suicide

Wake up from what seemed
So much like my own
Vivid rushed reality,
To a sneaky thought of you.

Look at my phone,
I know it’s not you.
I convince myself
I’m not thinking of you.

Self-induced REM – eyes squeezed shut,
Detaining images, forcing this moment;
To last a little longer, pass a little slower.
To picture your hair and your eyes,
Your pride and your smile.

Those hands that are poetry.
Your voice and your cruelty.
And I convince myself
I don’t love you at all.

***

Real life’s a-calling;
Shower and sustenance.
All the while conscious,
you’re not on my mind.

Not haunting me
With that disdainful eye.
Those excruciating words
Don’t wreck and crucify.

Your casting me away is not judicial murder.
Your pity is not
My guilty pleasure.
I can do without you
And your arrogant belittling.

And then…

I don’t feel my insides lurch
When that familiar buzzing begins,
And I see your name flash in my palm –
Hello, how are you, I’ll see you later.

***

The sun is up.
I walk out the door.
I’ve convinced myself
You’re the only thing I need.

judas

I trusted you.
***
They said I was young,
They said I was special.
Said I had promise,
Untapped potential.
You saw something else.
You saw the darkness.
The beasts and the serpents,
That lurked in my shadow.
I told you to leave,
I told you I couldn’t.
Disquiet and circumvention
Are all I have to give.
***
Petitions. Arguments. Evidence.
A vow.
Determined, you stayed.
Uncertain, I swayed.
***
Arms and voices,
Raised then broken.
We can fix this. We can fix this.
Bare feet among shards.
Drip, drop, drip, drop.
Tears here, blood there.
Hearts like glass.
Souls like rocks.
Love – a mystery,
An elaborate hoax.
***
I trusted you.
You betrayed me.
***
Betrayed, deceived,
Stripped bare my soul.
Lamb to the slaughter,
Hoodwinked and accused.
A monster, you said.
A coward, they said.
Voiceless and braindead,
I’m sorry, I said.
***

You are no Judas.
I betrayed me.

soul container

Looking down;
Cheaply painted toes,
The curl betraying apprehension.
Calloused heels have long accepted
Their lowly place in the world.

***

Scarred shins, sore knees.
Tired from carrying the weight of Shame.
Stomach painfully aware of its emptiness.
Hope and loss. Butterflies and knots.
Breasts. Heads hung in embarrassment.

***

Thirty years of neglect and hate.

***

Desperate scratch marks and blood stains left
Around the empty hole where a heart used to live.
A bloody trail viciously revealing
Its failed escape. How far can you run?
You now sit precarious on a sleeve.

***

Unwanted and exposed,
Available to abuse.
Pale fingers and palms
Hold tightly the ends,
Trying in vain to hide you.

***

Thirty years of pain and irreverence.

***

Shoulders upright – fake bravado,
Knows Atlas’ pain, has shrugged aplenty.
Putting on a show as they ceremoniously hold
The crown of a remorseful monarch.
The mind discerning – quiet and clinical.

***

Your body is a temple, they said.
A feeble body weakens the mind.
It is your only home.
This vessel that holds your most precious possession,
You have shunned. Left it out to rot.

***

Thirty years.

***

ablution

The water stings.

***
Slowly soaking hair and brain.
Flowing down to places
you want to forget.
Hot. Cold.
Burn. Burn.
The whirlpool forming at your feet
looks impossibly clear.
No sign of the muck
You brought in, so hopeful.
So it doesn’t wash away guilt?!
You should have known, Silly.
***

You should have known.

know thy weakness

Humans are frail.
Rapt in weakness.
Their need for validation
Their pathetic vulnerability.

So easy to hate.
The world,
Its people,
Yourself.

When will all your self-awareness turn
Into the good it’s meant to be?

When you allow it.

Allow it to change you.
Your mind,
Your spirit,
Your soul.

Change You. Kill You.
Your mind,
Your spirit,
Your soul.

Make you one among them.
The Normals.
The Worldly.
The Wise.

A drone –
Yes.
But a drone with a smile.

A drone that sleeps well.
No guilt,
No darkness.
No dangerously dangerous
Self-awareness.

specimen

Whom do you talk to?
Does anybody know how you feel?
Would anybody care?
Would they really want to know
that you’re not OK?

… … …

You feel lonely by yourself,
you feel lonesome in a crowd.
When did the world turn
into this really long exchange
of strictly irrelevant small talk,
you wonder.
There isn’t one person – among those you love
or hate,
or know,
to whom you could go –
talk about how you feel,
confident they’d understand.

Or care.

Maybe just hear you – no judgment.

… … …

Or anything.

… … …

And then a time comes,
when it’s bigger than you.
When it’s out there in the open
For everyone to see.
When the silence in your heart is louder
than the thoughts in your head,
When darkness has taken you.
By force. Hard.
Left you for dead.
Your strong limbs won’t keep you
from drowning anymore.

… … …

NOW you talk.
There’s a gun to your head.
To someone who just might
pretend to care.
A few minutes, some empty sounds
and a couch to lie down on.
At an intimidating price.
Someone
who effortlessly makes you feel
much more alone
than you already knew you were.

A SPECIMEN.