magikarp

instagram.com/magikarpe.that.diem

"I'm only a man, in a silly red sheet, digging for kryptonite on this one way street."

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  • magikarp 2w

    It's No Longer Under The Bed

    Darkness falls from the sun this day. As I'm burned by the sorrow of each blackened ray I recall my promise to stay in this wretched world when I solely wish to fade away. To be invisible as that dark light that embraces me with more despair than the blackest night.
    Colder than any rainfall I've known, than the snow I walked in alone, than being naked in front of all in whom a seed of love you've sewn, than the feeling of accepting I am grown..older.
    Mayhap it is my time to fall in line and give up all I am to be the rest instead of continuing to do and be my best when being anyone other than me is the only way I'll ever be even just fine. I'm tired, mired in this bog full of fog from the events that have transpired since the moment I first drew breath. Tired of breathing, seeing, hearing, writing.
    I need a millennia long nap.

    ©magikarp

  • magikarp 3w

    Justin D

    Smile with your eyes and lie through your teeth.
    Everything is okay, no one really cares, so keep it brief.
    Distract them with your hands and slip through the cracks.
    It doesn't really matter 'cause they're not really keeping track.

    Thirty years it's been, now, what have I become beyond some broken, lost, damned nothing, come from nowhere and going increasingly numb. I have learned more than I can recall, but I can't find the way to let go of all this painful aching from an unbreakable heart that's never stopped breaking since the day I said goodbye and started questioning why it was you who had to die and I couldn't take your place when to this very day I've been nothing more than a dreadful disgrace of a stain that stands out on this already filthy planet. And I promised I'd learn how to cope but I'm sorry I haven't and it hurts all the time even thirty years passed and I'm screaming inside for some sort of sign that I may know how long this will last,
    because I am tired.
    So, so, so very tired.
    Of hating myself, what I have done, where I have been, what I've become, where I am going, for always knowing; always knowing I can never ever forgive myself for this thing that was beyond my control. So what if we were only four years old. That should have been one of the days I was there with you, playing on the shore, getting sand in our shoes, riding in your little Barbie Jeep, making promises there was absolutely no way we'd be able to keep 'cause we'd just forget. Then, maybe, you could have gone home with your mom, and she could have kissed you before you went to sleep, praying the Lord, your soul, to keep, instead of feeling the emptiness of her arms at sunset. And I would be where you are now, watching over you, smiling down, thanking God it was me He took, and let you continue writing your book. Yeah, the story of your life would have been so pure and bright. Unlike my dark, morbid, twisted tale of agony, misery, despair and tragedy. You see, no matter how hard I try or lie, I just cannot see the light. And every single time I lie to sleep I hope, above all else, that to be the last day I see.
    It never is.
    I just want this to be over, but it plays over, and over, and over, and over. This is not a life, it is a joke. This is not living, it is mirrors and smoke, and I am a magician. Oh, how I put on such an entertainingly deceitful show. Pull a rabbit out of my ass? Sure! How do I do it? Hell, even I don't know. Alas, it has been thirty years and I'm running out of tricks, though not a single one could ever fix this godforsaken wretch I am, and I'll keep on going, even though no one is showing, because stopping is not something that I can.
    But, oh, how I wish it would,
    what I wouldn't give if it could
    just
    end.

    ©magikarp

  • magikarp 11w

    Another Life

    There's blood on my hands and a heart on the floor where the person I once was stands a shell eroding forever evermore

    A space in my mind where nothing's all I find beyond the breeze singing through the trees of pinned up memories fading like ships sinking beneath calming seas

    The mirror smiles as I walk away from what I can never know to accept my life as I am heartless hollow as the relentless cycles of day and night never-ending indifferent to all but what is

    ©magikarp

  • magikarp 37w

    "Oh, we learn that love is supposed to win-
    -but, sometimes, it's the demons that are standing in the end."

    - Parachute

  • magikarp 38w

    Breaking A Brain That's Already Broken

    We were wanderers, searching for a place to stay until you tripped and fell into your grave. It was a deceptively bright and sunny day, kind of like today, not a cloud in the sky, bit of far-off haze. A memory I'm trying so hard to save. Still, it's slipping away. The sound of your voice, curve of your smile, scent of your cologne, colour of your eyes fading to grey. The trees still dance and the wind still whispers your name as it gently caresses the leaves. The sun a gentle slap on my face - when I'd start losing grip you'd slap the sense back into me.
    Brother.
    I need you, your guidance, support, and grace. I need you to remember what we were fighting to be. All I see anymore is everything but the way forward and walking through the dark isn't at all frightening I still carry my sword but I've no compass no way to know which way I should go when up and down are options as well like heaven seems nice but I'm far more familiar and comfortable with hell and back there has so much simplicity because it's already done but up there is hope and potential for more battles that can and will be won.
    Victory.
    But what even is "victory" really...

    ©magikarp

  • magikarp 38w

    The Cup II

    Twelve years with my head in my hands, thinking, experimenting, pondering, relentlessly, yet I still don't understand. Nevertheless, herein lies what I had learned.
    The cup was never halfway anything - full or empty. That cup has always been full of both water and air. Some substances we can see, others we cannot, why should that mean they aren't there? It's no less maddening. Does it only fill halfway with visible substance to show there exists that which we cannot see? Is it meant to be revelatory? Is it meant to teach us about what exists within us? Is it simply to induce insanity? Is there no reason? Is the reason irrelevant? Does it matter if we understand the matter, or is all that matters is that there is matter?
    'Round and 'round in the head of this overthinker it went for those twelve years. Finally, I had to accept that, of all I could learn and understand, in spite of all I can and will ever know, I have to let that one thing go. It will forever be out of reach. The one thing I truly care to know and understand, and I can never. Not in this life, anyway.
    It's been two years, one month, eight days since I came to this realization. Where is that cup now? Shattered. Its pieces and contents littering the floor as the thoughts once littered my brain. I gave up for the first time the night I accepted that reality. An open door I can't seem to close. It's so easy to give up on any and everything, anymore. And I hate it. What I've let it do to me. What I've become.

    ©magikarp

  • magikarp 39w

    The Cup I

    No matter how much I fill it, the cup is only ever halfway full. I can look inside and see substance, but it's still always halfway empty. I pour more and I watch as the substance within stays leveled. They pour more and I watch as the substance within remains static. In my confusion and curiosity I empty the cup and begin again. I empty a gallon into its eight ounce capacity and watch as the substance fills to the four ounce line and resists movement as the gallon finally reaches its end. Perplexed I set the eight ounce cup aside and pull a twenty ounce cup from the cupboard. Another gallon jug fills the new cup to ten ounces and the substance remains unmoving as the gallon's last drop doesn't even send ripples across the substance's surface.
    Always halfway.
    Never more.
    I rest my head in my hands, distressed.

    ©magikarp

  • magikarp 39w

    Kaleidoscopic Chaos

    I'm tired of writing
    Yet here I am

    I'm tired of being
    Yet here I stand

    I'm just plain tired
    But I cannot sleep
    Because I am not awake

    ©magikarp

  • magikarp 39w

    Rain, Rain

    There's an emptiness inside that I'd forgotten about until a few moments ago when I heard your voice and cried like I did the day we learned you had died. Some answers just don't exist.
    Where did we go wrong?
    What could we have done?
    Why did you decide one more day was two too long?
    Who the hell am I even without you?
    Just one.
    Just one more irrelevant spec of matter in this cold, callous, careless universe.
    Just like you.
    I miss you, brother.

    ©magikarp

  • magikarp 40w

    Rigatoni And These Balls

    I don't even have to cut anymore. So much blood covering my bedroom floor. For as weak as I've become I may as well be made of glass. Never would have guessed all this cancer in my lungs and throat could be such a pain in my aspirations; they're falling through the cracks of the foundation I built my whole life on this bed of lies. Fine, I admit it! I'm not okay!
    Well, would you look at that, nothing has changed.
    Heart's still broken, soul's still caged, brain's still drowning under skies of grey within this hurricane of rage and despair. And I never asked for any of this to be fair, but it would have been nice if it were at least possible. Nevertheless, there's nothing left. I chose the right, yet I'm still filled with death. And I'm reminded of it with
    each
    and
    every
    single
    breath
    . . .


    ©magikarp