these are just a few poems. when i get motivated enough, ill send you a little bio or whatever. thanks:)
am i for real? are you
are the plastic people the ones of gingerbread cookie cutters that arehaving fun without me?
i dont like what ive become, what i am the things i do and they all love each other in their gingerbread world
where do i fit, why dont i know? they all do . .. i fit in some classification ALONE with noone else, forever in my little
stereotype.
too ugly for an affectionate eye, too awkward to knowwhen im me
and i cant write poetry words are not my forte, what the hell it?
when im happy i feel wrong what the hell was i thinking?
so i sit in my dark corner melancholic stupor feeling wrong
so where do i go, who do i tell? what do they say keeping my secrets from me. crying dry tears for someone, somewhere.
i have ocme to epidimize a great big nothing, a void to suck life from others
i could scream i would cry i should die
but i wont, cant
cause im a not, a void of nots of nothings
what the hell, words are not my forte not a fucking thing is i feel wrong, i am a mass of wrongness .. .
i fear that i will die alone my entire life has been spent in solitude far from the closeness for which i hunger maybe just as well-closeness could ruin me, in each instance that i have had my objective i have fucked it up and made it reject me. i do not know what to do-maybe it is me, it is certainly not them. this is all my fault. my own undoing was right in my face and i did nothing to stop it. now there is nothing, no one i am pinned beneath a boulder, a boulder of my own creation. it prevents me from loving, from living. just a feeling? just a cynicism? i may be crushed before i find out. am i damned? i am forever alone . . .
everynight i spend alone is filled with teardrops welling in my eyes, falling hotly upon my skin as if my brains were slowly coming out through my eyes
with great heaving sobs, i pity myself to sleep. and dream and dream and dream of what lies ahead seemingly farther than eternity . ..
it is my own eternity . . .every passing second seems grossly multiplied every fibre of my being cries out every now and then i take a blade to my arm. to see if i bleed real blood, to see if it tastes and smells of real blood. can i bleed? i have no nourishment, i am slowly wasting away.
like my tears which fall upon me like rain i am thinking of you. you soak my thoughts with images of what may happen. you coarse through me, burning with anticipation and come alive in my dreams. i am scared and anxious at the same time. when will the madness end? loose enough weight and you will die, they tell me . . so be it.
ALL THE IMPURITIES OF ME
i sit and stare at my reflection in the shiny razor blade in my hand. the pills taunt me in the other hand. both will empty out all the impurities in me. i take the pills first. i sit hunched over the toilet. the right hand grips the toilet seat while my other grasps the blade. i empty out most of my impurities into the once clean water that was used for other purposes. the blade cuts into my hand. i start to bleed. my crimson stained hand still holds onto the acute blade. my impurities still drain from within. my throat starts to burn but i let the fire burn inside me. the sudden surges of my inner inferno ceases. my near lifeless body glides off the toilet bowl. i am coughing up blood mixed with foam from all the pills my body induced. my glazed eyes stare non chalantly at the blood which drips and slides down the outer bowl. where are they going> have they found a better place other than where i have placed them> i guess so. i dream of that place. where people go to be better to improve, to die. i make several attempts to stand but i find crawling much simpler. l i drag my body to my room where i lay myself in the position of Jesus Christ when He reached his point of death. of course His was more catastrophic. mine will be as trivial as another homeless man found dead Ina smelly, rotten dumpster or a dead, run over skunk stinking up the car. while i lay here with candles enveloping my near dead soul i realize how much of my life is impure. i look at my bloody hand and see the places where the blood did not stain. it was place, white lifeless part of my body. as lifeless as myself. i pick up one of the candles some of the smoldering wax dribbles onto my hand. i sit and stare in complete befuddlement until the pain finally seeps in. the pain, how pure, how innocent. it cleans my dirty body. i reach for more candles. pour the wax on me. all over me. the singing hiss of my flesh dulls my screaming agony. i scream out, not in pain but in relief. my purification has begun. i peel the wax off my arms and legs. the wax peels off my skin taking off all the outer impurities it can. the pain, the sweet pain. patched of red form upon me. where my pores once were.twinkling blood oozes out. it does not try to find a better place. slowly i search for more wax. one of the candles . .. a spark ignites, a flicker happens. another option for my purification. a tiny flame dances like a torched spirit. i thrust my hand over the ever growing flame. the burning pain relieves me. my very flesh blackens and bleeds. it is becoming too unbearable to keep my hand there. i take my hand away from the soul burning flame. i look at my hand. the smell churns my stomach. i lean to my right and vomit some more. nothing comes out but bloody foam. i fall backwards close my eyes and fall asleep for awhile. when i awake i remember having a dream that everything was all right. my life was happy once again. it was all because i changed my mind about dying. i think i still have time to change. all i have to do is call an ambulance. wait! i cannot breathe. too much smoke, too hot. no! i left a candle burning. but i cannot die. i may still have a chance. the heat, too unbearable the yearning flame needs more oxygen. i need the phone, my skin i can feel it peeling bubbling. scream, i have to scream. oh God it is bright, please Lord, let me live. i CAN change oh Lord. the heat the pain. i cannot breathe my head so hot my lungs my eyes. Jesus Christ the pain .........
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