The words have stopped,
The music aint flowing,
There's been the death of a lady's man,
The death of one Leonard Cohen.

Imagine yourself
Alone in your head
You're hanging, dangling
From a silver thread

Empty, alone
With the monsters within
Internally screaming
You just want to give in

Now imagine that's you
Every day, every hour
Forever sinking
Like a wilting flower

You try to tell your dad
And you try to tell your mom
But they say you're being silly
You've just got to move on

Because teens don't know sorrow
Nor the hardships of life
They're just kids with imaginations
Just looking for attention, right?

You think that there's none
Who know how you feel
You're just so alone
But the feelings- they're real

Useless
Neglected
Forgotten
Distressed

Alone
Afraid
But mostly
Depressed

And you're friends
They go on
Like nothing has changed

"They must not care"
Your thoughts whisper
The lies in your brain

You can't escape it
Trapped in your own skin
You're ugly
You're hated
But you mask it with a grin

You hate what you feel
So instead you feel nothing
Your insides are numb
Your confidence crumbling

You look to other things
To stop the pain
Cutting, pills
But it gives you no gain

And the people around you
Shout abuse your way
"You're hurting yourself, stop it!"
That's all they ever say

No matter how you plead
That you're broken inside
They turn the other way
They run, they hide

They say you're just foolish
It's all in your head
What they don't know, is inside
You're already dead

In order to heal from death
my child,
you must mourn,
and to do so properly,
in order to deal with the pain,
you must plunge a knife,
relieving the deepest ache of loss,
death is not in vain,

Cutting the **** deeper into your chest,

As I'm still breathing,
wise one,
I say alright,

Looking down at my lungs,
taking in some necessary air,
letting go of all my useless despair,

I'm amazed to still be alive,
& hoping to just simply survive,
with such life threatening wounds,

I take one last deep breath,

I remove the beating heart,
look at it pulsing in my palm,
dripping in cardinal red blood,
staining my skin,

I pull away a hand,
& I examine the sticky fingertips,
smear it on my face,
it's my war paint
mixed in with white clay,
right along with your ashes,

I am prepared to go into battle,

I am a warrior,
I would remove my fingertips
for such an important death,
as I make distinctive markings,
on your body,
so that I can find you again,
and lie with you,
your most,
beloved,

I prepare
many,
special,
& important things,
to take with you on the long journey,

You will reach the end,
at the long fork in the Milky Way,
3 days to get there,

And as you lie out in the sweet grass hills,
to talk to the children,
or become a medicine rock,
to heal the deeply wounded,

While I sing an endless mournful song,
& cut off my beautiful hair,
bleed again,
as I cut my thighs,
with a sharp rock,

I am stomping the prairie grass flat,
dancing in circles,
to the pounding drums,
yipping into the night,

I am chasing the dead,

I attach a rope to my wounds,
swing from them,
embracing the pain,
visions given
in the implications,
as music is drumming,

I close my eyes to see the flames
shaking my hands to the dancing licks,
my feet keep moving
find the beat,
the rhythm of life,

Extract the broken parts of my mind,
as some of your essence sinks,
back into your beautiful bones,

As I travel to the edge of loneliness,
as I try to find the end of it,

All souls eventually travel East,
to this paradise,

A lonely spirit tells me,
get on your knees
ask into the deep
wail into the pain,
lean in,
feel it,
retrieve it,
begin to even believe it,

Then pound an angry drum,
dear child
relieve it,

You must,
rail against time,
as you trust,
as you fly into the night sky,
in a blinded rage
write it all down
then gently turn again,
a page,
it's alright to cry,
& no,
this is not goodbye
just break down,
get hysterical,
scream at the night,
let it out child,
howl at that moon,
ask again & again of why,
run through the house,
with no where to go,
go crazy,

& then,
once your heart is healed,
you just come back.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

It's not that I haven't got something to say
it's more that I don't have the will to utter it.

Where even do I start? I mean:
**** girl, I like you, it's just
I'm not so keen on myself. So
it's hard for me to see exactly
what you see in me without
a postscript to my thought
which reads 'you sure know how to pick them'.

I might be handsome but you are beyond beautiful,
You're hilarious, you're intelligent, you're my kind
of girl.
I apologise if I've not been
all there
because I like you, I swear.

I am still finding my feet
after kicking down
The Doors.

i read your tumbled thoughts
through your eyes
the mirrors to your soul
and they speak sadness
discontent
unease
and woe
they cannot see the brightness
of the sky
the beauty of clouds
nor hear the sing song melody
of birds way up high
consumption of bitterness
has directed your being
into becoming
an angry individual
a hateful person
vengeful
jealous
contemptuous
i search for the softness
the love
the forgiveness
but i find none
your misery is too strong
and the force of it
makes me abandon you
forget you
toss you to the curb
to live out your pain
all alone.

Those sublime flakes of snow
Flying down in a chaotic row
Tabbing  against the tender skin
Who, in the doleful end will win?
Sublime and sweet, the memory
Throbbing in grief too severely
I do feel the snowflakes of ache
Landing on the heart of rage
Not even trying to melt anymore
It's all too cold and bitterly sore.