Posts tagged: suicide
Raise the volume
Fuck the speakers
I need background
As my arms bleed
Cause a rift in the drips
As they splash to the beat.
I care for nothing in this moment
Insanity of it all
Makes me crave for more
What a spectacle
Dancing in the rain
Entranced by my own pain.
Take no offense
As I embrace my non negotiable penance.
I’ve accepted it
Let me celebrate in my own fashion
Away from fakes
And sympathy from those who would kill themselves if they knew the reasons behind my violent passion.
Its my day damn it
And if you care
Allow me my freedom
I hope this emotion never overtakes you
Dont stay for my festivities
Invest in a life better spent.
Live for me; allow my final words to have some worth.
Close the door behind you. I think I’ve had enough.
I suffer from a disturb human being complex. One day I want to die the next I feel I’m destined to thrive.
Life resonates as a bad movie, I keep watching, despite knowing the ending will be much to my dismay. Maybe I enjoy watching my life decay. Or maybe I want the validation that the movie was truly terrible. My curiosity is the only thing that keeps me from turning the T.V off. l wish I’d just press the power button on the remote.
I involve myself with things to feel as if I have some sort of worth; hopefully I’ll continue to be too preoccupied so I can’t think about commiting suicide.
I had to get up today and admit some things because if I didn’t I’d be resentful. I’d be angry. I’d continue to be tired. And hell I might just say fuck it. And while every now and again you have to get some fuck it in your system or this world will tear you down, I mean the proverbial fuck it.
The cease to exist, nothing but a memory, fuck it, That it could’ve all end well, I saw a brighter future for h(i)r, fuck it. The well s/he will be missed, life continues to go on, fuck it. The never ending second, longest breath, flash of too short a life; before the shattering of a soul amongst every moment continually happening and then silence. Only broken by a symphony of whimpers and wails that weave through the air replicating the moments before the body fell; broken.
And while I’m still standing, for now, it continues to get insanely harder. I feel upset at myself that I am even slightly irritated by others’ positive outcomes in life. My family and I work hard. Sometimes it seems these efforts are useless. We need quite a few things for right now, but my bigger concern is a chance/ an opportunity for longevity.
Even still sometimes the thought passes what if I just say fuck it.
We are all crazy one way or another. There is no such thing as normal.
"He said, be glad you don’t understand, be thankful, and pray you never, ever do understand. “
The Honest Truth.
Sometimes Waking up is way less fun.
Nihilism and the BiPolar
I thought if I could annihilate my mental suroundings, I could eliminate the detrimental self findings.
The whisper in my mind is distant from my ears which has me half mesmerized half terrified of what I hear.
This, yet another, aching crisis of depression causes me to envision throwing my life away
On tracks glazed, crimson red
My lifeless body was my final statement
Another poor soul just trying to make it.
Nietzsche said, " God is dead."
No I think we’re just impatient.
In regards to being considerate
I seriously think we fake it.
Through my own pain I know the death of God to be a lie. If my faith was based on myself I would have succeded, and not just now, be attempting to die.
I believe human beings are determined to kill “God”.
And if stoich determinism is so strong in a greater being we can’t see.
How much more must be their disgust of me.
Its a common everyday occurence
that I am known to be unhappy.
This fake masquerade should be
(in fact) called bad acting.
Ha, these tears keep falling …
Gravity, doesn’t take notice to pitful emotional paradoies.
Such clarity only comes when you got a (gun) hole on the side of your head bigger than your thumb.
I was depressed and diagnosis as Bi-Polar,
given antipsychotics to take whenever my other self takes over,
given antidepressants to take when that bitch decides to go over
the edge …
For a midnight concrete dip in Los Angeles.
Them drugs must have made us forget we can’t swim,
oh shit aint no lakes in Los Angeles.
Bandages can’t cover these scar no better than vasline prevents an itch.
I hope death don’t hurt to much,
because if you haven’t noticed,
I’m considering it.