A sombre state of silken sorrow
Surrounds my sleeping soul,
Surreptitiously clinging onto folds
Of sunken eyes and slithering morrows.
A doubt.
A simmering, shimmering slender slice
Of teetering self-abuse;
Stirs up beneath my tremoring fingers
My hideous faces, and displaces
My senses slow, and coaxes them
Into a raging storm.
A storm that grows in form and fright,
And, akin to a tick in gurgling nights-
Shatters the moonlit dorm.
I visualise myself,
My dreams, my disillusionments
Everything I am,
And everything I think I am-
As a doleful dollop of coffee.
Stationary at skimming glance,
A circus of chaos at closer inspection.
A glaze metallic has smeared my heart
Like mouths on lazy mornings,
It carries a jarring taste of its own.
A taste of constant dwarfing
Of bouncing emotions; morbid scenes,
That make this bunch of patch-ups
A human being.
It feels like my satanic heart
Has popped out onto my cotton sleeves,
Broken, already, to shards;
And that, with its constant stabs at existence-
So listlessly beats.
One step over the other.
Mechanical.
Flailing its way to my wrists,
Where a knife is already poised
To serve a different purpose.
My sweat is relief washing over.
For twofold are its ends.
To remind my brain that I can feel,
And to soothe the consequence.
I feel a stench inedible
And watch, incredible, as 'myself'-
Everything that ever made me,
As pastel from an amateur painting-
Drips into the sink.
I will not feel, decisively,
And will continue to whim my audacities
Beyond the definite brink.
My hope is a sham, a mere comedy
Of weeping wretches wrought,
In a cosmic urge to blend right in
And still be singled out.
No matter what I try to do,
The glaze just won't disappear,
No matter how I twist my bones-
I'll never hold them dear.
My most trivial of daily chores
Now stem from hate and denial,
I feel like a stoic, senseless doll
Brought down to earth for trial.
I know this probably won't last long,
I know the dust shall pale;
But lying in bed, nihilist, nightkissed
That hope seldom prevails.
Forever seems the boulevard
Forever the ploughed-up gravel-
Forever the moonless road I walk
To greet the sleeping devil.
The beating heart, the pulsing hope
Are all but grains of lie;
For life shall strike; and death shall seem
Just another way to die.
And I choose death, for stifling breath
Is a choice that asks too much,
The blood is ripe, the night is raw-
My scabs are brown as fudge.
Together does my foot collapse
And my heart hops on my wrist,
Together do my feet kiss void,
And the knife burst endless bliss.
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Poetry[On hold] Key: |Straight Brackets| - Poetry. \Tilted Brackets/ - Passionate, Vaguely Poetic Prose or Free Verse. ~Wave Brackets~ - Poetry specifically between 1 and 3 sentences in length. ☆☆ For everyone, Who finds, Not in a graveyard or cretamorium...
