Stale Tea

The stale tea stagnating next to the breathing corpse no longer warmed the scene with its rising steam; the life giving warmth expired with its maker as the slovenly body looked mindlessly at the fractured glass of that gloomily echoing picture from a time when colour once snaked it’s betrayal spreading tendrils around the expressive soul, now crushed and corrupted into the lifeless hulk of flesh pouring cold tea down the reddened drain.

The putrid brown liquid splashed messily across the idle cast blade in the sink, it’s red stain blending with the putrid brown to form an even more off colour that brought a coldly bleak smile flashing across the face of its user, whose arms still slightly bled from the evening’s mandatory session of provoking feeling of some kind.

A sigh left the now blank face as the smile’s lingering presence joined all those other extinguished signs of life, each drop of blood lost a bitter repeat of something more reliable than that betrayal soaked sensation called love long since expired.

The mindless repeating ringing tone from the other room as some honestly concerned former friend feels the need to intervene, merely provoking a damningly blank nothing in terms of wanting to have to placate and reassure them that the walking corpse was ‘ok’ and suffer an agonizing rendition of the merrily infested soul talking about their happy family and asking ‘why don’t you come to visit’.

Each jaggedly marking cut ever uglier than the last violently fitful set of marks but as the last set, now reddened uneven lines in flesh fading as those before, no redeeming feeling is felt as memories of pain forcefully resurge to remind him of how it should feel as reality betrays even that attempt at knowing the once sacred sensation of possessing a sensitivity to pain.

A slowly dragging foot resistant to moving precedes anther dragging foot in the direction of an open window from which a putrid mix of cigarette smoke interweaves with the scent of stale sex and weed, an alarmingly more putrid soundscape of cat calls and violence echoing from the street below further strangles the hope of happiness with the disgusting air infesting the room.

Having forced the ill fitting window pane to shut followed by more resistant dragging of feet to the stained and marked kitchen, another cup of tea brewing as he tries to think of that illusively evasive logic of why to continue.

A briefly distracting reprieve from the demoralizing task of listing all the reasons to leave the even more demoralizing experience of living, each depressingly constructed line a step closer to the evening that the blade cuts too deep as the heavily corrupted thought hits with guiltless amusement ‘at least it won’t be me having to pour away this cup of cold tea’ followed grimly by the again guilt free amusing thought ‘should anyone notice I’m missing’.

 

Games won; Nothing gained

I have a kingdom built on the ashes of happiness

Run at its darkened core by a heartless void of pain and lose

With only the burning rivers of my rage

To keep the fires of hope burning into the endless night

And through all this a hollow will to survive by my side

 

“Empty halls of hollow victories to spell a life lived in service

The lacking hand in yours an indicative sign you won the game

But in playing you never discovered a reason to want to win

Left with hollow victories with no worth littering empty halls”

 

The sin of loves inflicted curse

To know the finer pain of life’s cruellest taunt

Is to lose the ability to smile, the freedom to feel

For fear of what it reveals and implies to others

Those who could be hurt or offended by a simple truth

As harmless at its core as a mere suggestive thought

That for the sake of others

To the detriment to your soul

You bury and ignore

The lonely price of protecting yourself and others

From the unwanted fallout of life’s cruellest taunt

 

A Poisons Recourse

A poison cannot help that it causes harm to others

Just as a flower has no control over what colour it blooms

But it can choose whether to willing harm another

Or limit the damage it could cause

And the day it finds someone immune to its effects

They will have that much more to imbibe and enjoy

 

Pets for anti-social people

 

The dog walked itself to an animal shelter in a huff, animal welfare officers on your door having survived the viper’s nest of intertwined vines and exotic man eating plants miscellaneously acquired through the wilful abandonment of any sort of lawn care.

The cat just complained you were too cold and merciless, the local animal population having branded the feline in question as the most maliciously cold creature to exist a fitting epitaph for your own personality.

Why did the chicken cross the overly dangerous motorway at rush hour; it was a crap load safer and less hazardous than been anywhere near you!

The slave that made Cinderella’s life look as royalty; didn’t even report you to the police after escaping because they purely loathed having to forcible put anyone else through the torturously painful experience of sharing a room with you.

Now you are left with ‘it’; that thing that perfectly defines anti-social in every jagged barb protruding from its skin with intended malice in the relished pain forcefully endured when you have to move it, a gift from an ex that in morgue like foretelling that spelled the misery soaked future you now willingly drown in with ‘it’ by your side.

Defining your longest term relationship damningly with how long that wretched green entity has survived the almost cruelty defining lack of care you less than lavish it with, a singular spec of liquid callously poured on it once in a memory flash that you need to actually feed it.

Relationships come and fatally crumble into descending hell, friendships left on the other side of bridges that daredevil suicide applicants won’t step upon even and co-workers milling aimlessly around falsely projected illusions fade out and leave, but that thing you still drag around stands, surviving and staring.

The Cactus you lovingly ignore, the companion that viciously rivals ever anti-social instinct ingrained in the naturally occurring offence you laughingly cause the world around you, notwithstanding the point that you personally treat it with more worth than a family member when forced to transport it to a new prison cell/home/abode!

When your last girlfriend jokingly said “Would you get rid of the Cactus for me”, you’ve never seen offence so quickly produce a violent exit upon pointing out the green bar steward would outlive you and her!

The only pet perfectly crafted in the deviant depths of hell for societies miscreants like you…

All hail the Cacti, Mother Nature’s reflection of all that is wrong with creations like you!

 

Too good to waste! (might be a repeat)

An old dating profile; shock reveal… I’m still single!!

I’ll take my humour black please Bob!!

The attempt at a human you are trying to reach has laid his relationship hopes six feet under, from where he dredged them up in the first place!

If you wish to perform necromancy and message him I’m sure some attempt at a heartbeat might resurrect him

If not, just leave a black rose at the grave and observe a few seconds respectful silence

The person with a sense of humour and wit dark enough to throw a witty quip back at me, having just read that, I’ll marry you on sight!!

Understanding the practical applications of anti-social mentality and reasoning, no offence intended!!

Classification of lifeforms by anti-social standards:

(Worse to best)

Human; an ineffectual sub variation of life that holds the sole prize of been more stupid and ineffective than a dead flea that won idiot of the year in Idiotville, undefeated in its short and pointless exsistance, which was still less pointless than a humans reason to exist

A Person; someone with a grasp of humanity who is not limited and interlectually challenged by means of having displayed a good to high level of ability, therefore worthy of respect

A Notable Person; someone who demonstrates the guts, gumption and balls (not literally in case of females unless a human male has given reason to make them remove his and use them as car dice!) with both brains and a grasp of humanity to earn high levels of respect, worthy of been forgiven occasional mistakes as they occur in number far less than a ‘human’

‘I give a damn about you’; A notable person with the perception, humour range and ability to concieve that not everyone is a ray of sunshine or born blessed with positivity shinning out of thier arse, having demonstrated either a like minded nature or immunity to taking offence to a different view point than thier (my!) own

????; A person yet to be classified or titled as no one outside of one women has held this position capable, or proven to be willing to accept it and therefore worthy of my true capability to commit to… I would say ‘to love’ but that bar steward has been using my back as a knife rack for years!

Which one do you think you are?

DISCLAIMER: ANYONE READING THIS IS STRONGLY LIKELY TO BE WELL BEYOND ‘HUMAN’ AND THEREFORE NO OFFENCE INTENDED

IF OFFENCE IS TAKEN, THEN MAYBE SOMETHING IS WRONG IN THE FACT YOU HAVE READ THIS FAR!

Brick wall support

The moment grabs as a creature stalking in insepid ways to taunt the prey, a step back proceeds another in visualant caution burning senses to higher levels of fear in the act to want to run

You seek a hand to pull you to the places of calming safety but empty darkness claws your palm, the sting of the poison affirming that live has yet to show merciful action and leave you with the damning seconds forever flowing forward until you can breathe easy

The hand on your shoulder an illusion conjured cruelly by the better intending part of your hopeful mind, resistant to drowning in the oceans of all the evidence spelling merciless fates you never wished to face alone

The brick wall suddenly against your back, the mirroring surface showing a face of hatred, loathing and anger as frantically you look to see who will watch your back with wanting redemption distantly dying in that growling reflection’s eyes

You have your answer but it was never the path you chose, that unstable mass of negativity through the bitter lense of depression now a laser like weapon, the odour of burning stinging your widened eyes as the creature you feared now becomes a pile of acidic ash

The acidic burning that follows a distinctly bitter reminder that you have dissolved anther life line, your act of safety without another’s help hath cast too widely it’s affects without measured consideration, lacking that restraint and sensable caution which comes with not been alone

So the next creature is born out of another’s unintended suffering, the games again starting and the cycle set on its ravenous path to take more of what makes you human, the food it craves to consume

Your fate to become another horrifically edged shadow, the path you never chose but fall into perfectly as you see your victories become damnations, each time harder to utter the words brimming with caustic humiliation to the independent nature you dejectedly reply on…

“Please help me, I can’t do this alone”

Truth

Truth cannot be unknown

The effects forever marking

Whether the revelation was best intended

That matters not

Merely how the other person perceives it

And if damage has been done

So will remain forever damaging

Even if it was better intentions

That made you lossen your tongue

Truth cannot be undone

Emotional Poison

Emotional poison is caused by the corruption of unhealed wounds

Infection unchecked spawning hatred, loathing and anger

Too much and all spells warnings within the sight of the afficted

Too long and the poison becomes as blood

So how do you seal the wounds first inflicted

Kill the poison now free flowing and turning all toxic

When you have become too consumed by all that kills you

And the cure is too extreme to consider

Because to end the reign of the creature that is killing you

Is to end yourself as now only the creature remains

And you fear not what you have become

But what you were because you’ve forgotten who that person was