Narco Fleas by Plutowe - HTML preview

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Watching Now You See Me whilst tripping on DMT

‘First rule of magic- always be the smartest guy in the room’ - Atlas, Now You See Me

 

Who is the Fairest of them All?

 

No, not a psychopath I promise

Pinky lies surprise, I’m always so honest

1,2, He’ll do everything right

But something feels queasy

Too much fight or flight

And why would he want to say that?

What caused that recent spat?

Once so pious and cavalier

Made that part overtly clear

So similar- could be your twin brother

Parallel parked

Don’t want to be friends, only lovers

No, not a psycho I promise

On the path to fame and prosper, recognition

You see, it’s really a mission

To supply me with some of your kindness

It gives me a rush to dismiss it

Push the button to attack and destruct

The blow will be loud and abrupt

I know how to destroy a brick wall

With a bulldozer, break in pieces

Knock down something so small

Project your reflection, so pretty and sick

Narcissists love mirrors to use and nit-pick

Perfect your soul seeking, reach through

Ditto, that’s true of me and now you

Take more, damned with faint praise

Not enough, observe and soul gaze,

Impress me

Don’t have their own soul so they take

Yours while you sleep whilst awake

His words tell you that he’s so weak

His words are the lies that you speak

His words are the symbols you seek

His words dog whistle in ears the whole week

 

Seven Soul Theory

 

My souls flew out of my body

Saw what was coming round the corner

They jumped out

Jumped

 

Out

And then couldn’t get back in,

Couldn’t get back in,

c-c-couldn’t get back in.

Watched from the corner of the room

what was an empty shell for a long time.

She was a shell forever

but I didn’t reject my own.

Knock, knock, knock on wood three times.

My souls flew back, my soul flew back,

I’m sorry soul I’ll nurture you whole,

I’m sorry soul I’ll nurture you whole,

I know it’s not your fault.

 

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

 

On the other side of the mirror

She looks pretty,

A straight streamlined nose,

Her expression discerning:

My secret self.

The personality entombed inside

Holds its truth well against those sick lies.

This life will grow and get better and better

While you’ll get bitterly old and then wither.

I know I am all that you’re not

And I’ll leave you alone with that thought.

 

Hannah Montana

 

I purge through poetry,

Once it’s out of the way

Then auf wiedersehen I say.

 

I do not think of you, I do not care

Except for the large backdrop of information

You’ve left for me to share.

I’ve so many stories, I’ve been through so much

And the end result is a richer life, as such.

I’ve outgrown your horse-shit like ivy,

I’ve outgrown it all, you’re so tiny.

 

It doesn’t end in applause after the fact

Once the curtains close,

The finishing touch of the final act.

It’ll backfire, it’s the smell of smoke.

Light your fire, fire, hot, neuro-lingus- piss on this, lighter-fluid, fire.

 

Two many Voldemorts’,

‘You’ll never know love and you’ll never know friendship’{9}

And you’ll never know fear.

I feel sorry for you,

Is that not what you wanted to hear?

 

Dual polarity hack this

Sagittarius, Gemini axis.

A boy and a girl,

Twin trauma bonds unfurl.

 

You might know how to attack an individual target

But a mass audience… forget it.

Is this a joke? Drink coke?

Is this a joke… drink coke.

This Horcrux{10} is healed,

Your secrets revealed{11}

But you’ll never get over the damage of the shared state,

Karmic patterns in your own sold fate.

 

On firey fags, you’ll have to rely

Until you find a new narcissistic supply.

 

The Riddler{12}

 

I’ll hand you an ASBO and say ‘sign here now please.’{13}

Stroking your fingers, I give your hand a gentle squeeze.

Hypno-puzzle,

Jerk awake before slumber.

You’re not going to die,

He’s gone now, remember?

Psychoman, ban that scam.

You don’t rationally expect the most likely scenario to be

Mind control as a result of his psychopathy.

Didn’t think, what’s this?

Must be a magician

Who’s programming my mind

Training me up

Like I was his dog

Without my permission,

Didn’t attribute that to my brain fog.

You chose the wrong target,

You thought that I was weak,

You thought that because I’m gentle and quiet when I speak

That that equalled idiocy

Well watch this here space,

Do I look like I’m lying? Stare into my face.

It’s just too easy to underestimate the soft little woman

Who is harmless and small,

Breakable and human.

My intelligence is insurmountable,

I saw outside my hypnosis.

Why did you leave clues bro?

Have you not thought through this?

I was like a sleeper agent,

I was a spy after all.

Did my height make you feel

A little more tall?

I knew the jigsaw was missing a piece,

It didn’t fit together,

I needed release.

Thank you rumination,

I could gather evidence forever

Like my own illumination.

Fuck that shit, I’m too clever.

Once I decide to figure something out

I’ll get the right answer without

any trace of a doubt.

 

Pavlov’s Littlest Pet Shop

 

Puppy bit you

when you kicked it.

It was true,

you picked it

be cause you

thought puppy was going to act on cue

but you were caught,

stepped on dog poo,

you spoke a whole lot of that too.

Nothing that you said was true.

Puppy’s bark was sharp into

unadjusted ears which

could not hear through

the untranslatable

but soon they knew

that puppy reacted to what he do.

 

If there’s only one god

it sure as hell ain’t you.

 

Thanks- Retraumatized Into Freezing

 

Shit dude, you should see the shit I’ve internalised,

is it not enough?

It doesn’t get lower than this,

Why are you minimising it?

It doesn’t help, it just pours more oil on the fire,

No more salt on the-

Ice.

It is not only just.

Only, just, that using the word abuse must mean exaggeration.

Not her again and her perpetual dilemma

Which is of no use to me.

Oh, shut up! You self indulgent woman!

Who gave you the right to react to injustice?

Who gave you the right to break out of being submissive?

That’s what started this. Remember?

No, you don’t, because you weren’t there!

So why is your perception clearer?

More rational, yes, but then why wouldn’t it be?

You are not living here amidst this disharmony,

You’re not in this hellish apocalyptic mess,

This burnt up scene.

Don’t scream, be quiet, calm, meditative, serene,

In the face of torment, it’s no more than a dream.

Easy for you to say you are not reactionary,

If someone hit you would you calmly declare everything was OK?

I’ll wait for the day you’re in that position

And I’ll tell you it’s easy, that you simply ignore it.

Hah, It’s my fault though, you’ve agreed with the deepest wound,

Why when I talk is it dismissed so that idle chatter resumes?

Infantile, imaginary, inaccurate and stressed,

A year from now you won’t care

How do you know that then?
I beg you please share

Your infinite wisdom of my own lived-in prison.

My therapist tells tales of a complex condition

And I’ll fade silently with my endless collection

Of painful memory

Which hurts by the way

As a punch would punch,

Which I conjure so clearly

And I have a hunch

That a year from now I will not miraculously emerge

Unaffected and with self-respect latently surge.

I will suffer the heartache and confusion

of wondering why the target gets chosen

and I may have deserved,

I may get what serves me,

I may sit silently thinking I’m lifeless and empty.

I would never have a baby

Because I am broken

And I’m not her/e any more

Because I am broken.

There are so many scores

To settle which won’t ever be corrected.

You’ll stay below and beneath,

You will be further victimised,

Can’t watch the television or brush your teeth

Without thinking that’s what happened,

The story of this lived-in lie.

I’m no longer human,

I’m outside of myself and what is generally accepted,

What’s known to be true and is tried and is tested.

Neither male nor female, good or bad, big or small or

This or that,

Neither an alien nor a person

But just ego death when it lies dead, flat on its back.

No, not identifying, instead separate and whole,

Not whole in myself unless death is the goal.

It will make you uncomfortable,

I know it did me

Becoming infected with rage by proximity.

 

Tokyo Clear Crystal Coke (Plunderphonics)

 

On this still night

the sky is Tokyo clear, Crystal Coke.

The tangerine sheen of

calcite under the lamplight,

The world submerged in agua

looks like vaporwave washed in watercolour.

It’s shiny, it’s

fairy liquid,

All real but kind of insipid.

Fresh as spearmint taste,

My senses are heightened

and I can maintain this

piercing vision in sensory bliss.

Tried to break me down

but I’m high, 

floating

heavenly upwards,

soaring through sky.

Spending money like a drug dealer I buy

jewellery. Wearing

amethysts and tigers eye.

The reflective windows gleamed

in cars which were newly cleaned,

the air smells so much of oxygen.

I know that I can breathe again.

 

 

Witness

 

Hey look! It’s my handler,

Was that a joke? You can’t confer.

You know you’re in for a ride when

The other one can’t laugh at it or see it

From your side

And why would I feel sorry for that face-fuck?

Piddling around like Jemima fucking puddle-duck.

Hungry ghosts who rule the most

Will grab you while you glow

Onto parasitic host, you know?

Chimaera symbiosis. But it’s you who

needs this. Your prize, your

predatory boast. All lies. I’m not your host.

Look, on the other side of the street.

It’s still light-look, look what they took from me.

Look, I wanted so much just to lean over and say

Don’t believe ‘em,

Don’t listen to him.

Look, could you believe this?

I’m the same

But hey,

I’ll give myself away.

Broken records, filler words,

Um…so…OK

I couldn’t see between the lies,

Athene Noctua clouding not just mine, but all our eyes.

Not only here but on a societal level,

Subliminal midsummer nights juice

Sprayed into our own doused marbles.

And though I hate him,

Every time I see him I just can’t get even,

Can’t berate him.

He’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen,

He is a shard of glass, extreme.

I knew he’d make me bleed,

Every woman adores a fascist,{14}

Well, from my own perspective it was a need.

My cold is good and priceless

But all the world and all my fellow soldiers

Will be rooting for Mr Fearless to fight this

fight against our own inner demons.

Shooting through the wind it blows,

Our sweet death is here,

‘Cause we secretly long for it to be near

But it was already in our breath, my dear.

Welcome to my torture chamber,

You thought it was a game, a gas,

Hypothetical, with just pen and paper

Though in his head it’s real for sure.

And he owns me ‘cause its easy.

Cocaine. Snuff. DMT. Hit me.

He’s my enemy

And I detest him

Until I’m up close and I realise how much

I’m a victim of his verbatim.

To the terror of beauty as something

which could kill.

It’s the closest high-definition you’ll ever feel.

He can’t even love but does that

matter, make it better?

Does that make mines sweeter or greater?

This insanity can’t cure

The fascination which he set up so carefully,

His pre-planned violent lure

Borne from his sadistic intelligence.

It’s the brilliance of bully.

I make it so I can break it

But he’s fast and I’m feather and

He’ll take it, whatever.

That’s the thing, he looks so sad

Like an orphaned puppy that knows it behaved bad.

I can only run away,

There’s nothing to be done.

I wish you would heal over

But the world doesn’t work this way,

Since when does the moon eclipse the sun?

 

Self Medicating

 

I said understand me but

No, they wouldn’t

But I see too much and

Maybe they shouldn’t.

The city lights are bright

And now I’m fluent.

My flow is on show. Stop. OK, go-

I want it to hurt when I touch,

It’s all gone too far,

It’s a little too much.

I felt it all,

The soft comforting lull.

I wrote poetry,

The only crutch for when I fall.

 

Anonymous/Nameless

 

Faceless woman,

That one didn’t want a body, he wanted me.

He didn’t want a name, he wanted she.

 

My name is pur, my name is martyr,

My name is Diana or call me her.

My name is silence in the harbour.

My name is blocked.

Angel with trigger cocked.

Fallen but still with wings,

Flying and full of what she sings.

Soul contract. Teaching teachers.

That’s a pact. Preaching preachers.

I’ll get higher so I’ll see you after

Or maybe not,

Stuck in the rafter.

 

Depleted and Depressed

 

I know I’m not supposed to like it,

Not supposed to want it

But look at the bad apple shining red,

Don’t push the button or you’re dead.

That flame will set afire

By an assassin who fled whilst still on hire.

That power play,

You look me in the eye directly.

Maybe I was the only one who could know

But I don’t kid myself into thinking

I’m the only one you’ll show.

I saw your pain

Even behind the game.

I wish there was something I could do

Or something I could say.

So tiring when you’re sat alone wondering

Who is the next worthless waste of time,

Nobody will agree when you’re so out of line.

Nobody will see your intelligence,

So superior, so full of wit.

You’re clever, yes, I get it.

Your features are fine.

The ill genius. A sponge absorbs

Without empathy in the way.

You’re not shielded, just empty

Even though you hid somewhere

Dark and lonesome and lacking.

Knowledge is power

But you’ll find the aftertaste is sour.

Just another textbook sociopath,{15}

A villain who is irritable and bored.

See through that and face your wrath,

We were similar even before

Your cherry-picking, even before

Your carefully planned sword

Cutting off what didn’t fit,

I’ll take your word

Or lack of it

But prior to this, there were still the matching bits,

Tell me if I’m wrong.

I wish you were real so that I could save you,

I wish your motives were good and true.

I wish youth’s blade didn’t slice you from your soul,

One day you’ll meet it again,

Only then you’ll be whole.

 

Soft Grunge Porn

 

Hey sucker,

If I’m kurt then you’re Courtney.

A sacrifice,

Guess what?

You hurt me.

I hope that gives you something to get off to,

The illusion of dominance will always do,

It’s the closest you’ll get to happy,

Come to think that must be somewhat crappy.

 

Something to do with Spring.

 

I’m how old now?

Living in the aftermath of torture, disaster,

Still in amongst psychic warfare.

I can’t let the light of spring carry me too readily,

I know the dangers of comfort and

The world is now pondering great conflict.

Politically we are on rocky ground

And the planet is in danger as it spins around.

The sun is carrying you soft

But there are some highly pressing matters aloft.

 

A Blank in my Memory Bank

 

The villagers were unaware of

What had happened over there,

Did it scare you?

When I got too close to what was true?

The guessing game set up to

Test me out,

To observe the test subject on what they’d do,

What’s that about?

Did I deserve what I went through?

Standing and watching over exhibit A,

Why not take me aside?

Ask what’s going on,

You knew I wasn’t OK.

Thought someone else must see this,

In white coats,

What did I miss?

As though they were blinded too

Or did it all make sense to you?

I was missing a screw,

His suggestive hiss,

Eyed me as though it could have been a few,

Wow. What a dis.

Absent-mindedly watching,

Wishing I knew how much was true.

The geometric patterns I hallucinate

And then see through.

Experimental gas lights were making me blink

When my only ally said things that still made me think

Other folk must be able to link

This stuff back to its origin,

But if not for him

I’d have no idea.

The veil was so thin.

 

 

The Game{16}

 

Little Courtney Love

Breakable

Kinder whore

Child’s eyes filled with wonder

A stack of paper cards

Too trusting, yes

But then

You might as well be holding a bullseye

Driving a bulldozer

Red signposted target

Should have never let it touch my

Venus in cancer

My full cup of tarot heart

Won’t let anyone twist it again

 

Well, we are both artists

Some pick up a paintbrush

Some pick up a pen

Some just pick up

 

With the dominant right brain

To the extreme

Such a pain

Makes you want to scream

The information overload

The vivid dreams

But I’m good (you’re evil)

I’m not tainted, I’m pure

(you’re nodding)

But I’m doubting

Are you sure?

I can read what you’re thinking

I know it all

Making girls angry

Is your musical score

Does that pull your trigger?

Well then,

My job here is done

Must be the tiniest gun in my finger and thumb

 

 

 

Miss Atkinson

 

Miss Atkinson,

7th of July

What a white witch am I?

The white part was a lie.

Hooded lids cast over her cruel, indifferent eyes.

Baby sister waves through the window display,

Only smile I have seen,

The happiest part of my day.

She casts her shout up above my head,

Ten years old, hope is already dead.

End of the line,

Get back in your place.

The lifeless null of her lithium face.

 

Lady, Die

 

Constant dissociative state,

Nymph like naiad is a

Sanpuku virgin ready to bate.

Eyes speak all the words she can’t say,

Could have her done with by the end of the day

But only after the blue line,

Make sure a baby’s on display

Before we run out of time.

It’s a royal way to live out your duty,

Sipping on jasmine tea languidly.

Captured but out of work,

No more use for that one when

She’s out of control,

She’s gone quite berzerk.

His Stepford robot-toy

Will malfunction,

Darling, they forced you

Into that position.

His spoilt and crude streak,

I’d give it a week.

Now all you symbolise

With your big moony eyes,

Another preposterous theory,

There’s only one query:

Where did her waif body go

As the light switched off

At the end of the show?

Dimmer switches down,

Strobe striking her crown.

Trample over mother nature,

Her humble gold halo.

Keep the cameras off though,

Whispers hushed on the down-low.

What is the truth?

Does anyone know?

 

 

 

 

 

Dr Faustus (Fuck you Bush){17}

 

Fuck you

Dr Faustus,

You’ll go to hell for what you do.

Knowledge is power.

Injurious insanity is ours.

When the strongest ties get cut.

I’ve ripped the knot,

Not normally capable of harm but

Well, I’ve lost the plot.

Your hands out but empty,

I won’t give you any more of what I’ve got.

You can no longer tempt me

With your verbose rot.

It comes a dark hour

My gluttonous, full- filled master (tic).

Did you want me to be submissive

Damsel of disaster? (tock).

I’ll own that myself,

Thanks very much.

I’d rather go cold

Than live by your touch.

 

 

Sarah Michelle Gellar

 

What kind of girl carries a knife

Decorated with flowers?

The kind who’ll make you fend for your life,

Sicko.

They’ll trick you

To make you believe

They really do feel.

It’s all thought out,

Means to an end.

Got a plan up your sleeve

Cause I can’t conceive,

No, I didn’t doubt.

Don’t wear it on your sleeve

And don’t ever shout.

Impossible to deceive,

Now don’t test me out.

My own self is defence,

Committed and calculated,

Cruellest offence.

You’re at a dead end.

Don’t underestimate the lengths I’ll go to.

Don’t expect anything less than the worst

With regards to what I would do.

I’ll literally come after you if I see you about,

I promise that is true,

Let that threat echo throughout.

 

Hook ’er

 

Slave training?

You disgusting, filthy dick.

Blatantly disgusting, how sick.

The only way you can cope,

Drag her round on a rope.

No one would want you as you really are,

Fractured and feeble

And scary but scarred.

If it had made you vulnerable…

It’s no choice how we end up.

I’m sorry about that,