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maledimiele Nov 2017
Trigger Warning you scream before pulling the trigger
Trigger Warning, again, you scream
And I can only wonder
When is a warning a warning?
maledimiele Nov 2017
Whenever you’re ready
To get up, to leave.
Whenever you’re ready
To close the door, to miss the train.
Whenever you want,
I’ll leave a window open for you
that – if you want
You can step outside, into the night
First one step, then another.
You, leaving my apartment,
without me even recognizing,
while I’am asleep.
A gentle breeze
I barely notice
Then you’re gone.
I surrender!
maledimiele May 2017
I’ve started a journal, about things that made me happy today, when really it should be things that kept me from killing myself today.

So I think about why today is not the day, on which I should end my being here, why today is not the day my light will be switched off.
I think about the advantages of not existing. On how easy everything would be. I wouldn’t have to get out of bed every morning, in fact I’d NEVER have to get up ever again. I could just lie there, not even making an effort to breathe – because what difference would it make?

I could spent my time just being nothing, feeling nothing, drowning in air and thoughtlessness for the sole purpose of wasting my time in a place where no time exists. I imagine my head just cooling down, like a laptop shut off after using it for a long time. I can almost feel the heat leaving my body, leaving my brain. I can feel my body getting cold and stiff and how my muscles just let go. They wouldn’t even try. No spasms or anything. They’d just drop to the ground in total exhaustion, thankful for not having to function anymore. My eyes closing, my mind in peace. No darkness or bad feelings, just a void. Floating into a vast nothingness.

It’s a nice thought. So, what is it that keeps me from giving in?

I don’t know. I don’t know why my body or better yet my mind keeps me alive, refusing to enter the state of total stiffness. Maybe there’s still movement, somewhere. Maybe it is because today I saw a grey cat which didn’t run away when I tried to touch her. Maybe it was because she had very soft fur and she purred and she gave me a blink with her eye when I looked at her. Maybe it was because I’ve catched the last train without running, even if I was already late. Maybe it was because the weather forecast predicted heavy rain in the afternoon but the sun just stayed all day.

I don’t know what makes my heart pumping blood day after day, what makes my lungs breathe second by second. I don’t know how this body works, but as for now, I think there must be reason.
maledimiele May 2017
I swallowed fire
Hoping it would burn me from within
I was screaming in pain
But when I tried to hold back the tears
The flames just drowned inside my eyes
And I could feel nothing again
And I don’t know what’s worse
maledimiele Mar 2017
You once told me that 16.6  percent
is the risk of firing a bullet into your head
when playing Russian Roulette.

And I wonder,
Does that make you a 16.6 percent suicidal?
I never knew you were a gambler,
And I wonder,
how much risk are you willing to take?

What will it look like,
when you’re holding that gun against your forehead?
What will your brain think,
that one millisecond before the fire hits you?
What will your tiny heart feel,
right before the bullet smashes your head into pieces?

Will you be counting your debts?
Will you ask for just one more chance?

But let me ask you-
What happens when the fire hits you
and you haven’t decided yet?
maledimiele Sep 2016
I’ve got those pants which used to hug my legs very tightly, some time ago
They were warm and comfortable and they’d snuggle up to each other

But today exact these same pants refused to recognize my legs
They started to let go of them

They observe them now, from a distance, and give them a strange look
They’re scared to touch my legs

They’re scared of those cold and sharp bones
Scared of the blue skin and of my fine hair on them

Bones cold and sharp, which used to be my legs, have become crutches
But they work
Bones, cold and sharp, which might snap in half with every movement
But still they’re whole

And like ghosts, invisible, I walk with those crutches through the hallway
Cross the streets of my hometown
And go for a run every now and then
I get past windows that show no reflection
Past people who look at me in disgust

And when I’m home, the pants slip off by themselves
So that I stand here, naked and barefoot and exposed without any cloth
Only to lift those cold and sharp bones one more time
To make a step forward
Onto a scale which will measure my self-worth in kilograms and make my bony knees wobbly again
Because suddenly, the pants fit again, suffocating my legs with their tightness.
maledimiele Sep 2016
Society’s supermarkets selling you lies,
Sweet and savory because the truth is tasteless.
Words prepacked in plastic boxes,
Their best-before-dates washed out because they've already expired yesterday.
Keep smiles frozen so they’ll never run out of stock.
And rotten teeth and brittle bones have never been so popular before.
Coat-hanger-shaped torsos on the meat counter,
And skinny spider legs on sale.
High-heeled and suntanned and bleached and naked
Spineless with bony spines and hollow eyes
I can see them every day running through the hall
Only to grab that one last piece of beauty.
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