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JM Sutherland Mar 2019
Is it really so bad
to think that maybe
the nothingness that is assumed
at the end of the road
is actually a light
a continuation of your dreams
without all the screams
without bursting at your seams
where you can rest but still float
in a calming boat
a soul in a stream
your life a vivid beam
at the end of all heartache
comes a wave of new odysseys
not even one
that is described by
the hateful religious
but perhaps at least something
something outside of nothing
somewhere to run free
somewhere to be comforted
a land where you can see
enlightenment and glee
learning life's key.
It would be nice
but I get the idea
that the only reason
people even believe in
somewhere after the end
is because we are all terrified
of the black
the dark
the cold embrace
at death's door
the ceasing of all awareness
and maybe the thought
that our life was meaningless
in the grand scheme of things
even though that is probably true
and I am kind of okay
with that
part of me is still hoping
for somewhere for my soul to go
after this hell we call
life.
The grip of thanatophobia brings us together.
JM Sutherland Mar 2019
People are disgusting, even me
More than others can really see
Beneath the love, a darkness so bleak
Defining an existence so meek
People live, people die
People ****, and defy
Hurting each other for their own gain
Precious moments down the drain.

A breath is nothing to the coin
Happiness and wealth have to join
These rules were written without our consent
Death that piles beyond extent
Our human greed is outside measure
Only concerned with their unquenchable pleasure
All we can do is our part
You and me, with all our heart.

Our heart is one, and they don't know
We cannot let their consumption grow
Even in the endless night
We must speak the voiceless plight
The monopoly on a fair life
The gluttonous, murderous knife
There are the things we need to end
In order to get our world to mend.

A lifetime comes, where hope can fade
Underneath the worker's shade
Whispers of a satisfied living
Grow in place of that desire for giving
Old age comes, you cease to care
Blinded by their crooked glare
So you rest against a tree
Without wondering what was key.
People are disgusting.
"You must be disgusting too!"
JM Sutherland Mar 2019
Did I wake up this morning?
Am I walking in an endless nightmare?
A confined circle of my own
mental construction
of which I am stabbed
by this fear of the unknown.
When in reality
existence is the unknown.
Did I wake up this morning?

Cup of coffee, empty in minutes.
Breakfast devoured
drive to work finished.
Is my inner self
as empty as my cup?
My plate?
My drive?
One foot in front of the other
Walking towards ceasing
Until then, an endless cycle
a nightmare of failure.
Broken up with the numbing.
Did I wake up this morning?

Working.
Working.
Working.
Am I a dull boy?
Is it because the bonds that
actually remind me of worth
are slowly broken by this
pointless endless stream of earning
of learning?
That's what They say.
But what am I truly discovering?
Enlightenment is nowhere in sight.
In its place, a puddle of mediocrity;
of this monotone routine.
A cage.
Is this my own, subtle hell?
Have I been bad?
Did I wake up this morning?

It always crosses my mind
that maybe I haven't ended it all
simply because I am truly
afraid of the nothingness.
The true breaking of the routine.
That I am more afraid of that
than the normality in this emptiness.
Is it because deep down
like the others
I believe that maybe
there is something to hold on to?
Did I wake up this morning?

Part of me is okay
with the idea
of this being a sort of subtle hell.
Because in the depths
of this emotional abyss
I find solace in love.
The burning empathy I have
for all life.
And most of all
for my family.
My friends.
My lover.
These people are
those that throw me a rope
and at least temporarily
dig me out of this
mental nightmare.
And if this temporary bliss
they give me in this
infinite insanity
despite perhaps them not existing at all
isn't what being alive feels like,
maybe I am okay with being dead.
Of existing in this looping dream
inside my head.
Did I wake up this morning?
Perhaps I don't care.
I'm back. I brought some darkness with me. Hope you don't mind.
JM Sutherland Aug 2018
I miss you
More than honestly I ever thought I would
I remember the nights like they were yesterday
And I wish they were
I remember when we’d speed down the street
Brown, paper bags in our laps
The distinct smell of a good burger
Draping the air as we headed into the sunset
We’d stop and get a movie
Something cheesy, stupid looking
We’d want something to laugh at
Through our unconventional humor
And we’d drink away our troubles
Maybe that’s where we went wrong
But I still remember you, brother
In the place that you belong.

You left one day, to pursue the ocean
I smiled because you would no longer
Be so lonely.
I was the only thing you had here.
On the beach, you’d have family
You’d have people
To make you not feel so empty
And you could carry a case
Of that stout you liked so much
And drink it as the waves
Washed away your troubles.
I hoped luck might find you
But she’s a two-faced dancer
Where did things go wrong?
I wish I had the answer.

Instead of luck
Dancing with you
Maybe making some love
With your lonely heart
She bit your neck
Until you bled out onto that
Cheap carpet in your
Apartment bedroom
And the loneliness and the depression
All came out with the drugs
And when I got that call
About my friend
Who despite me not getting around
To calling in a few months
Considered me close enough
To have as his emergency contact
Died one morning
How he felt such pain in his heart
He decided to blow it up
Explode the pain and alcoholism
Everywhere
Until the pages of those comics we’d read
Were stained in a coat of tears
That I’d cry from grief.

I kept wanting to write you
Some kind of letter
Even though I knew you’d never get it
I typed and erased so many texts
My fingers got tired
And my brain weakened
From this new found pain that I had never felt
Losing you has made my soul melt
And the only thing I hope
Is that somewhere you are out there
In the afterlife I don’t believe in
Drinking your ale
With the last sunset we never watched.
JM Sutherland Aug 2018
In vacant masks
We hide the veins
Where the sickly blood
Flows within us
Like a raging, hidden
Flame divided
Beneath a blanket
Of expectations
Of lacerations
Of blocked
Shocked
Methods of filth

Where we can act
As though we are better
When someone leaves
Or mistreats
Or walks away
Or makes them pay
We sit with our hands
Together like some morbid
Altar boy drunk on
Some misconceived
Notion that we are
Better.
JM Sutherland Aug 2018
We worry and we wrestle
Day by Day
With the thought
We won't have enough
Our account balances
Sometimes as low
As our happiness.
And instead of wading
In life's treasured moments
Like some picturesque Hallmark
We sit in an ocean of frowns
Contagious they feed us
With the thoughts that
Maybe someday we
Might have enough
Maybe we too can
Have enough money
Where we can control
Our own destinies
And maybe if we just
Work hard enough
We too can join

The enlightened
The happy
The free
But as life's camera
Zooms out of focus
Our slave collars tighten
Around the dollars
We grip onto with our
Strength that slowly fades
Starving, as we stare
At some motivational story
Hanging on the mantle
Of our Master's mansions.
JM Sutherland Aug 2018
Like a puppet without strings
I lay there motionless
Drinking in the seething pool of
Nothing that surrounds me like
The caged dog that I am
Dehydrated of motivation
Deprived of any real semblance
That I am actually alive
Outside of this heartbeat
That is a ticking time bomb
Destined to go off before
I find any sort of lasting solace
Trapped in a box of possibilities
Dreams that are never meant to come true
Ashes in my mind of the lies I was told
About how I could do what I wanted
And instead my smile is stapled on
With the capricious optimism
That dies every single time
I open my eyes.
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