DEAD AMY: THE LAZY NIHILIST

IG: @DEAD_AMY || Fiction and Freelance: Writings for the Outsider || Optimism is for the blind.

[deadamy]

You are very careful to Not let it mean Too much

[deadamy]

Thunder and lightning, protect me from God. I won't be skullfucked by faith. I am the upside down cross.

Ceremony,  He-God-Has Favored Our Undertakings

[deadamy]

“love yrself” or some shit

I’m so in love with myself Yea I think I’m really fucking hot To maintain this sexy bod, I have a carefully curated diet of Cigarettes, beer and gin, After I get home from the bars I spend a long time looking in the mirror Thinking about how many guys Probably thought about talking to me Got some tats that broadcast That I’m an “alternative” person They’re louder than my personality So I let them do the talking And this mind? Sharper than a razor That thirteen year old depressants Slit their wrists with It’s been honed toan edge by years of Paranoid self-analysis, Drug-induced introspection and Self-inflicted mental torture Don’t worry, ma I love myself and my life and I’m doin’ just fine

[deadamy]

No-chilla

I’m sittin here tryna write poetry but I keep checking my phone Over and over and over… Same shit, different Instagram story This weekend all the plebs are at Some brujaja in the desert The festival equivalent of MTV after the late 90’s Yea maybe my tastes are just Obscure and high-brow I hear about Lady gaga dropping some new single In front of thousands of adoring fans And say, ‘meh.’ I mean I wouldn’t mind the music It’s the idea of three full days being surrounded by selfie takers Boho chic ensembles n daisy dukes It would make me want to Rip my fucking eyes out And make optical jerky in the Hot desert sun

thank goodness all you people are out of the goddamn city

[deadamy]

Dreamscape

Everything is a memory of you Even that which has nothing to do With your breathing, your eyes, The way you smell None of this makes any sense and yet I'm anchored by my own affection Dreaming something more tangible Than this bizarre reality In which I am not the one for you And you are not meant for me

[deadamy]

lightbulb moment: it’s not me. you’re just into human garbage.

[deadamy]

they’re killing people in arkansas because the drugs are going bad so make sure it don’t go to waste each syringe worth more than the life it was designed to take away

[deadamy]

in me where there is beauty this night i want to tear it apart it lies, it lies, it LIES! there is no future in this art

[deadamy]

Have a drag from my cigarette I'd like for you to kill yourself Just a little bit

[deadamy]

Incinerate

Everything becomes nothing I wanted you to be different This traitor heart Leads me ever astray

[deadamy]

Now I am made of poison

[deadamy]

at the water cooler

my day was super productive, i stalked most of your friends online and my ego committed suicide, how was yours?

[deadamy]

the customer is always right

they say you don’t choose the ones you love if that’s the case, i want to speak to a manager all these choices have fucking sucked

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[deadamy]

writing about writing

sometimes i write to save myself i write because i’m in desperate love with someone else i write because i’m so fucked up on the inside tht if i didn’t bleed it out it would just explode out of me my whole body an exit wound

so, quick! a hastily written poem some literary ultraviolence and then fill the gaping hole up again with cigarette smoke and cheap gin

what better life is there than this heinous cycle of bliss and vitriol? i wouldn’t trade it for all the blithe happiness of ordinary people something about being mildly insane suits me very well

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[deadamy]

in bloom

inside me is a

kaleidoscope shattering

every part of me a beautiful splinter

stomach full of stained glass fragmenting in all directions sharp edges amongst a bloom of colors

in this moment I am a thing so beautiful it hurts to look at a million brilliant shards of light

but all that will be left in the end is the delicate flower of scars carved inside of me

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[deadamy]

3 petals

I. everything about you matters to me and i can’t step outside my head because you aren’t there

II. you are made the same way i am but there is a part of you that is empty and yet has no space for anything

III. futures are uncertain, but time is inevitable something beautiful and true in me will die i’ll stop loving you more than you want me to

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[deadamy]

scar tissue

a poem is an open wound every line a grain of salt summoning to the surface a pain that might have passed if it weren’t for the obnoxious habit that writers have of peeling back scabs and luxuriating in the ridges of scar tissue

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