The Reject

Bhassam hain sab!!!

1 – I am the cheapest.

I am the weakest.

I am the tree nest.

Of ill treatment.

Neat pegs.

Addiction pet. 

Self destruct test.

The Reject.

I am the reject.

2 – Lonely.

Why were you only?

Left with such negativity,

Collapsed heaps.

Borderline Creep.

No sleep.

No dreams.

Can’t meet their eyes. 

Can’t see. 

Can’t feel.

Hydration on low self esteem.

Relapse deeds.

A big sharp shiny steel.

Guilt to the appeals.

Nothing reveals.

Silent screams.

Addiction supreme.

3 – Abandonment victory.

What do you believe?

“A stranger” from the Joker’s philosophy.   

Traces to heal, 

Traces to treat.

BLEED…Moron, FREAK…

Bleed…

Without any pity.

BLEED…Moron, FREAK…

Just bleed.

To treat,

to meet, 

to reach, 

to keep, 

Purposefully.

Atrociously. 

Evil keys.

Of a sanity peace.

Survival grease. 

Leaking gently.

Bandaged hankee.

Still blood red, bed sheets.

Morning peel. 

4 – I am the cheapest.

I am the weakest.

I am the tree nest.

Of ill treatment.

Neat pegs.

Addiction pet.

Self destruct test.

The Reject.

I am the reject.

5 – Alienated.

Isolated.

Unfilterated.

Hated.

Wasted.

Emotions, pasted.

Red fucking humiliate.

Gather around for the race.

Another phase.

Abductive mind games.

Never stops, begun to chase.

What’s your fucking name?

Stan…you’re a big shame.

So now, MAIM.

Maim Motherfucker Maim.

Somehow, escape.

This base.

Failed.

When you’re late.

But Dirt is paid.

Of guilty mistakes.

Self Harm seems to be the only way.

Live your dark days.

But uncertainty remains.

With Slow, poisonous, death’s pace.

6 – I am the cheapest.

I am the weakest.

I am the tree nest.

Of ill treatment.

Neat pegs.

Addiction pet.

Self destruct test.

The Reject.

I am the reject.

Written By ‘Patient’ Stan. (P.S)

 

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Red Coloured Paint (I.A.P.G. Impulse, Action, Pleasure, Guilt)

Impulse (Noun)

A strong and unreflective urge or desire to act.

Action (Noun)

The fact or process of doing something; typically to achieve an Aim.

Pleasure (Noun)

A feeling of happy satisfaction or  enjoyment.

Guilt (Noun)

The fact of having committed something wrong or have implied failure, offence or crime.

Credits: SATI_TheMystique.

Red Coloured Paint (I.A.P.G)
1 – Where will you go?

How will you cope?

When there’s just a fan and a sight of a rope.

And it turns to only one of your remaining last hope.

You start writing suicide notes.

In guilt, when the pain is more.

Earlier than before.
2 – What will you ask for?

Fucking end it all.

With a final call.

A call to make you shock.

A shock to make you knock.

A knock to make you empty like a rock.

An empty rock to make you small.

So small to make you end the pain cause.

A pain cause to build your walls.

With those walls, your mind mauls.

Bloody body is hauled.

Depression knot.

Anxiety clot.

Self harm mock.

Insomniac brawl.
3 – How will you stop?

How will you solve?

How ill, will you fall?

Ravaging dissolve.

Impulse – A Loop, a ball.

A vicious weavement of thoughts.

An Agent Of Chaos.

Action – An arousing pod.

Pleasure – A seductive boss.

Guilt – The splash of the sauce.

Drip – drip.

A releived grin.

Across my chin.

Just lose it.

And stains fill.

Blood on my nail prints.

This man who’s accusative.

Shine of the sedative, palliative.

Mind repetitive.

Screaming,”rule of 10 hits.

You fat bitch!!!

Why did you ingested?”.
Old nightmares haunts with a butcher’s knife.

A rope appearing nearer and nearer with that dreadful smile.

I might kill myself tonight.

Because nothings alright.

So I’ll become the sacrifice.

Modified,

To vice.
4 – It’s no more a game.

When scars begin to fade.

The urges make you vulnerable in shame.

Night time makes,

To lose my shades.

A tool innate.

A tool intricate.

Chugging down liquor generates. 

Unlimited wage.

Of severe self hate.

Precision of my mistakes.

Played, replayed.

Mind Slaved.

Human brain.

Impulse – You can’t wait.

Action – Objection is sustained.

Pleasure – Draining the pain.

Guilt – And the devil rapes.

Time to time, again and again.

Until he mutilates. 

Until I suffocate.

In a RED COLOURED PAINT.
5 – In depth.

My blade lies beside my bed.

A bleeding fest.

Cheek bones bruised red.

From rapid punching of myself.

Only exhaustion left.

Something begins to fade my present.

From the torment.

As many, and when I make more dents.

On my ugly flesh.

Borderline refreshed.

Necessary evil exponent.

Impulse – Self Harm Savage.

Mental Mallet.

Action – Depression Valid.

Tool – kit, Solid.

Pleasure – Annihilation Jotted.

Areas Spotted.

Guilt – Emotions Distraughted.

Visions Distorted.

RED PAINT KNOWLEDGE.

Written By P.S

The Psychedelic Experience 

Any connection is very common, but a soul psychedelic connection is very rare and unique. She deserves someone perfect and I don’t even recline close to that. Artwork By P.S for Sati.

1 – In unity,
We could be,

Honestly,

A singular power to breathe.

Where we could reach.

And ride a psychedelic jeep.

You’re not my queen.

Because you put me,

To a deep restful sleep.

That’s why you’re my SATI.

The Mystique.

But I can’t be,

Because I’m such a dark entity.
2 – My Mystique.

You can be,

Described through only.

Musical frequencies.

Cosmic Bass speed.

Kick stomping beats.

Time signatures that are oddly.

Viciously groovy.

Natraja beauty.

Hallucinate physically.

Intimidating perpetually.

Addictive personality.
3 – You have chewed the desire. 

But my synthesiser. 

You’ve become my drug, take me higher.

You’ve ignited a fire.

Of my own funeral pyre.

Like a flat tyre,

Now I’ve started to become much more quiter.

Like an empty lighter.

Like a Dead writer.
4 – The psychedelic experience.

You are my every reason.

But I have forsaken.

Eliminates in addiction.

Swaddled in confusions.

Frigid Isolation.

Doom separation.
5 – An Emotion.

Enlightenment Motions.

Depletions, 

Of subjugations.

Anxious occasions.

Psychedelic Amplifications. 

Biochemical destruction.

Knees tremors.

Failed methods.

To keep myself stable together.

Ashamed of what I feel for her soft heart & mighty feathers.
6 – The psychedelic experience.

You are my every reason.

But I have forsaken.

Eliminates in addiction. 

Swaddled in confusions.

Frigid Isolation.

Doom separation.

Written By P.S For SATI_TheMystique.

 

Pick Up A Blade

1 – Perforate.
Circumspection re-generates.

The one thing you can’t debate.

It dominates.

It’s how they parade.

And they won’t explain.

Until you pick up a blade.

Appears like a bouquet. 

A fragrance that promises to eliminate.

Whatever you pain.

Whatever chews your brain.

Eroding to complicate.

When you pick up a blade.
2 – Digestion frail.

Of better intake.

Everyday when you make.

A promise to yourself that you won’t break.

But till evening there’s just shame.

A provisional trace.

A guaranteed provoke leading to damage.

Whenever you pick up a blade.
3 – This Hate.

This Fate.

This Phase.

What I write is what I live with every single day.

Shamed.

Ashamed.

Guilty Case.

When I will present, you won’t be able to tolerate.

This fuming internalised rage.

Toxically rapes.

Addictevly operates.  

Inside a Mind Cage.
4 – Preferring to turn to a waste.

Battling the race.

Figuratively a broken vase.

Burning concentrates.

Liquid shakes.

Blade pain.

Adrenaline craves.

Nasty marks that fades.

The Mind, The Emotion, The Surface.

Relaxed Base.

Fundamental temperament staring in my face.

Powerfully hallucinate.

Carelessly penetrate. 

Damaged, despised remains.

Anxious in my zone, in my space, in my place.

Whenever I pick up a blade.

Written By P.S

Inexplicably Inevitable

1 – Seen you’ve survived.

So now let’s destroy your night.

Don’t be terrified.

I’m just here for a while.

But I’ll molest you deep from the inside.

Where you won’t be able to recognise.

That I…

Will rip you blind.

So you can carve fine.

Parallel lines.

Failed fight.

High like…

Never mind.

I’m fine.

2 – Sometimes a bubble wrap.

Is all you have.

When you’re getting smashed.

Just too FUCKING fat.

Get yourself trapped.

Kill yourself & never comeback.

Because you’re full of crap.

A monologue in total contact.

Tolerance bursts to act.
3 – Get away from me.

How can you love a freak?

Who is ought to destruct himself completely.

Isolation doesn’t feel lonely.

Sometimes it provides security.

Inexicably.

Inevitably.

Inexpressibly.

When you succeed to hurt me.

Coping becomes nasty.

But I deserve it anyways, no need!

I’m dying already.

Get away from me.

Let me act in, toxically.

Sprinting those razors atrociously.

A wave of silence spreading softly.
Written By P.S. ‘PATIENT’ Stan.