Dark & Morbid

April 10^th 2005

This 'book'(so to speak) will involve things of a darker nature. Of loss and grief. Pain and fear, and somethings even of the morbid.

Sorry, but for the poems, they wont have any real order.

Image of a Soul - 9:56 9/25/05

Her naked form littered with flaws.
Unshed tears filling her eyes.
Mouth open in a silent cry.
Shoulders bowed by unseen weights.
Her hair binding her wrists.

Can you see her pain?
The anguish in her eyes?
Hear the fear in her cry?
See the emotions carved in stone?

She's my creation.
The image of a soul.
One that's flawed.
Haunted by personal demons.
Insecure weights holding her down.
Fears trapping her.

She's her own worst enemy.
Her own slow destruction.
She's self-created misery.

She's me.

Personal Rain - 3:46 6/21/05

I could lay here and slit my wrist
Could sink deep into a bath tub.
I could take pills with booze.
Could get the gun and pull the trigger.

Lifes become a constant misery.
Breathing is just another torture.
Light makes my soul cower.
Head aches everytime I see myself.

My smiles are starting to crack.
Eyes are starting to lose their luster.
Voice is rasping from the cheerful strain.
My soul is whither from personal pain.

I could lay here and slit my wrist.
Could sink deep into a bath tub.
I could take pills with booze.
Could get the gun and pull the trigger.

The reins are slipping from my control.
Losing my grip on what's reality.
Drifting deeper into this mock one.
Where creating my pain is a game.

I could kill myself and not bat an eye.
It's not hard to drown myself in my pain,
but I'll wait and see what tomorrow brings.
It has to stop raining sometime.

A Moment To Breath - 2:26 a.m. 6/12/05

Feeling so cold and alone.
I wander through a blue haze.
Eyes and ears shut tight.
Don't want to know anymore.
The pain has stripped this soul.
Suffocation by your pollution.
Why must I breathe this in?
Take in all your hate and pain.
Back's breaking from the weight.
Can't take on one more sorrow.
One more tale of suffering.

Let me drop these weights,
to stand 6 feet tall again.
I want to see a rainbow,
and hear bird song again.
Give me a day of fresh air to breathe
to feel unpolluted for a moment.

Bullet Dance - 9:01 p.m. 5/28/05

Dug this grave with no qualms.
My crazed mind in a red fog.
Steady hand curled around the gun.
Barrel pressed against temple.
Soiled finger caressing the trigger.
...waiting...waiting...waiting...
For the bullets deadly song.
...bang...silence...silence...
Last step to our dance wholly executed.

Addicted Haze - 7:16 p.m. 4/11/05

Just one more puff of this blunt.
Just one more sniff of this cocaine.
Just one more swallow of vodka.

Then I'll be ready to face the world.
I wont feel anything when I
see the sorrow in your eyes.
Numb, I can once again look you in the face,
and tell you a bold face lie, that, "I'm alright."
I can leave you standing alone in the rain,
and not feel anymore guilt.
I can look around this gloomy world,
and not feel any shame for what I'm doing.

Just one more puff of this blunt.
Just one more sniff of this cocaine.
Just one more swallow of vodka.

Then I can hide from you.
Can run away from myself.
Step away from my responsibilities.
I can punk out and take the easy way out.
Now I can spend my life in a addicted kind of freedom.
I can watch the world from a drug filled haze,
and feel nothing for the tears that I shead.
Once more I can hide from my weak self,
cheating me from the life I'm to addicted to see.

The Whisper - 6:37 p.m. 3/26/05

The whisper to take a pill.
The whisper to shoot up.
The whisper to cut your wrists.
The whisper to end your life.

I hear it everyday on the dieing wind.
Hear it whispering through the walls.
I listen for it like rossing death.
Listen for it to come back to life.

The whisper to drink another glass.
The whisper to sniff some cocaine.
The whisper to light just one more.
The whisper to end all my pain.

I wait for it in the dieing light.
Wait for it in the whispers of night.
I find it at the bottom of an ocean.
Find it at the end of my life.

Overdose - ? 3/9/05

A fake blue sky comes out this day,
making my soul feel cold and sad.

I feel the tears slid down my chaffed cheeks.
The salty taste inprinting itself to memory.

With the taste comes memories of the ocean,
and crushing waves drowning the shoreline.

Feeling short of oxygen I quickly cut short that memory,
and I let my eyes turn to the fire of the setting sun.

The intoxication reminds me fondly of mescaline.
Which in the end turned my world upside down.

I became addicted to the vision quest,
that took me places past Earths bounds.

But at the end of the day it was always to much.
My visions multiplying themselves like mushrooms.

It was a near-death experience for me
when I felt myself losing grip on sanity.

People told me I'd taken to much of the drug,
but when I look back I think it was an overdose on fun.

Decayed Soul - 7:44 p.m. 2/7/05

I led myself astray doing something
that I knew just wasn't me,
but I just wanted something new.
Didn't think anything bad would happen.
Just thought I'd have alittle fun for a change.
Didn't realize what I had done,
until I found I was in a place with no appeal.
In a dirty old motel room,
up under a man I didn't know.
As the springs sqeaked,
and the groans grew much louder.
I realized what I had become.

I was someone I couldn't stand.
Someone I couldn't look into the mirror at.
I had no more respect for myself.
I was a turtle hiding in someone else's shell.

As the man collapsed on me,
I felt the vomit rising from my own stinch.
The stinch from my decayed rotting soul.

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