Quiet

Mahadev 🙏 (S)

Quiet.
Written By P.S.
Theme – Depression.

Anxiety.

Addiction.

Self Harm.

Eating Disorders. 

Mental Health.

(Trigger Warning)

1 – Riot.

Tired.

Anxiety liar.

Insomnia fire.

Blade desire.

Urges higher.

Urges hired.

Blood drier.

Abnoxious surveilled diets.

Everything remains quiet.

Just tired

Just quiet.

2 – Cinematic gleam.

Collapsed heaps.

Bleeding gently.

Bleeding everyday, every week.

Dirty deeds.

Dripping on feet.

Guilt regimes.

Painful screams.

Extraordinary scene.

Of suppressing, relief lean.

Depression clean.

Everything’s red but, the world is again green.

Quietly bring a team.

Bring your needs.

And fall down on your knees.

Bangs on self esteem.

Madness speaks.

Damn! How weak?

How are you so weak??

3 – Riot.

Tired.

Anxiety liar.

Insomnia fire.

Blade desire.

Urges higher.

Urges hired.

Blood drier.

Abnoxious surveilled diets.

Everything remains quiet.

Just tired.

Just quiet.
4 – Trigger table.

Damaged cable.

Vicious enable.

No! Good night, later.

“Haha”, laughs of evil favor.

Nasty galaxy crater.

Supreme fader.

Hate irritator.

Impulse surrender.

Action mender.

Pleasure seductor. 

Guilt rupture.

Possessive structures.
5 – Black and white.
Just fight.

This height.

Misfunctional device.

Vehicle seat belt tight.

On a driving night.

Switch on your headlights.

This is gonna be a nasty ride.

And you might,

You might not even cry.

After its done absolutely right.

Flying like a kite.

Black and white.

Don’t worry! Chew and bite.
6 – Riot.

Tired.

Anxiety liar.

Insomnia fire.

Blade desire.

Urges higher.

Urges hired.

Blood drier.

Abnoxious surveilled diets.

Everything remains quiet.

Just tired.

Just quiet.

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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

Unfigured Disfigured.

SATI is pure.

How is this possible?

Is the main question to start with. I mean how? Seriously, this was not I was looking forward to. It has chewed me down and have swallowed me alive. The ambiguous, unknown and such strange thoughts are wrecking me. The pattern, the shapes, the structures, the design; It’s like I can see through it all clearly and understand it as well. Sorting connections. Simultaneously, one by one, a havoc, an unsolved puzzle is appearing before me which I need to to figure out somehow.
Honestly, I see her as a powerfully evolved hybrid creature, opening my third psychedelic eye or senses; like the genre in music particularly known as ‘Hi-Tech Dark Psychedelic Experimental Trance’. When I vibe with her it honestly feels like a strong rush, making my knees go weak and heart been stabbed multiple times (Don’t get me wrong, just referring to the sensations of extreme closeness, hardcore attachment to her, felt). I am a part of her and she’s a part of me.
My life is like on Acid Trips these days. It feels like all buttons of the controls have been misfunctioning, the time in particular, to be precise is like ceased. It has stopped and something deep inside me is whispering “Forget It”.It’s deep down but it’s surely there. At the same time the connections I’m able to perceive are on a completely different level or Dimensional Zone.
A very strange place, it is something most would never get it’s depth and intensity. For them it is what is known as Love. To be honestly specific, my emotions are much more complicated than that. Trust me, believe me.

When I have practically lived in that dimension and not just merely existed, ate there, got shelter there, found solace and comfort, worked there and finally did the best I could’ve possibly done in service.

But this guilt has stricken me down on my knees, thoughts such as, “We are made for each other, but can’t be together”. Realisations of being such a cold hearted human when she gave her absolute best to me.
The thing is my evil mind won’t shut off. This psychedelic experience has generated both good and bad vibes inside of me. I even feel ashamed after working my best, my words are not able to properly communicate through my poetries what I personally feel for her. That’s why I’m writing this.

A soft corner, so gentle and pure how can I express? Even my words fail when it comes to explaining or elaborating to others what the situation is. My poetries doesn’t deliver any kind of justice to this to be honest. Two pieces, and I still was not able to figure this out. I feel failed at my job or at my Art or skill, talent etc.
The intensity of these emotions has shocked me to my core. I’m a dark entity and she deserves someone who can make her happy. But vibing with her is what actually surprises, confuses and finally also gives a sense of satisfaction in me. These waves are strong and are not some transient or temporary amplifications. What if I feel this way for the rest of my life?
I’ve been getting goosebumps, nocturnal leg cramps, weakness, jitters, shakes. Most of all this has made me depressed, I can’t sleep, can’t eat, self harm urges, big time anxiety, OCD variants like, walking within a small space, rapidly pacing back and forth constantly for hours. A sick wrenching feeling inside my gut. These are the physical manifestation and possession of these emotions. These emotions are actually very raw, versatile and complex in it’s own nature.
It’s like I am in no position to feel this way for her, not permitted or allowed and held within strict rules, I’ve gone out of my way somehow. Being a Borderline is not as easy as it is just only pronounced.
(Conclusion)

The interpretation is quite intriguing for me because she’s quite intimidating and challenging for me. Can’t be pursued no matter what.

What I can’t understand are these feelings. Where are they coming from? How is it possible? And finally not even a million years.
The only thing which I consider myself to be is a dark, hollow, contaminated, toxic and evil self destructive creature.

This time unlike earlier I will indeed cross those sea shores and miles never been ever touched, to destroy or destruct myself. Thats what I’m best at. I accept that I’m a mental wreck and everything can be easily scattered and shattered. And so will I. I Can already see the doomsday Sati. 

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

Depths Of Suffering

Shadows haunt you.

1 – A war constant against myself.

Can’t find ways to defend.

This demon inside which has possessed.

Making me feel totally helpless.

When I starve, I feel like I’ve achieved a lot.

But certainly paid a very very high cost.

Contributing further to my own personal degrading loss.

The voices go too loud in my head.

They are all making me dead.

Stop bloody ingesting.

Run for the purging.

No matter what I eat,

I couldn’t hold it in, even while being asleep.
2 – I atlast tried hard & finally ate.

But couldn’t stand the fact of feeling full again.

In disgust I threw all the remaining food away.

Powerful voices feeding inside of me.

Hoping for a new start, a new journey.

Even after fucking recovery. 

Discovering the voices back inside of me; hard to beat.

A new truth added towards a ruined destiny.

“Go fuck yourself if you eat.”

“You bloodyshit remain guilty.”

“Without feeling kindness for yourself or sorry.”
3 – Madness as you know is alot like gravity, all it takes is a little push.

Leaving inside of you a self destructive thorny bush.

A victim to a crime totally confused.

Insanity extended functions to maximum use.

Pain accumulates to rip open the wounds.

Severely broken down through  self abuse.

Avoiding everything through being negligent to the truth.

I have lost myself to a stranger, totally fooled.
4 – Severe measures.

Took under desperation.

Persistent hate continues to bother.

Inside the mind, lingering under.

Weakened to the point of fits & seizures.

Detrimental while in starvation period.

Losing all controls on anxiety & fear.

Lying & cheating while in self denial.

Patient relapsed potential death is near.

A silent kill which no one would be able to hear.

Afraid of the voice.

That hides inside.

Dominated by an entity totally unknown.

No one would ever come to finally know.

To what exactly an individual does behind those closed doors.

It appears that a monster is in full control.

Written by P.S 

Dead With The Rest


I have friends.

That makes the best.

Singled out; alone fest.

A quiet nest.

An unknown bet.

Torn & shed.

Resolvement.

In severe depth.

With friends of confidence.

Trust them.

Fear reject.

Failure defect.

Still added.

Multiplicated

Overthinking faded.

Completely hopless.

Comforting friends.

Tried their best.
Still I feel so alone.

Alone & cold.

Miserable & unknown.

Dynamically broke.

Whatever you told.

Makes me know.

I’m not sure.

Wether you will leave.

Or push to put up with me.

I feel nothing.

Just hopelessly breathing.

I want to cut to feel something.

Or else I’ll be panicking.

I am hurting.

I am nothing.

I am a failure, at most of my things.

So give up on me.

And keep running.
Or else I’ll be rude.

I’ll shout the brutally true.

And then you will definitely choose.

The opposed view.

I was successful, in pushing you.
Stay away.

It’s better that way.

I am a mess, who doesn’t cooperates.

I’ll be fine today.

Tomorrow’s, nothingness will be the same.

I’ll feel ashamed.

Drinking my pain.

Alcoholic waste.

Imagining abandoning phase.

Degrade. Degrade.

Mind full of hate. 

Again & again.

Thoughts pile up the weight.

Pick up blade.

Feel the pain.

You deserve it; you are lame.

Entering the delirium state.

End the game.

Destined to your grave.

Helpless & hopeless fate.
Bleeding red.

What’s the best?

You are, killing yourself.

Maybe I’m possessed.

Totally obsessed.

Absolutely worthless.

No one to help.

Isolated but dealt.

Measured to get.

The thin targets.

Life to lifeless.

Applied madness.

Strict but careless.

Slow & emotionless.

Will to test.

Survival shed.

Failed instead.

Dead with the rest.

Written by P.S  (PATIENT Stan)