Honesty is overrated

Some thoughts are best kept silent.
Some words when uttered, only cause fear and worry.
This was not my intention.

The dark shadows who taunt me
belong hidden behind doors, for me to struggle
and triumph over or crumple before - alone.

I should not have opened the doors and
let them into the light
to grow, to breed - gaining strength
amongst their allies.

I went for a walk to shake away their grips,
but I feel them lingering - clutching to my ankles.
Perhaps I'll never shake myself free of them
and I must accept a lifelong struggle with these morose ghouls.
Focussing on them only gives them fuel with which
to burn. me and everyone.

Honesty at long last . . . at all costs. (Revival)

I thought of cutting myself
for the first time in
almost 7 years.
and it scares me
because I could almost convince myself
to pick up that knife
and rub it gently across my wrist
till the red comes forth.

and what scares me most, is that I can't think of
a reason for this.
unlike in the past,
I am
I am content in my life.
nothing I would really change (except perhaps location).
I should be happy.
I am happy
most of the time.
but not right now.
Actually, that's a lie.
What's worse is, I am happy. I am happy right now and still . . .
right now, what would make me smile
is my blood seeping from small cuts across my arms,
onto a knife grasped tightly in my hand.
I have the strength to resist
for now,
but how long will this strength last?
oh god, what is wrong with me?

honesty at long last . . . at all costs.

Apparently not. I never thought I would do this, but I had to delete this post.
I should never have published it.

Death becomes me.

and it comes again.
after so long.
years and years i have kept it at bay,
but yet it is (has been) a part of me. for so long.
I think, something is wrong with me.

I fantasize about my death
be it drowning,
falling,
disease,
loss of blood.
out of (or in) my control.

I dream of:

Water rising up, above my head
as i sink to the bottom,
deeper and deeper.
it caresses my skin as
i slip below the depths.
and no one
no one will find me here.

I slip off a cliff,
and the ground rapidly approaches me.
The greeness of the grass - the trees.
and i long to join the earth and become part
of this beauty.
a part of this world.
If I just reach out my hand, i could touch the
soil rushing toward me.
and then my end will be the beginning of something new.
something else.

I collapse on the ground, no energy,
nothing left of me.
my hair slips between my fingers
and it's gone.
all gone.
I'm bald, and naked, and crying.
It creeps along my veins and there is no escape.
a couple days, and it will be all over.
the laughter, the tears, all gone.
I no longer have the strength to fight this.

The blood seeps from my wounds,
seeps into the earth around my lifeless body.
the brown soil turns red.
I swim in seas of red.
and it's all gone.
I'm far gone
from here.

It's all over. for now.

The romanticism of death. It's all I have.
All I am.

Sorrows and Regrets

It didn't use to be like.
I didn't use to be this bad.
. . .
so similar.
My writing style - the quality -
has decreased as of late.
it may be because i seem to be
incapable of writing while not
under the influence of my red mistress.
less thought into each word, each piece, each punctuation,
and eventually,
all my work has become like free verse.

When will i write for real again?
with real emotion, and feeling, and thought?
i've lost it.
it has escaped me. whatever talent (hah) i ever
possessed has left me.
without a "goodbye"
and i struggle (with great effort)
to breathe life into my work again.

It's gone. long gone.
and i apologize
for these trespasses on your time.
these . . .
useless
worthless
words.

Imagining Darkness

Standing here as I feel your hand slip from my grasp.
and I am alone.
Again.
The first time in years.

Black clouds encompass my sky.
I search through them, to find some light.

. . .

But, there is none.
Darkness surrounds me.
The sun - the stars, have hidden themselves
amongst the encapsulating blackness.
and the light

. . .

there is none.

my eyelids shut tight (out of disbelief).
yet when i try to pry them open,
they remain shut.
(darkness forever).
darkness is all I'll ever know now.
without you.

Red liquid runs between my lips (in an attempt
to comfort me) but nothing is the same.
I am blind without the light.
I call out (cry out) for its return,
but it is gone - too far gone - to hear me.

Alone, alone, alone.

The water rises above my lips; above my eyes.
I cannot see the abyss around me.
The water comforts me and eases my pain.
I feel weightless.
As I sink into the water's waiting arms,
I think, "at least I am not alone anymore."

Winter woes

I hate winter.

The wrathful wintry winds leave me
bitter and dry.
My skin itches and my lips keep splitting.
My nails are jagged and worn.
Each day when I step outside,
the frigid wind blowing against my cheeks
feels like a slap across my face.
It burns. It stings.
The cold attacks my legs through my pants (no matter how thick)
and I imagine thousands of sharp nails digging into my skin
(storming along my veins) would hurt less than this.

My montrously long scarf (wrapped thrice 'round my neck and face) should be able to protect me from the chill - but no - oh no - the arctic weather seeps through penetrating all clothing layers till it numbs the skin hiding beneath.

Just go away.
I wish it could
be summertime
every day.