Tired.

Unfinished. I'd like suggestions on an ending.

And sometimes, it just gets old.

Falling to the floor,

going numb in all but the heart....

shivering, hugging the

toilet bowl for fear of regurgitation.

 

My mind is so tired with dealing with

all this stupid s**t.

Jagged fingernails rake the flesh of my

neck, edging my mind

away from this hellhole you call life?

 

It's freezing down here... I think of who

will find me,

when I finally slip through life's unkempt

claws, and into the

pit of cold, consuming fate that loves me.

 

Oh yes, the bottles lie empty, strewn across

the white abyss of

this clean, odd setting. Ironic. White and pure

is it, with my dark and cloudy

soul to contrast against its faint angelic portrait.

 

Pills are thrown away, for who am I to accept

the "help"? To be drugged

and sedated so these a******s don't have to deal

with me anymore?

Who says they don't have to deal with s**t, too?

 

My lips move, and no words escape to explain

this nasty hate that nothing

can ever compensate, nothing can fix or dull

or dim or nudge from

a dusty canvas harboring anger in my soul.

 

I try to move and rip the scab off of my soul,

to allow it to heal again...

and be ripped clean, and turned into a scar.

But nothing comes up

but the vile and festering grief I lock inside.

 

I flush the toilet with the last of my energy,

and ever so softly lean against

the cabinet... I lean too hard upon it, much like

I've done to every other rock

that has ever been supplied in this f*****g life...

 

It tears from the hinges, a horrific screech mirroring

the sadness within, the coldness

in the eyes of my face. And it crashes onto my head,

trapping me once again to the cold,

linoleum floor never thought twice about.

 

 

Author's Note

True story, written in present tense but during the aftermath. This happens quite a bit, and sometimes more intense and heartrending... Suggestions.

Reviews

[Undying Glory]

wow, this sure is strong stuff, and the fact that this is true makes that even stronger. the stanzas are gripping and reach deep down inside.
"It tears from the hinges, a horrific screech mirroring
the sadness within, the coldness
in the eyes of my face. And it crashes onto my head,
trapping me once again to the cold,
linoleum floor never thought twice about."
great words!!

[Kena Dawn Augustine]

Okay Death Row, you are one of my favorite on this site. I love the raw nature of your poetry, how it flows. You write from your heart, and I can feel your emotion. I write the same way. I almost experienced what you went through.

[RTB]

true stories are always the best written because u feel the emotion behind it good job :)

[Marie Harrison]

Brilliant write. But it's your story, we can't give you an ending. That would ruin the whole story, because the story is yours. You hold the power to craft the ending. I can't wait to see what ending you craft. Will you let me know when you to?

[Jonathan Ballam]

I loved the honesty with which this poem was written. Very brutal, and sometimes even an uncomfortable read, but moving nonetheless.

I like the prose-y feel that this poem display, very unusual I might add!