Death Wish

Had this on my phone for a while, ended up making it far longer, and improving it before sharing. This is horror poetry, so if you wish to read it, be prepared for that.

Death Wish

There’s a wound in the sky

A heart that pumps pierced by Elysium

One that sets shadows zigzagging battery acid on the cashmere of bright colours

It beats hollowed like a drum, and strums a guitar of strings that no guillotines could ever cut

Emotions so blue in the expansion dangling from the explosion of white spirit

The black gaseous mass cast shadowing that spirit, the black hole whirlpool in that heart

Is a wound that I can never shut, an eye witness

As what I’ve done will live forever

Even if I were to stitch the sky onto the disguised horizon like a scarecrow hodgepodge of carrion

I could not heal the flesh of an angel amputated from sanctuary

Graffiti dots the portrait lunatic of her black imagination

And the dark night is cold death plastered on castaways

Emptiness tried clotting over itself

But even if the tears ran dry

A scar blemishes the underneath of the skin

A death wish omniscient vomits the constellations of a celestial’s vessel

The effigy’s ebony resurrection crept in conceptions of vixen’s beckoning

A death wish envisioning crucifixion blizzards in the dim-lit prison of my eyes

Blackened by the light of scarred auburn skyline’s kaleidoscope

A window to sigils vigilante answering emancipation castrated of hatred

A hole in my soul where god used to be

My heart burns murmuring hurricanes

Raiment’s of deities aether maestros clay dolls claw at the dawn

But the scars stitching my epiphany distantly blister the cliff face of my misery

Hieroglyphs violate the choir of my childhood, initiate my death wish, destiny restless quelling

The malevolence, of evanescence desecrates the leather face of my masquerade

My wound, my heart, my hollow abomination

My ancient creation, unsacred, remaking renegades in the flame of anxiety’s highway

I am just another totaled exodus  

Just a death wish of memories made renegade

Just the flaming curtains of a sky ripped ragged, jagged in reanimation

Already dead, devouring the malice of an avatar’s carnival

The game is never over, clovers solace, colder omens, shapeshift, in metamorphosis

I shiver blitzing forgiveness, the invigorating complacency

Will never give me the freedom of Elysium, death the only wish to reach for

From the bottom floor

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

[Nolo Segundo]

Well Jack, you have a very pronounced talent with words, and you poem is powerful enough to make this old man feel sad because about 50 years ago I was somewhere near where you may be today. At 24 I sank into a deep depression, tried to take my own life. This is what I learned[credit or discredit it as you choose] : death is not the release of extinction, not a wall but a door--where it leads to could be far more terrible than anything imaginable; I have a consciousness that has always existed, beyond time itself; there is a higher power that can be called upon,even--especially- in despair. Oh, and a good shrink can help too [depression is sadness plus anger: identify the anger and the depression should lift]. I allude to all this in my poems 'The Leap' and 'In the belly of the Beast'. Hope it helps.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you Nolo, I appreciate your point of view, and agree.