Do You Ever Leave Yourself Alone — Jaded
Torture syndrome still lingers at the rate of my successful climax, pedaling so far, yet the pedals always need changing. Am I doing too much? Or am I doing too little? Seems like the world would rather have torture syndrome than one less lonely pedal…
Ugh — Jaded
Another friend slipped away. The devotion of love came to her presence, defining my future with a good friend, while trying to maintain the relationship we already had. This right is bitter, righteous, and just downright wrong.
They Gotta Talk to You Nicely — Jaded
Life laughs, as you were told its joyfulness would bring prosperity and carry your grace. It is a life lesson: continue life’s ignorance and find peace— embrace the extraordinary. Linger with your outcast— it’s your fault you’re this closed off.
In the Wake of Silence — Jaded
Silence is the loudest thing in the wake of everything I’ve said. The words hang in the air, unspoken, untouched, and I wonder if I’ll ever hear them again. But the silence speaks in ways the words never could, and I listen— even when there’s nothing…
Faded Echoes (a script) — Jaded
(A dimly lit room. The narrator sits at a desk, scribbling thoughts into a notebook. Outside, rain taps against the window, but his gaze is fixed inward.) NARRATOR (laughing dryly to himself) You ever wonder if life’s just one big joke we’ve all been too…
The Syllabus of Existing — Jaded
Oh, the grand cosmic joke we keep trying to annotate like it’s some holy textbook— we spend our days decoding meaning like it’s buried treasure, but darling, if we’re all still searching, doesn’t that prove the damn thing matters? Case closed, Your…
Versions of Betrayal — Jaded
Getting used to a new custom— built by the version of me that dares to seek a better self— feels like betrayal pressed deeper into the spine I used to trust. Familiar rituals, once comforting, now ache like borrowed sins. Hopeful beginnings have made me…
Should’ve Pulled the Trigger When You Had the Chance — Jaded
the Chance My soul drifts from its capsule, slipping into pictures of sticks and stones, fresh off a cleansing—curses still smoldering. Healing? A lie I tell myself while writing a script where I’m both the sinner and the priest. A donor of evil, smiling…
I Can Sit There — Jaded
I can sit there— give you everything. Knowledge, hands that help, even a roof when storms hit. And what did you do? You got comfy in the riddles I gave you— “Give him an inch, let’s see if I can run a mile.” So you tried. Oh, I saw. And I sat there. Sat…
Spoiled Cries with Deeper Cries — Jaded
Risen from the ashes built by the pawnings and landings of past, future, and current events. Not a thing learned, not a thing earned, but the bypassings of others, tarnishing them with backstabbing approaches and a spoiled hail of cries. It ran on for…