Murder/ Suicide

Perhaps a bit graphic....

The hysterical laugh

Towards me and at me

It won’t stop.

I watch it

And it won’t stop

And I’m ablaze

And it won’t stop

And I scream

 

And it won’t stop

Laughing at me.

Red droplets

In a random pattern

Across the cracked mirror

In the sink

On the wall

On the floor.

 

Darker where the layer is thin

Drying.

Shiny crimson in front of my feet.

Splinters of bone

Tiny

White

Only some places pink

Or red.

 

Some grey matter

I can’t recognise

As anything.

But I know it’s the thoughts.

Liquid

Sticky

Spilled on linoleum.

And it won’t stop.

 

It is echoing

Bouncing off the walls

Ringing in my ears

And time

– Time means nothing.

It’s just the sound the clock makes

When I lift it to my ear

And it sounds nothing like laughter.

 

But it won’t stop, and

I hold my hands over my ears, and

I can hear, and

It’s my pu-pulse

Pu-pulse

Pu-pulse, and

It’s alive, and

The laughter is not.

 

But still it won’t stop

still I can hear it.

It’s an animal

Wild

And cruel

And relentless

And it won’t stop.

And it’s inside me

 

But when I close my mind

All I can hear

Is my

Pu-pulse

Pu-pulse

Pu-pulse.

And I scream

And there it is again.

The la-laugh, la-laugh, la-laugh

 

Like cold steel

To my head

In my hair.

An itch

Too old to be remembered.

And then it stops

And poor Yorick

And it stops.

 

But only for now.

 

Author's Note

I hardly ever write poetry, so consider me more or less new to the genre... But feel free to ciritique!
(this started out as a story, but it sounded so poem-like that I decided to give it a try)

Reviews

[~angelalala~]

this is very creative & unique. i love it. i love the repition of the laughter, the way you described "pupulse" is brilliant. it makes the insanity come alive to the one reading it. & i love the dark subject of the poem. great write.