Intoxicated by Guilt

 

Lost underneath the veil of darkness,

Drunk from sorrow bottled up for ages inside me,

Fated in loneliness,

Guilty of losing what I cherished most.

I longed for being someone else’s anchor in the stormy sea,

I longed for being someone else’s fundament,

I longed for being someone else’s morning or solace,

I longed for being someone else’s sun in a cloudy day.

…

Yet the dawn was never mine, the sunset is kissing the tired eyes

I scream under the moonlight like a hurt wolf.

She drives me crazy, calling silently my name,

She forces me to give up my dreams and follow the pack instinct,

Compelling me to turn into wild animal – unleashed.

…

Lost underneath the veil of the darkness I am still drunk,

Eyes lying me as if the morning will ever come,

Fight my battles – yet alone,

I am so wasted, unable to connect,

Fulfilling foreign dreams in not for me

Even though I wished to be drained from the rain of beloved laughter.

…

Lost underneath the veil of the darkness I am insanely intoxicated,

Still unable to sober up.

But it’s not the alcohol circulating in my blood stream like an oil in the old machine,

It’s the guilt eating me alive, like a ghost my mistakes haunt me,

Wrong decisions made when I was young.

My intoxication took control and buried me beneath the locked emotions,

My consciousness refuses to acknowledge the growth I’ve had – eternal punishment.

…

Lost underneath the veil of the darkness I am ultimately juiced,

A drunkhead with no hopes and dreams,

The liquid courage now poisoned me - weakness, unforgiven sins.

I refuse to become clear-headed, this world was never meant to me,

I prefer to dim my light, be invisible, an outcast, cold-hearted.

And yet the numbness starts fade away, I am not ready to face myself -

I just need another glass.

The Sound of My Undoing

Reflection unknown is looking at me through the mirror –

Half lively, half dead.

Is this what I have become?

Life transferred from someone else – not mine.

I bent my head, neck arched like a black swan,

Still unfamiliar with the staring gaze –

Is this the best of what I can?

I have completely forgotten my mission in life,

I have suppressed my desires for someone.

Why did I make that fatal choice?

Was it worth the sacrifices when I am unrecognizable?

I keep staring at the mirror – so unsurprisingly distant.

I can’t remember which decision turned me into that stone.

What have I done?

…

Eyes empty – sparkles lost ages ago,

I kept lying to myself that everything will be fine.

Mouth shut – voice stolen no one knows when

When my opinion stopped being cherished,

I chose silence instead of the scream I wanted to let loose.

I keep looking this face – ghost pale, looks like death.

Why did I settle on life which was never meant for me?

I see eyes soulless – as empty as barren ground

A reflection of life lived wrong.

I lost the sharpness of the mind once I had,

I keep looking but something is missing – my spirit is gone.

My soul turned into ashes spread through the world once bright,

Desires buried beneath the blanket of fear that I can never make it,

Venomous whispers of “friends” held dear, now empty chairs on my table called life.

I keep seeking, I keep trying to remember – still nothing,

What is wrong with me?

…

Finally, I broke the silent song of my undoing with the painful scream of my rebirth,

The mirror shattered and in every little piece I start to see me again.

Fragments of my soul is shinning through the looking glass on the floor beneath my feet.

Each cut on my hand a reminder – I have sacrificed enough

The ghost in front of me is no longer mine, I will keep it in the past.

I will blur it, I can breathe at last.

I have gathered the broken pieces of my soul when all was said and done,

Free of whispers and fears installed in me by their projections,

I let the pain of losing myself engulf me,

In the end I can start over – no one is putting their shapes onto me.

My song will be angry in sounds, destruction in my lyrics,

And ugly truth in every note I sing.

Let the water in my voice drawn what once confined me

And from the ruins of my silence to be once more whole.

 

For Those Who Remain

Raise your glass to the Seeker, the curious one

Always looking for new adventures to spice up their existence

With unquenching thirst for new sensations

Never leaves stones unturned until the curiosity lives within.

Raise your glass to the Risk-taker,

The one who is brave to face fears and manages to win.

Even they lose the passion burns unstoppably until they prove themselves right or wrong.

Chasing the thrill of the unknown until their last breath goes out of their lungs.

Raise your glass to the Believer, the one who has undying faith even when the days are darker,

Even when the nights are cold, they keep going.

No matter how hopeless is the situation they’ve learnt to keep believing

As long as they stay true what their heart dictates them – ultimate belief in higher powers,

Confidence unmeasurable, strong will.

Raise your glass to the Builder – the one who is not afraid to turn the ashes into lush gardens,

The one skilled with hands and manner, language and presence.

The one taking the most impossible projects turning them from dreams into reality.

The one who is not afraid from the dirt on their hands, from the filth in their minds

As long as they keep creating what they deem worthy of developing.

Raise your glass to the Truth-finder – the one who never lives into the mist of what the others think is appropriate.

Their hunger for truth keeps them going into the vastness of the untold,

Their passion for transparency moves them to the boundlessness of what was never revealed.

Their longing for uncovering what lays hidden is dangerous yet captivating to be followed –

Like a play in the theater masks are falling – ugly truths on display, angry mobs tailing.

Their courage is tremendous, deserving recognition in the fake world we are currently live in.

Raise your glass to the Thriver – the one who stands still even through the harshest storms,

The one who turns each scar into a valuable lesson,

Making each loss into an art of who be reborn stronger than before.

The one who never claims they are broken even though every pain paints on their mind and body.

They do not seek for easiness but seek the deeper meaning

And in every ending they still manage to find a chance be better.

Their compass is called hope, the resilience is their form of art

And in silence they sing the song of patience.

They dance together with the chaos, maniacally laughing at the uneven odds,

They knowing endurance can make them last this long.

…

And with this poem my trilogy of remembrance of those who stay hidden comes to an end.

It was my pleasure to shed a light on all of you who are often left unspoken

As if your stories do not worth telling.

I raise the glass to those I may have forgotten, it was never meant to be.

I salute your strongest features, being true to yourselves in world where noise is the currency of choice.

May your inner strength quietly echo longer than the loudest pretenders try do.

To the unseen, the loyal, the unapologetically real – my final toast is to you. 

 

The Drifter

 

I am walking the streets once familiar,

Filled with cherished memories

Now I feel them faded, barely existing in my head.

I loved those cobblestones streets,

Now so indifferent to me – foreign under my steps.

Once I dreamt of living there till my walk on this world comes to an end,

Now I feel nothing – mo magic, no happiness, no belonging.

You are so ancient yet so alien – I don’t see myself spending a day more here.

…

Unlike you I am changed,

You are so unmoved, yet I keep going.

The same bells disrupting the silence every Sunday at 7 am,

Same cold winter wind sings its songs every morning from October to December.

I tried to belong to you, I felt you crawling under my skin

Desperate to find my place under the sun, yet I was mistaken.

I carved my name into your vast history,

Yet I will stay unknown like an ancient concubine into the emperor’s harem.

Fourteen years yet I feel like I am visiting you,

Even though I know every path ant turn by heart,

My shadow engraved into the pavements as if I am part of you,

A stranger to a place I once called home,

The lights from the windows don’t feel warm.

All those benches are sitting next to the river,

I meet with friends in those cafes, yet the same places do not bring more familiarity.

…

I speak your language but my soul is not one with yours

My roots cannot live here, nor anywhere else – I am visitor wherever I go.

You keep your rhythm so slow paced,

My heart dances under the melody of different drums.

Your silences weigh on my heart like a boulder,

My light doesn’t shine with your intensity.

Your stillness cannot stop the movements I have been craving lately.

I hoped for understating and a happy life –

This nativity slipped through your cracks like the water spills from my hands.

You leave me shapeless, lost and forgotten between the names you love more.

The more I stay here, the more I drift into your limbo,

Caught between fake belonging and honest departure -

A familiar stranger walking the historical streets which never called my name.

…

I hoped the time I spent there will make you mine

But it only showed me how wrong I am – no match for these narrow passages.

You will outlast me, standing still from ancient times till now.

And I am receding – a name that never settled,

A story which I left unclaimed.

Your Ruin I Withdraw

 

Oh my god, it’s you again, little princess I must say no.

I have finally escaped your grip, your lips don’t shackle my neck,

The mist I spread is no longer in me, I can finally breathe freely,

The lack of your voice is so calming – silence is what I desire most.

I hope my fingertips have faded from your skin, replace them with ink.

The tattoo therapy will heal you over time.

I refuse to reach the phone when your name shines on the display,

I don’t want to hear your desperation,

I have no urge to spend one more night with you.

I will break this cycle – your shadows cannot reach me, you are not the ghost haunting me.

I no longer grave your taste – once sweet now bitter – you are no longer the poison I beg for every day.

My thoughts have finally belonged to me, you are the dim silhouette I cannot recognize.

I am no longer the potter, the clay touching my hands drives me insane – so dirty, so rugged.

I prefer to be painter in the studio with the canvas empty, ready to be filled in colours of my liking.

Your voice - once melody on repeat when my ADHD kicks in – now just chaotic sounds lacking any meaning to me,

My resilience is built up, unshaken – I stand unmoved by your pleas,

I have successfully claimed myself for me.

…

Little princess, I won’t visit you one more night,

Your scent no longer enchants me, I am sharp and at last I am awake.

I love the control I have gained when your absent, my freedom means the world to me.

I love the discipline I enforced on me, I love to stay in my lane – my peace is my order.

I no longer follow foreign desires, I don’t need you pain to feel alive.

When your chaos met my calmness last time I have finally realized

My end is near every time I am with you.

Little princess, your spells and magic no longer tempt me to enter your bed.

The broken promises between us are no longer trap me in a chokehold,

The knots once tied hard are now threads undone by my bare hands.

You and I once disaster – now I refuse to participate in this annihilation.

My firm boundaries will now protect me, I will unlearn you day by day in a steady pace.

You and I – no longer lyrics I wish to whisper on my mouth

We are not art born from passion and pain.

The healed wounds will remain old scars I don’t want to reopen for you again.

We are not seen as outlaws – I have no claim over your destructive tendencies.

My body declines your offer, I no longer laugh in ache.

And with a small effort I erase those moments spent with you,

Little princess, I chose the peace of mind over your chaotic love.

Ultimately, the normality you hate is what I seek most.

The last time you pulled me closer I felt so alien to myself,

Now I finally can feel what I am made of.

Take your sweet tea, I refuse to drink this anymore.

I am no longer drink my coffee with milk, I prefer to taste the bitterness over tour fake sweetness.

You and I together – fragments of different worlds but apart I can feel the wholeness in my heart.

I hope the last wound to heal, scar to fade and this play to stay forgotten.

No more movies black-and-white, no more endless chaos – I chose to move forward;

No more push and pull – this game is no longer on sale – in the end I am me.

…

Little princes, I hope you eventually understand

I won’t reach for you in the morning, I love the emptiness in my bed.

I don’t need your kisses, I don’t fear the dullness of the grey.

No echo of your begging remains in my head – I won’t ask to meet you.

I vowed to quit you and managed to keep my promise,

Even my skin is silent when I say your name out loud.

No shivers run though my spine when I recall your soft whisper.

I am no longer hungry for your shame and pain.

It was never love, never meant to be – illusion of a cozy fire more like hellish flames.

I am no longer drawn to you, I walked away happy in the coldness.

I won’t burn above your body, your touch lost its control.

There is no countdown, the danger is long gone -

Finally, I am whole again!!!

The Ruin I Chase

 

I still feel you next to me, your breath like a suffocating hug dances around my neck.

Your presence lingers in the air of my room, so smothering,

Your fingertips still burn the skin even though you are just a light mist.

I still cannot resist the urge to call you, to have you one more night.

You are my demise - the curse which keeps coming when I think I am healed.

Your addictive taste leaves me weak for days, I am going so insane

I can’t keep my mind occupied with clear thoughts.

I love how you mold me underneath you like how a potter shapes the clay to vase.

I am lost in your lips as if I am swimming in the ocean, sinking deeper.

Your voice is like a siren song to me, my resistance is pointless,

I have given up on me.

…

Let me have you one more time,

Poisoned from your scent I lose all the instincts for survival.

I love how primal I am with you, free from all the rules I try to keep,

I don’t like to stay in those lines, obedient, follower of the order.

When my demon meets your the real magic begins,

Two souls condemned, spellcasting in the darkness of the night,

Songs so loud, screams of promised evil seen as sinful yet so fulfilling those basic needs.

The knots of broken promises between us tied so strongly, entwined in one.

You and I together – a recipe for disaster, so dangerously playing the forbidden games.

No healthy boundaries between us, every rule to keep me safe is so easily unlearned.

You and I – synchronically creating art of passion and hurt,

Wounds so deep, impossible to cure, repeated scars, marks of stolen happiness.

We are treated as criminals – bold and unhinged in every aspect,

Our bodies laugh at the damage we inflict when we are together,

We cannot erase those moments; we are extremely toxic – normality is not for us.

Every time you pull me closer I feel the need to feel small and weak,

Like how the sugar dissolves into the hot tea – the smallest particles of me remain unchanged.

I am the milk to your coffee – making the bitter flavor bearable on the tip of your tongue.

You and I – so damaged yet together so complete,

I hope these traumas never heal – this play never gets too old.

Like a movie black-and-white, we are so classic – textbook emotionally unstable,

Push and pull, anxious avoidant – yet we manage to exist.

…

I still try to touch you in the morning even though you never stay the night

Looking for the sweetness of your mouth, I need this quick fix to survive another grey day,

Like a distant echo I still hear my words to have you one more time.

I keep promising myself I can quit you, yet my skin screams for you.

My body still shivers every time I remember your whisper in my ears.

I keep wonder if this hunger will ever be satisfied or it is just the thrill of you and I never be right for each other.

I keep being drawn to you like a moth into the flame knowing very well that

If I keep playing with your fire, I will burn down into ashes every minute,

Countdown so unpredictable, impossible to keep on track - 

Never to be whole again.

 

An Ode for the Troubled

 

Raise your glass to the anxious one,

The one who battles their silence

Aching to participate in the conversations

But always keeping their words to themselves.

The one who dreads every change in the winds,

The one who never feels complete,

The one who struggles to express what bothers them,

The one ready to endure instead of facing the demons ahead.

Raise your glass to the people-pleaser,

The one who feels small every time they try to explain what is in their mind,

The one who is always scared to draw the line,

The one who always feels unloved if they don’t serve,

The one who is always drained from the people they love,

The one who is never valued for what they are.

Raise your glass to the second best,

The one who is always there when the main friend is somewhere else,

The replacement with the good advice,

The one always happy to help yet often left on read.

The one who cherish the wrong crowd,

The one who is deafen when they try to take control,

The one who is never included when the plan is made.

Raise your glass to the second-guesser,

The who always doubt what choice should they take,

The one who never knows what is to take control,

The one who troubles with a firm stand,

The one who fears the consequences,

The one who is fighting with themselves yet unable to win the match,

The one willing to watch from the side lines.

Raise your glass to the fatalist,

The one who made peace with what is about to come,

The one whose battles are always lost,

The one unwilling to take the blame for what when wrong.

The one who is secretly scared if they take the reins and wind by chance,

The one who never learnt accountability when not deciding what to do

Is actually a choice – the worst of them all.

Raise your class for the mind-racer,

The one who craves control yet unable to put his mind on a simple task.

The one whose coping mechanism is the unvoluntary switch of thoughts,

The one who never felt what stability means,

The one who survives on short-term ideas often left incomplete.

The one who is often overwhelmed yet lacks the tools to center their inner monologue.

The one who has never taught how to process their surroundings,

The one whose mental clutter rival the absence of the mind.

The one who always feel the world is always falling behind,

The restless one who craves to stop at last.

…

Raise your glass to the many troubled never mentioned in the lines above,

I might write about you in the future poems.

I want to tell you - you are not alone, always forgotten, left in the footer note.

I salute your endurance often unnoticed by the normal ones,

You are not undeserving – you are simply different, not hard to love.

You have hidden resilience; your brain is knitted with the darker yarns.

Be proud of who you are and if the life feels hard in the darkness of the night

Ask for help, don’t be shy.

Your efforts always lurk in the shadows - never spoken, never shared.

There is my second ode for the outlander of the nous,

I feel your pain; I sense your presence – you and I are so alike in many ways.

Toast to the Invisible

 

Raise your glass to the perfectionist,

The one who plays with the chaos surrounding his thoughts,

The one who tries to navigate the unpredictability

With the precise calculation of when and what to do.

Raise your glass to the overthinker,

The one who needs to reply every conversation to the smallest detail,

Endless monologue with possibilities in his head.

The one who still cringes at night for moment happened when they were only 10,

The one who will solve every problem with fading smile.

Raise your glass to the dreamer,

The one who escapes reality with such an ease,

The one who make the fantasy into reality,

The one who is not afraid of the unknown,

The one carrying the clouds as crawn,

The one who shapes their world while they sleep.

Raise your glass to the worrier,

The one who attracts the scariest storms inside their head,

The one who map their future out,

The one who never enjoys the smallest joy,

The one who always bears hurricanes in their eyes.

Raise your glass to the insomniac,

The one who never knows the rest,

The one who fights the darkest hours in the bed alone,

The one who still trying to hold on to the slipping sanity,

The one who promised to take the magic pill

And yet is unable to find their will.

Raise your glass to the observer,

The often left unseen,

The one who struggles with the unprocessed feelings,

The ready to fight when they feel the danger,

The one unable to prevent the patterns,

The one circling in never-ending shame.

And last but not least, raise your glass to the survivor,

The one burnt in thousand flames,

The one drowned in hundred floods,

The one who never stops moving

Even when the situation feels like a dead-end.

The one who chooses to trust even though they are wounded to the core,

The who not only saves themselves, but saves us all.

The Cycle of the Flesh

 

“On a crossroad I stand in the middle of the night
To keep walking the lonely walk or to burn like a candle one more time.”

…

These lessons I am never going to learn,

I am crawling back for more – this feeling of undoing me

Like a drug is running through my veins,

I cannot get you out of my system – you are endless.

I swore I am done; I needed to pull myself back from your trap

And yet my body got a mind of its own – my worst enemy.

One of those special gazes and every little sense I had is stripped away.

One smile and I am running back you – I beg you for one last time.

When it comes to you, all I have is self-destruction, so feral in my desire

To be tamed by the coldness of your hands - you mold me like a clay.

Every whisper of my name is like a sweet melody - so hypnotic – tear me down, I don’t mind.

You are my weakness; you are the curse I cannot escape.

Tear my spirit like you tore the clothes on me – I don’t look for reasons to stay away,

Your bitterness wakes those nasty desires one by one.

With the burning touch of your fingers I sing our song,

I am not a predator; I have turned into the prey.

These visits are not for love; they are dressed in sins;

This hunger overpowers every sane thought,

This taste is all I think every night I spent with myself

And I am giving in repeatedly, no excuses left.

…

You claim you can withstand this yearning

Yet you run toward me like I am going to escape,

Broken and ruined, united as one.

Your grip says it all – you call it devotion; I call it emotional havoc.

Succumb to the darkness hidden deep within.

…

This inner betrayals won’t stop until we are exhausted,

Until the vail of the night swallows us whole.

I need us to stay like this – no one touches my mind the way you do

Quitting you feels like dying – cannot overcome this withdrawal again.

…

And here we are on the same crossroad, step back from the progress we have made.

We vowed it was for the last time, blind to this usual lie.

We cannot live without our love scars – we cannot flee unscaved.

We know we are each other’s ending- yet we are attracted to what we create when no one is around.

One is born sinner; the other is turned to one – we survive on each other’s flavour.

Why we are so seduced by our venomous dance?

And yet every time each of us leave scarred and damaged to the core.

What is this unconventional game – we bleed from our greedy cravings.

Stubbornly, tomorrow we will return for another round,

We are so helpless when our bodies got language of their own.

The life comes in cycles and we feed the worst of them – the one who destroys us the most

Yet it is the only chaos our demons call home.