God, for me,
is a selfish thing.
I only want him there to blame,
Or to ask him for that
Which I cannot seem
To produce for myself by other means.

And yet, for me,
To disbelieve is equally
A selfish thing.
To pretend that I have come this far
Without some kind
Of Divine intervention...

How could this be,
considering
The sheer stupidity of my decisions
The risks I took
with my own wellbeing;
the utter disregard

So it is and must be
that god, for me,
Is looking out regardless.
There must be some plan
regarding me
or else I'd have been disposed of.

Does this mean
I am a chosen one?
Not just dust-
but a favorite son?
I think it must...
There's no other logical conclusion.

I know we are not a thing anymore.
I know that we don’t even need to be.
I know you have people next door and
I am the last that you would like to see.

I am sorry that I misunderstood things.
Thought you weren’t looking for flings.
I am sorry that I tried to fool my heart
when I knew you’re going to break it apart.

Side to side I look
Hearing the icy taunting voices
Of all these people
Talking behind my back
Ridiculing my every action
My every action is a mistake,
Even staying still is a sin.
My heart pumps my chilled blood,
Faster and faster
Until I feel my veins will burst
My mind runs faster and faster
Filled with terrifyingly venomous thoughts
Now they’re taunting me,
Pointing ambiguous shadowy fingers,
Laughing in deep, echoed unison.
My vision starts to turn as black as the figures.
I want to run
I want to run
I want to run
I cannot run
They will taunt me for running,
They will toss me around,
Taunting me and beating me,
Bruising me all the same.

Collapsing on the icy floor of hell,
My delusions got the better of me.
I covered my head expectantly,
Waiting for it to come.
My face was wet with perspiration.
But it was not perspiration,  
It was my tears,
I was silently sobbing,
Trying not to show them.
They would find out, but I don’t want them to.

The distant black figures are next to me now,
Crowding around me and pointing.
I’m now sure they exist.
Their heaving laughter rings through my ears.
Their breath hitting me with an infernal flame.
Their bodies radiate a subzero aura,
Chilling than heating me just the same.

The shadows start to replace my own reality,
I want them to leave,
I want me to leave,
Neither of us move.

Their ambiguous shape is standing inches away now,
They are still closing in,
Getting ready for the ****.
My delusions are reality now.
I feel I will die when they reach me.

Suddenly it all goes black,
Then brown
Then blue
Then white
I’m curled on the floor.
I remember my delusions and shudder
I try to convince myself that it wasn’t real
But I cannot fight the fear overrunning me
It was too real that time.
I know it only could get worse.

The frozen flame
encloses me in pain.
The blue turns
to a radiating white.
I've become so blind now...
this can't be right.

I'm trapped inside a world so bright.

This world is so ****** up.
The smoke is falling down,
My pain is rising up.
It's hard to breathe.
I want to leave.

I'm being burned right through,
this scorching hell keeps shining
its infernal judgement
upon my dying soul.

My world's a burning light.
I can feel my soul fading,
but that's all right.

It's all right.

Fancies calcify in waiting,
under floodlights, Seconds crawl,
while the ancient belfry crumbles,
crack a cold one, watch the fall.

A Jiffy and a Nothing-flat
argue ‘round their fell remains.
Jiffy visions stories flying, high-
rises surging from the flames.

A motley crew of Moments,
fitted blind to rhapsodize,
scaffold fickle aspirations.
“Venture higher!” Jiffy cries.

Cresting ‘bove the clouds
ol’ Jiffy pipes a story more
‘til that whisk of wiser wheezing,
downs the tower, floor-by-floor

Collapsing ‘to a shower,
Moments dance in reckless spiral,
share the balmy hands of vision,
kiss the lips of sweet denial.

Delusions topple in a breath
under floodlights, Seconds crawl,
while the idle spire shatters.
Crack a cold one. Watch the fall.

I'm here once more, but then again when was I not?

as if my eyes have ever shifted from my reflection. I'm sick of it.

I don't know how long I've been here; this dimly lit trap gives away no time.

all else melts around me, pools into ripples of my distorted reality.

I sit and I watch my face. I long for the familiarity of yesteryears that I cannot trace.

my skin yawns open, wills to consume itself - porous, velutinous, and brittle.

this is who I am, this is what I see:

tyrian purple flesh decomposing, falling inside my bones that split and splinter;

my mind climbing out of my head, fugitive from the skull's prison;

breaths, ribbons of grotesque, not deep enough to last and not shallow enough to be numbered.

everything without is human (decaying though it is), and everything within is dissimulation.

this molten, fragmented un-being doesn't escape my sight. these eyes have cried out for respite -

and yet they exist, the odd and sole constant in the mirror before them -

wistful for oblivion and feasting on fear. what's gone has kept me alive for longer than it appears.

this body doesn't even feel real. my fingertips burn at every touch.

what more shrapnel does this heart desire until it plays out its final beat?

It began on a Despairing Night:
I was the most Depressed Laborer around,
He was the most Fake Delusion.

He was my Friend,
My Fake Friend,
My Delusion.

We used to Sleep so well together,
Back then.
We wanted to Die together,
We wanted it all to end.

But one Night, one Despairing Night,
We decided to Lie too much.
Together we Chased Death.
It was Pathetic, so Pathetic.

From that moment our relationship changed.
He grew so Lonely.

And then it happened:

He Lived Life.
My Friend Lived Life.

The next day I thought my mind had broken,
I thought my Life had burst into flames,

But still, He is in my thoughts.
I think about how it all changed that Night,
That Despairing  Night.

When I think of that Fake Delusion,
That Fake Delusion and me.

I woke up, in hospital, the visions and dreams I had were scary.
Some were real, some were not.
I thought the dream of actually being in hospital was a nightmare.
Then I realized, the suicide attempt didn't work.
I vomited everything out, but some of it is still in my system, making me very drowsy, this isn't a poem, it's a confession.
I attempted to **** myself, but it wasn't the right time.
I have faint memories of what happened.
Most of them were scary as I was drugged on the medication, seeing delusions that weren't real.
I won't do it again, I learnt my lesson.
My mom brought me home, to keep an eye on me and give me direction, I'm doing well, yet, still very drowsy and nauseous.
She flew all the way down to see me in hospital, I was in ICU for 3 days.
I almost died, if I closed my eyes before the ambulance came, I would've.
That was the point, but, it was all an illusion.
Never overdose on your prescribed bipolar meds.
Never overdose on anything.
...
Never attempt suicide

.
Settled in days of wine without rose
And forever nows we trudged along,
Making our way to the ordinary
Greeting of the always new.
For we always knew, our time
Together was but a means,
Of make believes and almost
Alrights, a travelogue to nos
In destinations of plain, we spoke
To each other as if then never was,
We drank coffee in meeting places,
Where grown ups frequent as they
Barter to themselves, in cursory
Smiles and similes unsaid, for they,
As us, knew that no future would arrive                                                
As we numbered to each in numbness
Searching for one breakaway day,
Seeking to blind ourselves looking
For what was already, maybe there.
How timeless is a child in fantasy?
What play dates we revel in,
With others we do not know?
This is a song we played, we played
At being joined, as if our lives
Depended on it.
.