Headspace

I stands there next to They while Us and Me go off to play. The Voices shout so loud and say nothing at all while It keeps the Silence at bay.

Standing upon that static shore within that grey cacophony I found my soul split a part and rendered incomplete.

My soul, it floats upon that screaming sea while it whispers little promises to They and Us and all of Me, asking all those pieces to find the person I was meant to be but never was, and never found split apart and torn asunder the pieces shattered on the ground.

Lost in that screaming sea with that static shore with nothing but whispers to listen for.

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Symphony of Self

Maybe the burning in my skull would stop and the words would pause for a time.

The strings that pulls my soul apart would grow lax and then my life would once again be mine.

This stained painted glass of a fragmented self, colored to mix the matching pains. To fit with pieces beside and not a single one the same.

A convoluted cacophony of violence and agony, a chorus of a broken soul, rendered still and un-moving, a symphony of self, a song of me,  these words are what they show, in all my hubris and twisted glory.

Melancholy Sea

Shifting shades of seafoam green form the melacholy tides that wash over me.

I cannot undo this sorrowful sea, these darkened tides that may undo me.

I cannot see past the crashing waves or stormy skies that bar my way.

My vessel is failing, lost at sea, adrift in life and weary. Falling down, down to deep that to that silent abyss that promises sleep.

Final Friend (Warning: Deals With Suicide)

I see the shadows on the wall, to think I almost had it all. I found my path, set the date to see success and keep my friends, to have a family, a life with gifts to give.

To think I let it go, for that darkness I saw behind, for the shadow my pride set upon my path. The darkness that blotted the light, hidden by arrogance.

I never met my success, I lost my friends to lies, my family broken apart while on this shattered ground I lie, my only date, my only fate the rope within my grip.

This twisted root which sees not my arrogance, never mind my pride, my sins it can hold, my grief it can bare while it robs me of breathe and blessed air.

My final partner, my last friend, this noose here within my hand, it judges not though I judge myself and see my hubris and my greed, and so, without anger and without rue, it’s myself I now set to hang.

I’ve burnt my bridges, wasted my skill, there is nothing left to life for me, but one last dance, without a partner I go, to defy the gravity that brought me so low.

Nothing that rises can stay within the air, all must fall, never fated to simply hang there.

As it stands my fall has happened, my life is done, so to those that remember, to those that might care.

I bid you adieu, and I’m sorry I failed.

I’m sorry the writing I was so fond of was the first stick upon my pyre, the spark that started the fire.

I apologize, for what it’s worth, to say goodbye in such a way is not what you deserve but I see nothing else left for me but this meeting with a rope a final dance upon air in sudden silence with nothing there, nothing but me.

Alone.

With not but my sins, my thoughts, and this rope for company.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Author’s Note~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I won’t say much here but I will say that I’m as fine as can be expected. This is a poem brought about due to late listening, ennui, and well, depression. However, a poem written is not a noose made.

As it stands however I will add that suicide for anyone contemplating it seriously, isn’t the path to go. I can quite honestly say that sticking around and finding a way out of the situation that leaves you so depressed is far preferable to simply ending it. If you don’t see a way out on your talk to someone, sometimes being to close to a thing means you miss the forest for the tree, you’re only seeing one path because you feel there is no other path.

Remember also there is the suicide prevention hotline, that’s not just something to call when you’re almost there and having second thoughts, if you’re having ANY serious thoughts, call and talk to them. They’re volunteers, it means they’re there because they DO care, and they can’t tell anyone what you say. I’ll admit, I’ve called a few times in the past, and it helped immensely just to talk to someone, to air my problems to someone who I didn’t have to worry about judging me.

Also remember, above all else, you’re not alone. It’s easy to assume that your problems are the worst things in the world because we see everything through the only view point we know, ours.

Other people can sympathize and help and are often quite more willing to do then one might expect when in this kind of situation. (I know it’s hard to believe other people care at times, I get there myself, but they do. Rare is the person who’s truly alone. And if you are truly alone, feel free to send me a message)

Also, just because it’s the internet and I don’t want anyone thinking otherwise, I am NOT a medical professional. Any advice I give is the advice of someone who cares and has experienced this, not the advice of a medical professional. If you feel you have depression, please, please see someone or talk about it with someone. (There that’s covered) Link for the site for the hotline down below, along with their number.

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/ – 1-800-273-8255

 

An Ember in The Dark

I inhale the curls of smoke as the fire warms my empty soul. The soot and ashes giving me something real, a destruction of sorts to hold.

It reminds me I’m alive, even as I know it lets Death take hold, the cold chill grip reminds me of my place, of this time, of my life, of this limited race.

I remember why to pick up my pace, to put one foot in front of the other, despite the rage, despite the pain, the lacking I feel inside.

I’m short on time, and burning fast, the candle’s flame never does last. So burning away some more, to let that feeling in, I soothe my troubled mind, before I delve the dark again.

Echoes & Currents/Wanderer’s Demon

Echoes and currents of thoughts and ideas, of dreams that died and words left unsaid.

The regrets that haunt my sleep and rattle around inside my head.

Ephemeral currents of sadness too deep, of happiness unknown, and this anger I keep.

It’s like a ghost on my shoulder, the demon that speaks, it provides unspeakable inspiration, yet the cost is too steep.

The exile is lonely, the wanderer is cold, I stumble through this night, and all I want…

All I want is a home.

I am Silent Within the Sound

I walked into the sound, cold lapping out my feet and silence all around.

I walked into the sound, it’s about at my waist now, my problems back at shore and silence all around as I walked that misty morn out into the sound.

The water calm, my heart is still, the sound surrounds, the waves above me now.

All I am is silence deep within the sound, no problems, no worries, my weight is back at shore.

I hope, those that knew me, might forgive me once more.