Dissidence

There’s no way out, is there?

Convince me that there’s something waiting for me at the end of time. Point me to that tunnel of light, because clearly you all say it’s too easy to find. Push me in all directions: north, south, east, or west — even an angle that’s barely right. The sun is setting, and I’m waiting on angelic signs that one day I’ll really have what’s mine.

Nice false promises, did you make them yourself? What the fuck was our cups of coffee for, anyway? You had me at my best interests, but there was no way you could deliver. What was the point of this when you were the only one who always had the last say?

Give up. No prayers nor questions can call for answers of a yesterday that was meant for someone else — someone better. Look up. The sky is dropping pianos left and right, and you’re standing there like it’s everyday weather.

Has lying to me been your pretty little motto wrapped in nice paragraphs? Commentary laced with all sorts of gratuitous pleas just happens to be to your best shot? Don’t give me foul excuses when all you did was whack fingers against plastic squares, hoping I won’t tell you that the remedy is decaying to unrecognizable rot.

The truth is plain and simple. It’s written in a language we both understand, because we made it from scratch. Your ears aren’t crippled, you obstinately stubborn fuck. You’re too stuck in places you claim as your own land.

Don’t bother fighting your own derogatory nature through a mirror. After all, you did call me a second half to whole made of nothing. An illusion birthed from pain given as a punishment, which you adorn with so many decorations. Why waste time on the little things, when you should stop breathing.

So what if we we’re born into a life riddled with question marks with its own questions? I keep telling you the answer isn’t there, and you won’t listen to me. I never saw this as a competition, but perhaps you cannot see what I see despite how much we share the same body.

Know this: I’ll be through with you with a knife against the same neck we’ve pleasured with kisses. If you want this to be a game where every turn is a ceasefire that never really had any follow through, then so be it. We shared the same existence, yet you deny me my own wishes. I do not want to be you as much as you don’t want to be anyone but yourself, but I’m already past the point of having any reservations in my absence of sanity and wit.

All this sissy talk about wanting to break free, yet you can’t snap your own muscles as a humble sacrifice to the trails we could’ve been blazing. You crave sincerity and honesty in places that don’t serve you as well as I do, and so you betray me with crocodile tears juiced from our eyes that have been crying.

Don’t call for help, because you know everyone has left with the happiness you should’ve saved for yourself. You’ve given so much that you even took away what’s mine. Life is barely a charity, please fucking open your mind to the idea that maybe this is all a farce. You aren’t acting out any roles, and I never even had a single line.

I hope you fancy some cyanide to stop your mindless pursuit for more persistence. If you really loved me, then you’d embody a certain kind of dissidence.

Watch your back, because one day I’ll grow my spine in the gaping void where yours should’ve stayed from the start. It’ll be to the point that there will be no room for any more air supply. Reap what you saw, because I’ll clog your heart nice and tight.

I hope it’s clear that I won’t be sorry when I decide it’s our time to die.

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hallucinating on command.

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thanatomania.

thanatomania.

hallucinating on command.

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