gameknight2169

Latest Posts by gameknight2169

Notice

I think I'm going to stop posting poetry. I've had enough. The depression hits exactly the same as always and I can't come up with anything new. The words are splayed out in front of you all - they will allow you to peer into my very soul - and there's nothing more for my poems to tell you, no arrangement of words that brings anything new to the table. Anything I make now will be rehashings of everything in the previously, and I don't think I can come up with anything new or good.

Good day to all.

May whatever God is up there see the insincerity of my penance.

Edit: I may continue posting cryptic shit because I'm eccentric like that fr.

I Don't Deserve A Thing

I don't deserve to be happy, I'm just another useless fool,

Doing nothing and nothing and nothing till the end of time,

and if saving the someone took 10 hours of my life and I wouldn't be noticed,

then I'd probably just let them die whatever death out of laziness.

I don't deserve to be sad, I've been relatively lucky,

I am fed, with a roof over my head, constant electricity, more clothes than I know what to do with, and the sky is blue,

and it doesn't matter that I was beaten and yelled at and traumatized,

because everyone else had it much worse and got over it, so why can't I?

I don't deserve to be wanted, I'm not supposed to be wanted,

Anybody who wants me is greatly appreciated and surely a fool,

for anybody who could love this person with this face is a miracle,

a miracle of idiocy and foolishness and complete lack of judgement.

I don't deserve to be hated, why would you hate me,

it brings you nothing and I'm not even worthy of hate,

instead please ignore me, ignore everything I say,

for the silent treatment is worse than the loudest slur.

I don't deserve to talk, I don't deserve to be known,

I don't deserve to be heard louder than the people who starve,

or the people who bleed, or the people who lose, or the people who die,

I don't deserve to deserve at all, anything in this lucky, cruel world.

God Will Weep

God will weep

for the souls of the damned

and the sins of the holy

when I shove my fist through his chest

God will weep

for the poor and suffering

and the mistakes of the greats

when I kick his corpse off the cliff

God will weep

for the sins he has committed

and the suffering of the good

when I shove my foot through his skull

God will weep

for the wrongs he has done to me

and the defects he made me with

when I throw his ashes into the wastewater collection plant

God will weep

because when I find his house

and break in the door

he fucking better cry.

this is not effective.

only posts that succeed get attention, and are then reblogged by other people.

This creates the appearance of an unbroken chain of people succeeding.

In other words: this is a form of selection bias, specifically survivorship bias.

I Need to Move

I need to move.

I need to run.

I don’t know why.

Maybe to run from my past.

Maybe to run towards my future.

Maybe to run to beat my enemies, who are now old and weak.

I need to fight.

I don’t know why.

Maybe to assert my own superiority.

Maybe to assert my own self-defense capability.

Maybe to practice for when I am to fight my enemies on equal ground for the first and last time.

I need to move.

I don’t know why.

Maybe to run towards the future.

Maybe to fight the evils of my past.

Maybe to finally feel proud and confident of my body, of my self, for the first time.

I need to move.

Rambling 1

I am really going to go crazy some day,

I am going to go fucking insane.

It feels like the whole world is against me,

when I know it is not in truth,

but I can't let go of truth nor lie and it all blends together.

What do I want? What the fuck do I even want?

Is it money? Convenience? Freedom? Ability?

Will I come to value material more than I value people?

Will I come to value society more than I value its parts?

Will I erase "myself" in search of a "successful" future?

What am I? What can I be?

Am I able to be more than the sum of my history?

More than trauma, coping, addiction, fear, anger, sadness?

Do I even want to be more? Will I lose "myself" in the process?

Am I even allowed to change?

Forever That Child At Age Five

Do you ever wonder if people can really change beyond their formative years?

"Sure they can. Maybe not the whole, but a solid chunk? Yeah."

Well, I suppose that's true to some extent.

A man can live the first 20 years of his life in a constant state of movement.

Studying, working, doing chores, being what he needs to be in order to survive a harsh environment.

Then he can live the next 20 years in a carefree state of relaxation,

and live the last 50 as the hardworking man once more to provide for his family.

Or at least, that's the story of my father.

But I fear I am still going to be that same child I was, back when I was five, ten, fifteen.

I fear I am forever going to be under the shadow of that man,

that man who had two children without even realizing how fucked up his own childhood was.

I fear I will never become anything more, at my core, than that five year old child.

Sure, I suppose I'll change, superficially; maybe I'll know a bit more, fit into society a bit more, and so on.

But at heart I will still be that same, sad, scared little child,

a child who would do anything for a bit of affirmation and approval.

I fear that when I am thirty, or fifty, or eighty, or a hundred-twenty, or however the fuck long I live,

that I will still be no different from the child I was when I was five.

I fear that I am always going to be the same little boy who begs for just the slightest bit of love.

I fear that I am forever that child at age five.

Cycle of Pain

Let me be alone.

Let me be in suffering.

I have earned nothing less.

I have failed you.

I have failed them.

Throw me to the dogs.

Throw me on the fire.

Throw me like paper scraps.

Let me achieve penance.

hmmmm... should I deprive myself of human interaction...?

Tell Me What You Want

Am I who you want me to be?

Am I who you need?

Am I who you want to share food with?

Am I who you like?

Is this effort sufficient?

Should I put in more?

Is this emotion the correct one?

Should I use another?

Are these words the right ones?

Should I say a little less?

Are these motions the best ones?

Should I move a little less?

Tell me what you want me to be.

Caring? Angry? Happy? Sad?

Tell me what you need me to be.

Supportive? Detached? Blunt? Soft?

Please, just tell me what you want.

I live only to serve.

i think im just traumadumping with poetry at this point

The Temptation of Silence

Oh, how tempting that mistress is,

to be shut away and not a bother to nobody,

To make absolutely no-one the sadder

by reciting the same pains that ailed them.

Oh, how tempting that emptiness is,

to be quiet and subdued and unnoticed,

To make absolutely nothing go worse than it already has

by moving again to the great god of failure.

Oh, how tempting that nothingness is,

to be perfect and nonexistent and unbothered,

To make absolutely everything nothing, and nothing everything

by emptying the whole world of its contents.

Oh, how tempting that silence is,

to destroy my self in mine own vainglory.

Why Should I Care About Him

Why should I care about him? C'mere. Just look at this train wreck.

Ugly face. UUUUUGLY fucking face. Cmon. Have you seen this guy? He looks like every single kind of criminal's face averaged into a final composite. A face only a mother could love, except not even that - his mother is trying to fix it as we speak! Hah!

Fatass belly. Musculature of a rat. Those arms you see? Maybe a twentieth is muscle, the rest is fat. Can barely handle 15 pound dumbbells, what a fucking weakling.

His terrible posture. Back hunched over like he's 90 years old and about to croak, reinforcing his own negative self-image. Eyes empty like his brain, completely numb to reality.

And what about the mind? Well, what about it? He's a fucking dolt. Can't do anything well, refuses to work hard, just escapes everything.

Why, I'd almost go so far as to say that he's the product of nothing but childhood trauma and bad coping mechanisms developed in response to that trauma, except he might also be dealing with some undiagnosed autism and ADHD and those two aren't really his fault.

And look at him even now. Hiding away, refusing to deal with his problems, just writing and yelling and wallowing in despair like a fucking sewer rat, afraid of even asking his time-tested friends for support or help. Instead he just screams into the meaningless void like it's gonna do anything. Newsflash, bub, it ain't doin shit!

He's even gotten himself stuck in a circular loop! He thinks he doesn't deserve good things, he thinks he doesn't deserve to be happy, or be loved, or be human, and this sort of thinking makes him undeserving of those things, and he knows that, and he keeps on thinking it because he wants to not deserve those things! This sort of negative circular reasoning is like getting hit by a parked car; just don't!

And he talks like he's the only one with these problems, like he's the only one who'll ever understand, as he looks right into the faces of everyone who's ever had worse, and tells them that he has it bad, like the whole world has been bullying him specifically instead of him choosing to dig further into the pit.

He thinks he's martyring himself! Like his own suffering makes anyone any happier! (Well, it evidently makes his father happier, but that's besides the point.) What a joke! Come around, everybody, look! An idiot! Let's all point and laugh!

He's not even doing it correctly! All that happens when he talks is he starts fucking venting and making everyone else upset at him and feel bad. If you're really martyring yourself, why even say anything if you don't have something positive to say? Just be a good person and die quietly in the ditch. Shut up about your problems, everyone else has it way worse and doesn't need you adding to it.

Anyways, as you can clearly see, this lil fucker is completely worthless. Waste of air and oxygen. I'd tell him to just jump, except he doesn't even know where his nearest bridge is and hasn't bothered to search it up. What a fucking failure. Tell me, seriously, why should I ever care about him?

Oh. Wait.

That's a mirror.

Decisions

So many decisions all the time.

Like a hydra, each head popping out two more

and each of those heads doubling up again

like it wasn't decision-anxiety-inducing enough at the start.

And that's all very well and good if you didn't force me to interact

but nooooooooo I have to actually choose the singular right one

or at least one of the few close enough to the right one

which, of course, is none, since the only "close enough" is on the dot.

You know what? Take it away from me.

You're the smartass here. You know which one is correct.

Why don't you do it? Take my autonomy away from me, pilot my life?

Anyways you clearly know how your hydra works. Won't that help mine?

But no, you have to hide the whole concept of the hydra away from me

Making it my fault whenever you hit the wrong head like a fucking idiot

So that when I am first introduced to it I am met with a thousand heads

and little clueless me is told "yeah that's your fucking problem I quit."

And with each wrong, clueless swing I make

the number of heads only ticks higher

This Bottled-Up Rage

Hey, dad. You've given me a lot over the years. You've given me everything I have. You've pushed me to everything I did well.

You've also given me a lot of rage. You've given me a lot to hate about. You've given me a lot of trauma.

There's a lot that I want to say here but I can't. Because that would be stupid. Of course it would.

And so I'm stuck now with this mass of boiling rage and hatred and all of it

This fucking stupid idiotic terrible legacy you've passed down

Just hate hate hate nothing but hate just hate

Rage against everyone and everything

But don't actually say it out loud

Just keep it all tucked away

Like a shelf with

ten thousand

big bottles

of rage

tucked

safely

away

.

Time Is A Flat Circle

Nothing has changed since 10 years ago.

I am still that child who can do no right.

I still remember those same fears.

Fears of you. Fears of them. Fears of it.

I still remember those same people.

People who yell. People who hate. People who don't care.

I still make those same mistakes.

Rush-job, know-I-shouln't-but-I-do, idiotic mistakes.

I still beat myself up for it and do your job for you.

The yelling, the crying, the emptiness in the soul.

I still hate myself just the same.

Treating myself like shit, calling myself like shit, selling myself like shit.

I still love you all just the same.

Emptying my bucket for you, burning myself at the stake, taking your place in the gutter.

I still sort of want to kill myself.

The freedom, the release, the escape.

I still am a coward.

The fear, the chains, the inaction.

I am still that child who does only wrong.

Nothing has changed since 10 years ago.

I reach for the bright future

and I fall just one inch short

It is good enough. I have done enough.

But it is all unraveling back again.

I changed my direction.

I chose the better path.

I worked towards truly living.

So why is it falling back apart?

I convinced myself I could be happy.

I convinced myself I was allowed to be happy.

I convinced myself it would be better to be happy.

So why do I feel like I deserve to suffer?

Do I have anything to say for myself?

Do I have some sort of penance to offer?

Do I regret my choice, or only that I failed?

Should I regret my existence, too?

was the pie in the sky just another fucking lie?

There was a young man from Peru

Whose limericks stopped at line two

I Am A Good Person

I am a Good Person.

I must not get angry.

I must not fight people.

I must not shout.

I must not be angry.

I must not be sad.

I must not talk about my paltry issues.

I must not talk about what I want.

I must not be inconsiderate.

I must not be insensitive.

I must not appear threatening.

I must not allow my face to be percieved.

I must not speak to people.

I must not draw the attention of others.

I must not be extraordinary.

I must not be unique.

I must not appear unhappy.

I must not appear different.

I must not see myself as unhappy.

I must not see myself as happy.

I must not seek freedom.

I must not prioritize myself.

I must not hestitate to help others at the cost of myself.

I must not unshackle myself from the chains of my own design.

I must not escape these chains which hold myself back from both Heaven and Hell alike.

I am a Good Person.

Finally did it this time.

3rd time’s the charm.

today i am going to run on the treadmill until either my lungs or my legs give out

the pain will remind me to exist

Hello, who are you? I wish to know your story. I see poetry blogs like these, I see them in their void; posting tagless, just screaming out, and I grow so curious. If you’re interested in giving an autobiography to a stranger, just say and I will dm you. My account is anonymous pretty much too.

yall is this some kind of scam or something

today i am going to run on the treadmill until either my lungs or my legs give out

the pain will remind me to exist

Pushing Me

The Day of Reckoning comes and goes.

I think I am free. I act as if I am free.

You take that freedom away from me.

You say it is for my own good.

I see how much you love me.

But this is not the right way.

You have pushed me my whole life.

Everything I am is thanks to you.

All the glory. And all the pain.

The same boiling water that hardens the potato will soften the egg.

The same heat that purifies the iron also makes it soft.

The same hammer that strikes the nail will cave in my head.

Just one more year, you say. Just one more year until the moment.

Just one more year until I can enjoy my own existence.

Just one more fucking year.

That moment comes and goes and it moves ever further back.

You move the Rubicon South, and you move it further South.

The march never ends. We must push to the Rubicon.

It is always the critical moment. Each battle is the deciding fight.

Each time you promise me that the next fight will be the last.

And each time I believe you.

You were pushing me when I was a child.

You still push me as an adult.

I'm sure you will still push me as an old man.

Pushing me right into that open coffin as you tell me my legs aren't good enough.

Just One More Year

Just one more year until the Event That Decides My Life

and then I'll finally be free

The event comes and goes.

I am now free.

He takes it away again.

Just one more year,

Just one more year.

Just one more year,

Just one more year.

Just one more year until you can get what you want

and then you'll finally be free

The year comes and goes

You are free. Nothing changed.

Because he took it away again.

The Foundations of Love

How can I get you to care about people? How can I get you to be kind?

Why do you think love happens? Why do you think people are altruistic at all?

It's not because someone told them to be, I'll tell you that much.

It's because love and kindness are what the world thrives on.

Nobody wins by being angry all the time. No man is an island.

The world is not zero-sum. Kindness shared is kindness tripled.

But I'll assume this doesn't convince you, or you would've found the path by age five.

Let's consider the people who were solitary. The people who didn't love.

Evolution filtered them all out. Evolution championed kindness.

And if that's not a good enough reason to love, then I don't know what is.

What It Means To Vote

Lies, lies, lies, all the way down.

Do you ever really stop and think about who you're even talking about?

Do you ever think who gains off cheating you? Who wants you to stay stupid?

Do you ever think about what it means to vote?

You are deciding the fate of a society. You choose feast or famine.

So why, really, do you choose the man who has lied to you time and time again?

Why do you want the man who has shot you and left you for dead?

What the actual fuck is going on inside your head?

Do words even matter to you anymore? Do kindness and empathy mean nothing?

Are you just another sock-puppet of that moneybag in a suit?

Do you not see the bigger picture? The bots, the trolls, the media diversions?

Do you ever even think about what your vote really means?

A rapist, a felon, impeached twice, started an insurgency.

Do you even hear yourself? Do you even look at the man you're touting?

Black guy, have you seen the racism he perpetuates? Woman, have you seen the sexism he himself partakes in? Immigrants, have you seen what he wants to do to you?

Do any of you - any of you - really think about what it means to vote for this man?

Depression is a Drug

Depression is a drug

and I think I have become addicted

To that sense of despair.

It tells me, softly:

"it's okay. Nothing matters anymore."

"You can be as lazy as you want."

But what's more is that

I have built up a tolerance

and it no longer excites me.

I am no longer enthralled

By the infinite sadness.

I am only bored by it.

I want for more.

I hope for the moments that crush my soul.

The moments where the guilt and anger and sadness come in waves.

I look for the moments where my soul goes dark and my heart empties out.

But I am stuck in the quagmire of boring, base sadness.

and I am still controlled by it.

There is only fear left

I am sitting here.

All alone. By myself.

Bothering nobody.

You come along.

To do whatever. I don't care.

You look at me and sigh loudly.

No, what the fuck?

What was that supposed to mean?

"Nevermind." Nevermind my ass, tell me.

Is what I want to say, but I don't.

Instead I take that bravado and use it elsewhere.

I fake strength as I shrink inside.

I already know you do this bullshit on purpose.

This is something you do all the time.

Always ends the same way.

But it doesn't always end the same.

I'm not the only person in your mind.

So why do I assume it is?

You go and argue with the pacifist bastion.

She yells back. I fear it is about me.

I sneak closer. It is not.

This is the second time that I assumed wrong about your yelling.

You have much bigger troubles than me. I am not important.

So why do I always assume? And why do I always fear?

I have no answers to such questions.

I have no solutions to such problems.

There is only fear left in this husk.

Overachieving

Here's the test I scored well on.

Here's the competition I won an award in.

Is it enough for you? Will I be allowed happiness?

Can I talk to human beings again and pretend I am one of them?

The past year, no, two years, no, five, no -

The past over-a-decade has been nothing but more

so much more that whenever someone says "burnout is bad!"

I think inside, "I lived it; I breathed it; I became it; sounds like you just have a skill issue."

And I'm a terrible person for thinking that. If it hurt for me, it'll hurt for them.

But god damn if I have something else I'm proud of taken away from me again.

I come back with a 95. You ask, "why isn't it 96? 97? 100?" Or maybe you don't care. Just see that it's an 'A' and forget it by tomorrow.

I come back saying I did well. You ask, "and how exactly? What did you do? What did everyone else think?"

And I tell you because I'm a good child and I'm still that naive pushover who thinks the world is good and you are still family

And inside I pack up another bottle of anger and disappointment of various kinds of both you and myself.

And in the end I've had enough. You taught me how to shorten my fuse, and I've tried to make it last a little longer but you burn so hot.

I tell you to shut up and wait for the results. And inside I think but don't say: "You fucking asshole. Piece of shit that can't bother to be proud of their own child for fucking once."

So tired of your shit. So tired of being a good person to you because you're just an ass and you can't change that.

So tired of pushing forwards all the time. So tired of being pushed forwards all the time. Can't do it myself like a real human being.

So tired of being this mess who can't pull themselves together like a normal person. So tired of procrastinating and crying and sitting here wallowing in the exact same cesspool of angst.

So tired of doing everything wrong and right and being the perfect idiot child and pushing forwards and wading back and the whole fucking thing.

I'm just so, so fucking tired.

Change and the Future

if I'm going to do anything I'm going to make sure I can't be forced to go back.

It's great to go from poor to rich, but it's hell to go from rich to poor.

To taste the fruits of victory and then be dragged by the foot right back down to hell?

No thank you! I would rather not eat at all than eat exactly once.

Anyways I am already at rock bottom and have been for years. What more is new?

Oh, do not get me wrong, haha! I'm not saying I have no hope for the future or whatnot.

I'm just being very careful. "Risk-avoidant?" Yes, that sounds like a good term.

I will reach for the grapes only when I have stacked up enough chairs and boxes to reach for it easily.

When I jump, I'm going to grab the whole goddamn vine, not just one or two measly grapes.

I'm a greedy little motherfucker, isn't that right? I ask for little, I want for little, but what I do want for, I wait for the right time and grab hold of it forever.

Anyways the future is only real if you grasp it and hold on tight, and I'm not going to jump and risk a broken leg for nothing.