Put the gun in my mouth again and taste the cold familiar steel
I love the feeling that runs through my body when I put my finger on the trigger
A ripple of ecstasy runs across my skin from head to toe producing the most marvelous goose bumps
Ahhh now that’s a fuzzy feeling I know only to well
It’s the feeling of hope
Of potential
Of the possibility that once I pull that trigger I will finally be able to feel again
That for at least one moment before it all fades away things will be real again
At least it can’t remain as it is
That’s what I tell myself at least
I forget that after the blank out is always the awakening, the rebirth, the inevitable return back to this fucking cold blue rock.
The hard cement of this paved alley is my ally and lover
How many nights have I spent nuzzling up against this pavement?
Wallowing in her frigid embrace searching for solace
The stark hard reality of the street reminds me of my own callous nature
This cement knows me, fucks me, loves me
It’s tasted my blood and tears and yet it still remains faithful
Huddled in a cozy corner of Hell I settle in for a long night
But I know damn well that pretty soon this fucking city won’t even exist anymore
Nothing will
Did it ever?
Does anything exist outside of my own mind?
Did I make it all up?
If so I want to wake the fuck up right now!
Id like another shot at creation please
I fucked up this time
At least when it came to my own story
I would like to rewrite it with a better ending
I guess it must have been a short story
I never did have the patience to write a novel
Haha, there now, it’s not so hard to laugh with a gun in your mouth
Must be careful though, wouldn’t want to prematurely pull the trigger
No, no, must wait until the perfect moment
I have to get everything out of this experience while I still can
Maximum utility of this moment
Every junkie knows the highest point of the fix is right before the injection
It’s the anticipation and the rush of a coming surge of sweet death
It’s the fucking knowledge that I’m killing myself and no one can do a damn thing about it
Not even God
It may very well be my last, wouldn’t want to spoil it just yet
It’s almost time though
I can hear the birds chirping
Reminding me
“He cometh”
Therefore I must depart
Couldn’t stand to look Him face to face
I don’t know what I’m liable to say
I think
If I stay in its radius much longer it will overtake me and than I will be forced to become the Light in order to exist at all
Like fucking Tetsuo
I can’t remain myself any longer now that I have been exposed to the truth
I’ve been staring at the sun so long I have become blind to any other path
No, no, if I run into the darkness I can remain myself for a bit longer
The Devil told me so
She whispered the truth into my ears every night as I slept
I was promised that I would be able to keep my ego
So long as I returned to her
And here I am
Waiting for her to show up for our date
She’s never late, I’m sure she’s here right now
Waiting, watching, for the perfect moment to collect on my debt
It’s a price that I was willing to pay
Countless nights I kissed death and lived to tell the tale
I knew this final evening would come eventually
I chose to ignore it but I knew there was no escape from this ending
I’m fucking Hamlet and the final act is approaching, nothing left to do but play out my role and watch the curtain fall
Don’t worry Satan I promise not to disappoint
I won’t leave you waiting for much longer
Just give me this one moment, let it stretch out across eternity like the rays of light streaming from the distant stars that I am gazing up at
There is no doubt, there is no faith
All that is left is a choice, a choice that I made long before I put the gun into my mouth
I’ve already made my decision
I love you all but its better this way
Funny how now that my brain is sprayed out against the graffiti laced wall behind me everything starts to make so much more sense
If only they could all see
Such a beautiful night after all
3 comments:
If writing and posting these helps you even the smallest bit, keep doing so, and don't even worry about not posting ridiculous bullshit like the rest of us. Even if I don't always comment on them, I read all of the poems you post, and I'm pretty sure everyone else does too. Most of the time I'm not really sure how to respond in a useful way, because I know that when it come to writing, being patted on the head and told "good job" isn't really helpful without specifics, and it's often hard for me to pinpoint the specifics because my brain just doesn't work that way. I also know that some things just need to be written because they can't be bottled up anymore or as an attempt to hit bottom and come back up again. A lot of the things you write make me a little uncomfortable, not just because they're dark but because they remind me of things I've written in the past and the feelings that made me write them. But I think the fact that your poems can make me feel that way shows that there is a power in them. Keep writing, and know that whether or not I say anything I will be reading and considering, and I hope that helps in some small way.
Hell I haven't posted anything in like a week or so anyways
It does help guys. Thanks a lot. I dont need anyone to respond to my posts. Like you mentioned, its just good to get it out and off my chest. So some of it really sucks, and constructive criticism isnt as important as just getting it out of me. Its cool that you get that. If you ever want to critique my poetry, even the really raw ones, thats cool too. Hey out of a rant could just come some great poetry one day! I mean the emotion is there for sure. I dont think anyone would argue against that.
In addition I really feel so much better getting it out there. But I have more to say on that on another post that most of you will have already read by now. Haha. Just thanks for the support yall. Its just a poem. Feels so great to know that now!
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