Fall Further

This is a poem about my own suffering, and a valueable lesson, I wonder if you can find it. This poem is the twin of Falling Further, a longer version. This is the short one.

I smile in denial as the bile drips down my face

Memories exist inside my eyes that cannot be erased

I can laugh at death and bleed my last breath until the sun dries my suicide

I eat the suffering from my soul with a warm bowl of a maelstrom of the hatred I’ve known

 

Invincible, throbbing bright at midnight

Damage me, ravage me, feel my savage being biting on your sanity, severing humanity, manifesting your manufactured last tragedy

A molesting pestilence everlasting, masking the rotting flesh in my insides open jaws of bones wide will colonize and swallow you

Eating through your fortitude, slowly ruining you, pierce through your words with the slaughterer’s truth

 

Understand the demand to butchered, people are crooked martyrs, wicked wicker men heartless, liquid flame sparks within them, ready to set flames their mortal lives and be full of worms for eternity for their murdering sins

Feel the sickness burning like a bonfire of disease, contagious flaming desire, feel it saw through you with its eye blinder than silence, divide you, cut you into bite-sized pieces of weakness, keep you hushed quiet within the dimly lit riot, secret

Speak your words rotting and stay heard over the screams of torment codling the frail things, and the cries of lust that rain on me like heavenly sun beams, rust under the hate of tomorrow, feed your soul with the cuffs of sorrow

Let the anger fill your marrow like the remains of a pharaoh buried in the cold sands sprawled around like soundless children on the playgrounds like a burial mound broken

 

Hear the sound of torture, live for the moment, die for a second, never learn your lesson, reach up for heaven, and sink down through the blood red resin, another piece for my collection

Every effort neglected, taste the disrespect and, spit it back at the pack of animalistic rats to feed on your lies, living through your sides, come out and rise from your body left behind, mining at the bones in your spine

Hide under the lives of others, betray your dismayed brothers, crumble under the rumble of the devil’s thunder, sunder as you blunder rendered from your clever hatred, slowly now, the demons are patient

Slumber like the ancients, under the sombre sunburns of the Earth Mother bowels, while you howl like a coward, add to the number of the powerless dismembered unremembered, pretend to be better, let your bones clutter your cell, break under the weight of a feather, fall further than hell

 

Present your weathered self, incandescent in prevalence of the heavenless remember it, think back to your present and grasp at your past, mask your insanity, gesture at your humanity

But memories exist inside your eyes that cannot be erased

You can laugh at death and bleed your last breath until the sun dries on your homicide

So eat the suffering from your soul with a warm bowl of a maelstrom of the hatred you’ve known

 

Be reborn from the feeling, blood that drips from the ceiling, you will never heal again, nothing real here

So smile in denial as the bile drips past onto the tile floor wasted

And grace me with your hatred

I see it painted on your face, fall further, in your hate, eat your just desserts from your plate

 

Because it’s not too late to be recreated, to become a monster

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[Ghost writer]

very interesting, was it about depression and self harm? Cause that's what I got, and was the lesson you learned to live with a bad mistake? I get that, I think everyone reaches that point in life, sometimes more than once.

[wordman]

jack i see a lot of potential in your writing,a novel,a book even a movie or two