Untitled 03

What a year, huh?

I have seen your flesh decaying recently. You know what was the unfortunate? It was not about the junk that hit you; it was about you. It was you and your pseudo issues. You pretentious motherfucker should have been fixed up a long time ago. Before shit hit the fan, cohesion has not crossed your path. You can blame the inauspicious, but did the prior deem proper? Was it convenient before the shipwreck or were you seeking a buoy on ground? I know you shook when confinement was needed. I know you broke way before the crash's birth. I know you pursued termination before enrollment. I know you think I am your savior. I know you don't know shit. And even if I don't know, you know that the mirror knows.

The year was hard. Disasters from triple litigation, social-sabotaging, vengefulness, career-death, then career revival, mental breakdown and when I finally started to breathe, a car accident hindered the whole progress and pushed me back to a local rock bottom. I don’t believe in rock bottoms, I’ve had a lot of what I thought were rock bottoms only to discover another rockier bottom underneath. Yet, I looked for you to survive. I used drugs and alcohol to suppress pain, but we both knew only you would remain. Priorly, I sought stability. You know I just wanted peace. You know before the crash I looked for truce. Way before the smash I just sought harmony. You know killing my ass has always been the only clarity, if you ain't winning you gotta fold I know. I looked for hope and you have given me a bluff. You actually made me think this shit may be brief. Even if it ain't, you told me it won't go deep. Even if it did, you told me to seek pleasure till it cease, and then, "In your musings it would click and you'll have control". I believed you and that's why I made it before. Now you are ashamed of me? You think I am exaggerating? Who would have fell like me and espoused himself? Who would have suffered similarly and moved on to live? Was my broken brain not enough for my termination? Was my fucked up mind not enough for your compassion? You know I sought no empathy. You know I avoided sympathy. You know the shit that wrecked me it was old yet heavy. And more shit ain't a replacement; it is just bodies stacked. I thought you are my only friend, my only match. I drew poetry for you and not a single one was pretend. When I hated everyone I couldn't hate you. I hated myself and still chained you. Every climax was celebrated with you. Even in rock-bottom I always desired you. Even few days ago when I thought psychedelics would heal. You remember how it turned out as animosity fuel. Before, I hated myself, people, and everything in an apathetic form. The trip made me abhor and despise every fucking one in a sharper pragmatic form. I was among my allies but I was sickened. Every look and interaction made me feel nothing but hatred. I realized that the drugs were not to heal but they just made the shit more clear. They made me look at all of you and wonder why the fuck am I staying here. But even in that darkest shithole, I looked for you. I talked with you behind those artificial cages. I left everyone, but I couldn't leave you. Even if it is done, I would be honored to be accompanied by you.

Fuck you and your incompetence self-sabotaging self-abasement persona. It ain't real you know I guess you just love the drama. You love your malignant nature and your flawed perspective, thinking it is a push for the peak, thinking you are some philosopher. You ain't no disciple you are a piece of trash that do not deserve living. I tried to push you to the right direction. My face was your future mirror you were always looking. But still, you weren't really looking. You thought you are pushing for something but you were just pulling. I hate how you always put a logical reason to shitting. I hate how you thought it was your being a logician that pulled. I hate how you pulled everything and still fold. You really thought I am your guardian? Even though I practically told you I ain't no liberator. You kept seeking shit as they were your savior. They ain't no savior those alcohol and drugs. It ain't a reason you held yourself up. Salvation ain't no goal nor a target. The only sabotager here is yourself. If the bottle could talk it would have agreed. The only one who's rooting for you is already dead. When I see you I see a bad representative. He tries to talk himself out of this castigation. He tries to kill himself to avoid interpretation. Even when he is reasoning he is just spitting around shit proposition. He is a master in pulling each and every thread. He is a perfectionist in being treacherous, you know? Is your words spitting meaning or they just an adaptation. Is you really a disciple or you are just a fucked up nation. Stop with this shit coming out of your mouth, we both know I ain't no hero nor a protector. We both know each shit here was ruminated. You thought all was foreseen? I guess you it was envisaged. I guess the moments you wanted to end it all were legitimate. You think the only savior is a black revolver? Then be it.

I tried my best not to sabotage. I followed every rational path not to farther around. I tried my best to find a meaningful reason. I even thought when it wasn't it I would have the sense to back out, to follow every incentive to self-immolate; if it made sense then be it, I ain't afraid. I do not care whether it was sentimental. I just knew if it was rationale, it was justified. I tried to avoid those thoughts and on those you pushed me behind. You told me once you're here when it hits, I trusted you, you were my only sense of self. If I was really a lost cause why you pushing? Why you making it like some druthering? Why you making it sound like it was all me? You were a part of it, you ain't getting no sleep. You gotta doze remembering that revolver thinking to yourself "maybe I was his only savior" thinking about me when I leave the stage, I would drop my mic and I hope you would behave reserving each drop we spilled. You know currently with blood my words are spelled, ink wouldn't have sufficed. Even those fucking simulated characters ain't enough, I gotta feel the twinge so you can actually prevail. You should have realized your power over me. You should have killed me when you lost belief that I will get out of this pit of self-trolling behavior. I always knew you ain't no savior. I knew you were only a fake reason to hold on. I looked to the mirrors wondering who I become. I looked and asked myself "Is it all worth it?" You didn't help me then you were just a catalyst. You held me up like an agitator; waiting for me to break down so you become the annihilator. You are neither an anarchist nor a provocateur. You are just a motherfucking addon that showed mercy pro tempore. Yes, I liked you, but I never considered you stationary. However, I agree that I should have felt that black revolver blast a long time ago. I agree that if mirrors talked they'd say "You gotta go". I agree I shoulda killed my ass a long time ago. But at least I realize I am fucked up, but you can't see I'm not as fucked up as you. The whole world can't recognize how agility can't stop a suicidal weakness. The whole world realizes how insignificant we both are. Everyone knows how ineffectual we are. We all know how paltry we are. In the very least, I know that when it hits it would be done. Then, you would hold to me asking me to endure. Then, I would neither sustain nor withstand; I would just consent with a sneer. I would just affirm with no fear.