cristian's wordpad & lingering thoughts

dose of Cristianism & other absurdities.

Posts from the “dark” Category

Orwellian (my battle with depression, dysmorphia, anxiety, body image, eating disorder, perfectionism, and the ongoing back-and-forth with oblivion)

Posted on November 13, 2019

may my last words be half-slurred and cathartic so & so’s favorite blue jeans stained with tear drops & saliva head cradled in their lap, eyes barely widened my interventions’ HQ will be besmirched within silence my shoulder blades girth played role of a harbinger the bonier they got; the more i wished i was a skeleton malnourished, malevolent, maladjusted malaise talking in malformed metaphors to try and explain that there’s a concession of an all-dead jury saying my name prosecutor in a straitjacket who thinks I’m insane reading taped push signs over doors tailored to pull judges with mallets in the same shape of my skull my past lives failed me. pantomime in his glass house flailing glass eyed, no boundaries. highly contagious…

fötter day

Posted on June 20, 2017

you can hear the… suburbia chime, zirconia vertebrae. pearly white spine glass thrown in stone houses, regular suburbia night whirring, rewind. chronicled childhood in olive drab paint monocle glass. wormwood and bottles of shawshank. dissolute solitude, wanderer who wallows in maze en route. delay for tomorrow. never promised today virgin diary. anne frank. marie curie disease tinture of rainbow, even if the distance is blurry to me he, who knows the way to zihuatenejo. furlough father. demand you to die when i say so 26 pesos what’s left in your wallet lint and mothball, merryland. experiment omelette. laundromat arcade quarter exchange 2 o clock shadow of death and follicle strain these boulders were supposed to be gone when i got here you shouldered me…

I didn’t want to believe it

Posted on January 3, 2015

Im sitting alone at the cosmic stump. Sipping my soul & I’m Vodka drunk Thinking of goals. I’ve not have done Fission control. visit me in my head Cataclysmic logarithms. -picture dreams that are dead Bickering silence, word by word I fell in your haiku only heard what you wanted when I tell I love you Nervous, respond. I fell in the lust pool mouth of sin, out of breath a spell was cast on my lungs too she promised me passion, she promised me endless a synonym for forever. All I got was a toxic expansion mantras to mansion. so deceptive it hurt quoted my tantrums. like an excerpt from a book don’t mention the looks. I wonder how you mention me now?…

Flown off course

Posted on December 16, 2014

“Vaudevillian. I’ve flown so off course that my radar doesn’t even beep it’s silent, instead it weeps for some recognizable aura of man to detect signature heat, thermal readings. nothing Become so abrupt in my comings that most of my time is spent twiddling my thumbs I’ve flown so off course, a meteorite that had its path altered in slight trajectory by space debris could be my new home, if it ever passed by me that’s how far off I am I’m flown so off course, that my wings don’t even flap in this new dimension of flying, we fly with our minds. I’ve flown so of course, global positioning isn’t a satellite thing no more —- it’s how i view our galaxy from…

Quoted for emphasis on, fuck my life.

Posted on November 17, 2014

It’s been a minute, how you doing? Just trying to laugh with you. Making a joke or two, just laugh with me. I realize it isnt going to work if we both aren’t in it. But I want it to. Foggy visions. Wanting both of us to be in it. I- i, i..i stutter in my thoughts, so talking without this muse would be disaster. If I’m the rain that nourishes thirst, you’re the hurricane that uses the rain that it’s named after. Sprinkling chakra. The way the winks made me feel unique to someone. They say all snowflakes are especially different, so tell me why wouldnt a kiss then? They have the same characteristics. It’s a personable haste. Now a blizzard is personification.…

I like fictional books. The main character is always me.

Posted on February 28, 2013

Feel the vectors into orbit, melting into fiscal porn Each waking moment. Exists to mourn the pensive rigor mortis And I hate myself so much every. single. morning. Its like clockwork. Lonesome. Staring in the mirror. See a monster. Bones drugged. Mainly see the errors. Home drunk. Sloppy. With a motor function failure Open palm my soul in one. The shodokans prepared Im off the bat. Im off the case. Im solely here to reap A wad of air I waste. So oddly placed you forget to even breathe. You wake up in your sleep. Catch your breath, and then youre weak Wake to a dim reality that youre never truly buzzed Whole life I never felt hungover. Till I was happy once, then…

We’re 5 minutes apart.

Posted on February 28, 2013

Cause in this world? Your worlds restricted.  When curtains shine through blackness. We play and then we’re victim Every person out to get us. every person tries compassion? It’s more than mere prediction. There the serpent lies unchallenged But you whirl and try to damage. Cause you’re weak and your worlds afflicted. But to no concern to you, that serpent turns into a worser type of dragon You’re hurt. Your mind abandons. No service. Wires. Synapses The sadness morphs to scene addiction. Your journeys right of passage Feel worthless. I have had it. And addiction turns to habit. Fervid. Decline to comment. You persons can’t certainly try to fathom! what’s become or what’s to come. but you can read it in description the words are…

  

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