotation is completely changed

From being loyal to someone and shifted

To keep someone until their actions are in harmony

With your thoughts, actions and your perception of reality.

Your devotion has limits and if they slightly push back,

Even just a tiny step away then you are hurt, betrayed.

Where is the loyalty from your end?

Let’s talk about audacity,

Everyone’s favourtie expression!

When you try to take some time for yourself

And they feel so offended that you took some time off of them.

The entitlement of your time they have,

And claim you owe them every second – from the moment your eyes are open

Till the very second you press your tired onto the soft pillow.

The nerves you have to pull back for a bit

To keep yourself sane and complete,

Your time for yourself and no one else.

The audacity to stay away for your recharge,

The courage to fight again back.

…

But this is how the world operates today,

You are constantly in debt to all the Time consumers,

Energy vampires with appearance so innocent and pure.

They expect you to gift them with everything you have

Until they find a stronger kick somewhere else.

And once they find your replacement,

They withhold the precious title – the Ultimate Cure of their Imperfection! 

Modern Victims

 

Victimized by circumstances,

Begging for more pain,

Never to protect the soul and heart,

Keep bleeding over and over again.

The feeling of desperation,

Running though the veins,

The quick dopamine sensation,

And then drowning in the desperation.

….

Uncompromisable touches,

Bloody tears falling down the face…

Who is wrong and who is right?

Another game for two in a single player mode.

Who is to blame, when the agony is all we need,

And who is the victim when we all went insane.

…

Another night spent with someone unfamiliar,

Another quick fix for the adrenaline junkie,

Another day spent in self-destruction,

Who is the hunter and who is the prey?

We are so fucked up and yet we are okay,

We are so unstoppable and yet we cannot move a step.

…

Who is asking for a savior?

Who is the judge during our doomsday?

We are so beautifully insane,

Lack of sympathy is our mantra

- Psychopaths with sweet voices.

We are so dependent on the convenience,

Annihilation of ourselves is our way of expression.

The Villain era is the trend,

We don’t care if we stay the same.

…

Victimized by circumstances,

Begging for more pain,

Who care of the soul’s protection,

All we need is the sweet taste of the TORMENT!!!

Villain Era

 

Mistake after mistake, colder I grow,

Isolated by my own distrust and disbelieve,

Wrong judgement, wrong call,

Is my perception lacking?

Rerolling all the old tapes of cringe moments,

Torturing myself.

...

This life of movie black-and-white,

These series of bad scenes,

There is no writer nor director,

Improv went wrong:

-no notes, no feedback.

The stage is dark, the curtains fall

The room is silent, I am at fault?

If the comedy is not landing,

If the joke is misunderstood again

Am I the one to blame?

…

But the life is far from being some type of comedy,

Let’s get real – it is the tragedy of every soul

Is the loneliness of being authentic?

The irony of being honest,

Wearing all of who you are proudly on your sleeve.

And when they are done studying you;

The horror sets in motion –

Nightmare of the Genuine Soul

Being mocked, and kicked; forgotten, a backup plan;

The one who is always there when they are needed,

Tossed away when everything is fine.

…                                     

And after all the sadness comes the time of the psycho-thriller

Where you are the main villain with amazing arch

And all the stupid heroes try to make you pay

For what they have created, 

Blinded by the Main Character Complex of another's life.

And yes, I live in my Villain Era, why should I be ashamed?

When every action got its consequence,

And every hero follows stupid human path

Without realizing how their view is so fucked up.

…

Life is not a movie nor a stage piece to kill an hour or two.

Be careful when you write on someone else’s pages.

You are not as powerful narrator as you think,

You are a just temporary phase.  

Because someone is gracious

To let you have their spot light. 

The Art Of Being Reborn

 

Let’s create an art!

The life is mine, the words as well.

I use them to cut deep as if I hold razorblade,

I don’t care how many people left.

I can burn down every shaky bridge that I have created,

Safety first, I need to feel secure when walking on my path.

Let me create!

The life is mine, the paintings as well!

I don’t pose with fake smiles in front of those I abandoned,

I don’t need blind followers, they are unreliable, just a burden.

What is wrong with me, you might ask.

Why I am so defensive, so hard to read.

I have been called ungrateful so many times

That my attitude is now a gray zone – nothing is morally right or wrong.

I can do what pleases me - 

If you can't handle it, call it even and proceed.

Unlike those missing from my circles, I value my time.

I need my brain stimulated, my heart thrilled, my voice heard.

Who cares about the years spent – the price is paid, no way back.

…

So let me burn and destroy,

Let me flood and annihilate!

Let me see the ashes left from my inner raging fire,

Let me see the mud covering this place after the merciless flood

Of my unleashed emotions – call me psychopath.

And let me tell you how good it feels when the pain you endure

Is inflicted by your own decisions and failures, your own choices,

Not placed upon you by those who tried to suppress you 

In fear they might lose control. - Surprise, they lost!

Only the strongest will survive! 

Then why I should carry the weakest on my shoulders?

And the moment it gets real hard, they run away leaving me fading.

…

And in the end when all the stories are written down,

And all the songs are sang with petrifying voices,

And all the gruesome paintings are on the huge display,

And all of you are provoked to find yourselves in my creations,

Then I can finally shall rise from the ashes of my conscience,

Like a phoenix - I shall roam the skies, fly freely.

And until the cycle is repeated over and over again

-Fly phoenix, fly my little monster – high up in the endless sky.

There Is Beauty In The Duality

 

In the middle of the endless night I sit forgotten,

Never imagined my life as a wreck,

Never imagined to feel like I am a failure.

And yet here I am, doubting everything I am,

Question myself if I am still me.

Deconstructing my beliefs, my thoughts, my taste,

My likes and dislikes as if I am a puzzle,

I start anew building up myself with better walls this time.

After every fall is harder to be close to what I used to know.

I am getting better as a builder – these walls are pure perfection.

…

It all fell down – the innocence is long gone, the eyes are sparking with the devil’s flame.

The reflection in the mirror looks like me but she is no more.

…

She is no longer like the sun shining bright for all those who are close to me.

She is more like the moon – shines enough to show the way and yet nothing is fully revealed.

She is no longer peaceful like the small river, trying to find her way to the sea.

She is a full blown sea storm ready to sink the ship regardless the cost.

She is no longer the soft wind which caresses someone’s cheek.

She is a tornado ready to crumble every house on her way.

She is no longer happy or angry, she is no longer mad or disappointed.

She no longer feels, she doesn’t care who walks out of her life – she is self-sufficient.

She can easily cut you out just because she pleases if your presence is not a contribution to her life.

She is She-Wolf – walking thorny paths alone;

She is She-Demon – torturing them with her silence; never gives explanation.

…

She is me – sometimes I feel her distant; sometimes she is next to me.

Loneliness doesn’t bother me, I can remain silent forever.

The reflection in the mirror shows my face but my soul is not the same.

Sometimes I miss her, the child I was, the hope I had, the dreams I dreamt.

But now I am different, my old desires are gone.

Cold hearted, calculating, emotionless and even cruel,

I can safely use them to describe me – I can finally adopt the words said about me.

This time is not the mark of disgrace they try to enforce on me.

These are medals of honor for the battles I have survived.

Sometimes the only way to battle all your demons is to embrace them

And make the Hell you are going through your comfortable home.

…

She is me and I am her – Ying and Yang of one’s soul.

Gentle or cruel – it’s you who picks the side you meet!

The Familiar Game of Chess

 

Welcome to my paradise full of pain and deception.

I have created it for you just to feel as if you are home.

Look around the green grass full of painful memories

That you have left and then disappeared.

Look at the river of salty tears,

Those I shed when you kept repeating the same mistakes

Thinking I will never notice, I am not blind.

Take a look around, it’s all you like – a peaceful land.

The trees are made of the lies you have told me

And made me believe they were reality which awaits me.

No need to thank me, I am learning from the best.

Take your morning walk on the pavement built from all the emotions

You made me feel – this is the reason why the road is so bumpy.

You have made me think that I am the one at fault.

Could it be more cruel?

---

Now welcome to my hell full of truths and fallen masks.

This is how my home looks like – ugly and unpredictable

Just like you made me feel.

I have come to take your soul back to where it is supposed to be,

Reliving all you did to me, this time you are on the burning chair.

I can watch how I break your heart to little pieces,

I can suck all the liveliness from your soul.

And then I will shamefully try to make it as if it is okay to suffer.

All in reverse – I torture you and you stay silent trying to understand

What you have done this time or I am the insane.

These mind games are fun, I didn’t realize it back then.

Hell or heaven, different points of view.

Some people feed on smiles, others on tears.

Who is the predator and who is the prey?

---

Love is a game of chess; we are the figures on the black-and-white board.

Every move is important – you either win or lose.

Until you learn how to play it, don’t think of getting any trophy.

Every loss costs a piece of you, being damaged is the aim.

Every win costs a piece of your sanity 

– good or bad, the outcome is the same.

You are either hero or a villain, no in-between.

It’s up to us if we want to break it even - no damage done

Or keep playing to feel the bizarre pleasure of being hurt.

…

And now you know why I am so out of my mind,

I am not the sweet sunshine, devil in disguise.

I have paid the price of being the losing side,

I have enjoyed the pain, I have nothing left to gain.

Shame, fear, tears, broken soul – it’s all in the past.

Let me show you the other side of me

Where I am the winner and you are the one in agony.

The Three Circles of Shame

 

Have you ever felt drained from all the mundane tasks?

Have you ever felt the torment of your existence?

Have you ever felt the same even after deadly storms and beautiful disasters?

Have you ever felt insane just by looking at your reflection in the dirty mirror?

Have you ever felt abandoned even if you are surrounded by your people?

Have you ever felt the cold touch of some invisible hand?

Have you ever felt that your brain is at the verge of its rational resistance?

Have you felt alone walking though the thorny road in search of answers

If you were broken-born or you are a product of the damaged ones?

---

Have you ever noticed the first sign – the isolation is your power,

Pushing everyone aside, making them feel worthless, useless?

Have you ever felt the joy of feeling annihilated, shattered, damaged

And with a smile on your face accepting that you are wicked?

Have you ever noticed the second sign – the pain doesn’t kill you,

What is dead cannot be killed or resurrected, a shameful sin?

But you are not bothered how you are the odd one in the crowd of copy-paste,

You don’t mind to stand tall while the others are falling.

Have you ever noticed the third sign – you don’t care if the world crumbles beneath your feet,

You are ready to face the Death – not like an enemy, more like a friend?

Have you ever felt like the villain of your own story?

No, you are not creature of unsound mind, you promised yourself never again.

…

Three signs, three oddities – these are part of us all.

What does it mean you are whole?

Three traits of disturbed soul, overburdened from all loss and gain

Throughout a lifetime of impossible expectations, a lifetime full of pain.

Three characteristics dark, hidden in the depths of every soul.

Some hide them, some express them with a heart full of pride and joy!

The Castles

 

On this beautiful piece of land, I have built the stone castle to protect my soul

Not to be robbed nor attacked from ill intentions at every possible moment.

It's not impossible to enter, but I will never give the key or share the main road.

Are you ready to enter? Do you dare to accept this challenge?

I have created those breathtaking murals inside these walls

Just to share a piece of myself with myself only.

You can call it art, if you are brave enough, but it's private, just like the real me.

The caste and the mirror, the fairy tale of Snow White in the modern age.

But instead of evil witch and pure maiden, the plot twist is that they both are me.

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who will hurt me the most of them all?

No happy end, I am the creator almighty, the narrator with sweet voice.

This story is over, let's move on the next.

…..

High, high up in the bright blue sky; I have built the glass castle.

So transparent, so light like my soul – free-spirited, gentle, carefree.

You need to climb the slippery glassy stairs, an abject attempt to reach me.

I cannot be touched so easily; I have seen the ugliness of the land.

The second home I have created for those who manage to get

Through the roughness of my character, for those who accept my sharp tongue.

But don’t think this route is not that dangerous, I made it full of obstacles.

This is to protect the softness of my spirit, I want me to roam free

Where I am bound to nothing, just like a flying bird

I can see the world from different perspective.

But the story of black swan is a tragic one as well, don’t get carried away.

Who said my aim is the so desired happy-ending?

…

In the end, with my last last drops of will powers, I have built the sand castle.

It is near the deep, deep sea, always in fear of get buried beneath

The huge waves of emotional damage and distress.

This one is not a piece of art like the other two.

This one is made from every tear, shattered dream, broken promise,

Loss and awfully painful memories.

This one is my reminder to my future self how fragile a human being is

When the storm comes from all the hidden horizons, beyond the sea line.

The shoreline is my grave place, no tombstones, no crosses, no marks.

We are born alone and alone we die in the comfort of our homes,

Before the mirror on the wall, with head bend; filled with shame.

The truth is ugly, I lost most of my battles - 

Constant wars between the sanity of my mind and the craziness of my heart.

One shall always prevail upon the other and causes all the doubts and pain.

And when the lifetime is about the end,

I just need to be sure I haven’t lived in vain…

…

Three castles, three complex personalities, constantly competing 

Which one is on charge, with “best interest” agenda.

Inner fight for survival between the strength of the human body, the fragile mind and reappearing consciousness,

The struggle of self-acceptance and self-love.

The Swansong For the Forelorn

 

Many, many moons ago I devoted you all I had

With a simple promise of new light, new happiness, new life.

But the darkness fell upon us with a single blast

With the unfaithful pleasure, with the pure lust.

In the middle of fake joy and passion, I got lost,

You could say I was completely blind.

Many, many moons ago I decided with a heavy heart

That it all was my fault, it was my demise.

But I refused to believe how a person can pretend

For so long unnoticed as if I was the only one playing this sad tango.

With all of my pure intentions, I believed that one can change…

All they need was to love them harder,

As if I breathe for two not one, as if I dream for two, as if it was enough.

…

Many, many moons ago I have granted the permission

To someone so beloved and he destroyed me.

And I hated how that person made me feel, how unwanted I was.

Many, many moons ago my joyful self was stained with shame

And turned down the flame of the cheerful being!

Drowned in sorrow,

Poisoned with lies,

Completely forlorn,

Left in pain...

…

Now many moons and suns have passed,

My soul has changed.

Now the light is gone for good,

I have turned it into a blackness,

Demons roam around my soul,

They called it eternal pleasure house,

My hell has turned into a comfy home,

No one else tortures, I command.

No angels are allowed, it’s an emotional desert.

And curses are my poetry of long forgotten love,

There is no desire to turn it back to what is used to be.

Let me bring back your nightmares as you have helpfully done to me.

…

Don’t say you feel sorry, emotions like this are like a weed for your well-being.

Don’t say you feel sorry, because we both know you are not.

In the end what used to be my weakness is now your eternal hell.

I can dance on your feelings like a feather lost its course

But in the end, I am the one winning the stupid love game.

I see through your deception as if I have made it for you

Now your strengths are your weaknesses 

And I am the one who call the quit.