Listen to me now and heed my voice;
I am a madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness,
but listen now.

Listen to me now, and if I say
that black is black, and white is white, and in between lies gray,
I have no choice.

Does a madman choose his words? They come to him,
the moon’s illuminations, intimations of the wind,
and he must speak.

But listen to me now, and if you hear
the tolling of the judgment bell, and if its tone is clear,
then do not tarry,

but listen, or cut off your ears, for I Am weary.

*

Published by Penny Dreadful, The HyperTexts, the Anthologise Committee and Nonsuch High School for Girls (Surrey, England)

Also published by Michael R. Burch writing as Immanuel A. Michael and Kim Cherub

Keywords/Tags: Listen, heed, prophet, crying, wilderness, voice, prophecy, black, white, gray, moon, wind, speak, speaking, speech, instruction, teaching, warning, omen, illuminations, intimations, ears, hear, judgment, bell, toll, tolling, peal, pealing, tone, I, Am

Note: The poet as a “madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness” is likened to John the Baptist, foretelling a momentous “second coming”: his own, with no other Messiah in sight.

Fill the loneliness with drinks
Hide the pain with fake smiles
**** those tears back up
Push the depression away
It’s only temporary
It’s only right now.

*******'re really dying huh?

no no no no no no no no no no non onno no...


alex dont leave me


dont leave us.


we love you so ******* much


we need you?


yeah.


we need you.



i hope youre well.



you'll be in a better place.





i dont want you to die.

Less than 24 hours ago, I wrote that I found freedom and solace in her.
That my state of mind always seemed to be in a lighter mood.
Funny how things really can change in mere seconds.

Less that 24 hours, I shared to her an even bigger piece of my heart.
I gently removed my battered heart from my chest and asked for her to hold on to it.

Bruised and coloured in black, purple marks. I gave to her willingly.
And what better way to do that if not with poetry.
The only artfrom that truly  defines who I AM.

Her eyes, shined with happiness, or so I thought.
My mind so calm, trusting that every move I made is worth it.
I shouldn't have listened to any bits of my mind or heart though.
I should have fought.
Now look at my consequences of love.
My heart is caught in a bob wired fence.
Losing its last bits of red.

Less than 24 hours ago, I thought you would protect me.
So willingly I gave you all of me, bits I repaired, Bits I was working on and the remainder of what made me me.

What gave you the right to look me in my bloodshot eyes and tell me I am not  enough.
Why take all that I am to tell me that you can't do this.

Is this it?
Is pain the only constant that belongs in my life?
Because everytime I try to feel something better than it.
It leaves like a boomerang and comes back with 10x more the impact.

So perhaps this is my karma.
My one true love.
Pain.
I cannot fight you anymore.

Maybe a car will drive by
throwing out some light
onto my face in the dark
catching on my tears there
revealing my vulnerabilities

Maybe a car will drive by
then when I leave the house
they'll think of me tomorrow
as a story on the morning news
or maybe they won't remember

Maybe a car will drive by
as I walk alone in the dark
the driver won't even glance at me
the headlights flickering across
without ever noticing my figure

Maybe a car will drive by
and it will bless me tonight
it will drive along the bridge
I will look at it from the ledge
and it could hit me on accident