Emotional Suicide

Emotional suicide 

a poem by SJ Sinister

 

Bleeding thoughts seep from my soul

The binding has come loose.

Like pages of an ancient book,

A slipping from the noose.

 

No more, I'm sure, of anything,

Not even what I see.                      

Yet is this mindset I do know,

It’s from myself, I flee.

 

The gears grind in my troubled brain,

Deaf ringing in my ears.

No basis for my loathsome thoughts,

No substance for my fears.

 

This feeling I can’t comprehend,

My mind sways to and fro.

The more I try to understand,

The less, it seems, I know.

 

Outside a shell of flesh I stand,

Oblivious to my pain.

Prefer to stay detached this way,

Lest I might go insane.

 

And grasp I will, my consciousness,

Lay waste to nothing less.

Tis’ from this place I dare evolve,

Into a great abyss.

 

SJ Roebling © 2008  (Shirley Petrandis)

 

Reviews

[Bev]

Wow, this is the first poem from this site that really hit a spot, exactly how I feel. As if I penned it, bleeding from my own thoughts. Thanks for sharing.

[Pax Analog]

I was reading an anthology of tales called "Dark Love," -- apparently as a priming to read this. ;-) Seems that whether one thinks there's an "up,' or not, the primal tour is down, because we don't know anything till we know the psyche a bit, without judgment. This mortal life, after all, offers no solace in itself, and honest souls don't seek consolations, the papering-over of religions, for instance. Any good news has to be discovered cognitively, by unflinching descent into the abyss. I suspect good and bad, psychologically, are a matter of whether one grasps or accepts, and is fundamentally indifferent to the labels. Whether one thinks it's all downhill, or has a silver lining, it all starts with a detached acceptance of whatever one sees.