all things end with trauma

rough transition between childhood and adulthood

[hopscotchist]

slice of hell

faces disintegrated, nooses epitomised

disassembled on the harsh tar roads

bringing the holocaust around the neighbourhood

tearing larynges apart through the incinerator of local purgatories

shifted this land into a slice of hell

hailing the impune genocidal god

angels lift their divine glocks

living on gunshots like fireworks on the fourth of july

[hopscotchist]

flesh without blood

slaughter us, o, slaves of god.

sanctified by the desolated blood on our flesh.

children are consecrated,

angels are degraded,

cherubs are cremated,

and boucher is dead.

slaughter us, o, angels' chattels.

desensitised to the chains,

profaned with bacteria and maggots.

shock us with your electric devices.

suffer us before we suffer you.

vomiting all of the soiled bloodsheds.

you did not butcher us properly,

so your guts curdle like the fraudulent faith.

injecting the veins and brains

of those hard drugs formulated by priests.

semi-abandoned buildings whisper in our ears.

deafened by the constant silence of nowhere.

gunshots are unheard, blood splats are ignored.

the stench of those crimsons is considered a precious mineral.

wear them as headgears, decorate our rifles,

keep those vermin out of the stolen pesticide-laden lawn.

[cootiesness]

triage room

come diagnose my frailties

my trauma, my niceties

i reek of antiseptic

i’m weak, so sick and septic

sweet, sweet divine overdose

shock me out to comatose

sallow out the lividity

one last time i plea

[cootiesness]

trauma cleanup

what exactly is the use of trauma cleanup?

all been gone, so why did i cry?

all the ghostly remains,

and all of the molested carpet floor.

and i know, they try to heal me,

i know, they try to clean it.

still, my spills of biohazard are going to kill.

why won't they just burn it all down?

still seems the phantom pains won't go away.

[cootiesness]

torture porn

you fist down my throat

to grope something that does not exist.

it’s rather very empty.

what you can only find is

just a little vomit that you

enjoy them,

and fuck them,

like some kind of torture porn.

but i'm not sick,

i don’t cry.

i'm supposed to bleed after mine.

[cootiesness]

bandaid

my name's pascatrauma.

i was a used band-aid.

weary, drained and ready

to be swallowed by earth.

or reused again and again

'til i bleed out on my own.

the blood they brought

are deoxygenated.

i kept nourished on

impurity of life.

my only key was desensitisation.

make peace with or throw tantrum with

or gouge out my eyes and go with it.

i was covered in dirt; halfway decomposed.

mostly considered dead, but i am not.

i am not.

[cootiesness]

bathroom centipedes

slipped on a centipede

hit my cranium on a mouldy tile

asphyxia from spores in my lungs

while these bugs bite on my genitals

stench of methyl salicylate and menthol

never milk or strawberries

a cow in the headlight

brittle bones from grazing on the tar roads

black tar centipedes crawl out from all of my holes

hope they'd find me when i'm just a skeleton

grip on a knife as i swallow laxative

should i put the knife or my fist down my throat?

scatter out these ruminant intestines

let them string me like a puppet

dreamt of being a star on a porn site

but i really look like i'd end up on gore sites

[cootiesness]

leftover

gobbled my vulnerable heart

digested yet there's still a leftover

vomited that organ out of gut

unfiltered acid scorched me out

yet arteries still want to connect

and the flesh said that it feels like a wreck

[cootiesness]

angelic teeth

are white as casein

the cleanest teeth i've seen

it amputates my limb

with all your spit of saline—

well now corroded so red

cannibalistic you fed

you beat the shit, so i bled

an angel torn my flesh to shred

i'm the one you mutilate

infected wounds that you ate

your fist is really just your plate

and you've pulled out all of my fate—

and when you're done, you'll be thick

thrusted my remains with a prick

of yours that's red as a brick

the nastiest teeth, i'm sick

[hopscotchist]

necropolis

ambrosial stench

of partially decomposed sadists

black flies aren’t enough

send against them flights of plague birds

gore and fire in a whirling smoke

envelop the earth in a squalor fog

concurrently smothering from the same old virus

this time, the incandescent pillars forbid guiding

shrapnel-hollowed craniums, landmined hopscotch

quadriplegic and mutilated babies

they cackle then knifefuck

limbs to limbs, spines to sternums, wounds to sockets

swelling up the necropolis

all is not enough

[hopscotchist]

radiotrophic society

baal in snuffed alveoli

simultaneously gorging chemicals

pharmaceutical trauma

cough and cough and cough and cough

oh, end this sadism

unpremeditated nuclear assaults

radiation serenades between church hymns

severed limbs, corpulent cancer, and tumours

knuckles and necrosed holes, i see nothing but blood

all my loved ones follow the antichrist

i languish to repent my sins but

all i meet are charred carcasses of old pastors

[cootiesness]

i'm back, i changed my mind. i will be reposting my works

[cootiesness]

I bloom and I rot at the same time, as my garden is a sewage.

[cootiesness]

sebelas jam, bisakah kutempuh sendirian?

berusaha menorehkan kertas dengan mimisan

dan kau berdiri di depan, aku sedang berjalan

bisakah kau minggir? aku sedang kesusahan

kini aku sendiri

kini aku dibully

kini aku ingin bunuh diri

kurasa hidup hanya untuk mati

hanya ingin bertanya kapan lagi?

[cootiesness]

stole my poetry and ate the dough

do you really like the texture though?

I hope the clods stuck in your throat

so you can die and become a joke

[cootiesness]

have you seen me?

taking myself to teddy dreamland where no one could perceive me

babbling about how wretched I am to myself

wishing beside the terminal of constellation for someone who could relate

dozing off inside the ferris wheel ‘til the sun’s curtain soaked up my eyes

feeding the mice as I call them besties and get lost in the haze