Ive written the note
I'm ready to take the pills
Only to be told that what I'm doing is
Selfish

Apparently it is selfish to commit suicide as you do not think of those
that you leave behind.
People clearly don't understand
The meaning behind suicide.

Yes you are leaving people behind
But it is not like you did not think of them
That is why I cried while writing the note
I cried while I thought of my mom at my funeral

To those that think suicide is selfish -
They should think of how selfish
it is to drive people into such a deep depression
That the only way to make it stop is to end their life

I'm not selfish
I'm selfless
As the world is a better place
Without me

Take me high-
So high up with your powder wings
Angel of dust and up,
Let me drink from your cup.

Show me the world from your height,
Intoxicate me with your wine,
And poison me with your poisons.
I love it.

Every time I fly alone,
I miss you most.
Always on the top of my tongue and
The front of my thoughts,
Always the first on mind
And first I speak.

Ask them,
Those around me,
I can't shut up about you.
I take Cristian mythology and apply every
Hyperbole and analogy withing those books
And weave it into your holiness,
Your true light.

You possess a place more pure than Eden
Within me,
And a heart more red that the fruit we indulge,
I could get lost inside of you,
I would love to get lost inside of you
Every night.

Studying your doctrines,
Learning your covenants with my finger
Across the pages,
Running my eyes, face and hands all over your tomes,
Breaking down and reassembling your information.
Study you devoutly,
Every day and every night to dedicate to worship
Through practice and through study.

You are a testament to man's virtue
And a testament to his ability to wait.
You are St. John's gift upon me,
The land behind his gates,
My Zion of knowledge and joy.

I will count my blessings,
And take it for what it is.
I love you.
I love what you've done​ for my life,
Unintentionally, too.
You've made faithful this secular man now monk,

I believe in you,
And light of the sun every morning.
The taste of my coffee, roasted every day,
My carcinogin cigarettes,
Your sweet kisses, teasing,
And the drugs I take regularly.

You've made the mundane magnificent,
And I thank you,
God, thank you.
I will never under appreciate what you've given.
My God,
My Gaia.

Its hard to write a poem when you don’t feel anything
I’m not quite numb
But nor am I happy or sad
I’m just here

Its hard to write a poem when you aren’t sad
I try to describe the feeling of everything but nothingness
But all that comes out is not how I feel
I try to describe the feeling of having a ******* cloud over you
But thats not what I say
And I try to describe how it feels to have a blade across your skin
But whats comes is misplaced words

Its hard to write a poem when you aren’t happy
I try to describe the feeling of love when my girlfriend holds my hand
But all that comes out, is nothing like how it feels
I try to describe the way she plays with my hair and the love in her eyes
But all that comes out is mumbled words with a stutter
I try to describe how she lights up my day
But all that turns into is sadness

Its hard to write a poem when you don’t feel anything
When I’m as happy as can be
But I still want to cut
Its hard to write a poem when you don’t even know your own feelings

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.