Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Cody Haag Dec 2015
Death is something to become accustomed to,
Something not to fear,
Not to construe,
When examining its leer.

The cycle of life delivers
Exhilaration and then mortification,
Sometimes not filling in any answers,
Neither promising or denying tarnation.

But we need not delve into
The concept of death being morbid,
Or something a god will malignantly do,
At the same time, these thoughts we can't forbid.

Find peace with existing to exist;
Look out for yourself;
Do not unwittingly miss
Those who made you cut your wrist.
Not that great. Eh.
aviisevil Dec 2015
you caress me through those seductive eyes,
stare at me as if I'll disappear in a moment;
what the clock may speak, arms wouldn't lie;
you always knew how to lock me within a moment
now I am stuck here with you
here without you, can you not hear my scream;
I've been love struck and stabbed by the cupid too,
I **** you away in my every dream.
and yet, you bring the summer alive,
not withstanding the winters creed;
how lonely you must have been,
to seek my sorrow,
together we can breed


monsters and demons,
angels and scars,
there's a road that leads to your soul,
you will eat me whole before the journey would last.
here take my hand;
take my hand and skin my eyes,
there is no need to **** and lie;
here take my hand;
take my hand and let me die.


wither into pieces,
for them to collect what was yours and mine,
wrap yourself up in a disease,
make me sick in the deep of my mind;
where sanity chokes on the ashes,
ashes those feed the fire;
how you make me feel;
so blessed, to have known the evil of my desires.


be gone before they find you,
in my arms, and without a head
bring me back to life so you can play with me again,
only to leave me more coarse and dead.
Homunculus Dec 2015
Here's one for all the suicidally depressed people.
First of all, if you're thinking about ending it,
Please know that I love you, and I really hope you don't
I've been there too, and sometimes all it takes is
One more day to think before you decide that it
Really isn't worth it... BUT: if you've thought long and hard
About it, and you decide to follow through: be creative.

Don't just say "goodbye cruel world" and swallow a
Bottle of sleeping pills, or slit your wrists in
The bathtub, so that your landlord finds you
A week later after wondering about the smell.
Instead, rent an exhibition space in a trendy art district,
Hire a PR team, and pour your investments into,
A highly publicized event, that will be billed as
"The Performance Art Piece of the Century".

Don't worry about how you'll afford it, either.
You can easily take out several loans from
Various banks and payday lenders,
Max out your credit card, bounce cheques etc. etc.
It's not like you'll ever have to repay them.
Once you follow through, you'll default by default!
Then, well, that's their problem, huh?
Meh, serves those greedy ****** right for
Crashing the whole **** global economy
every few years, like they seem to like to do.

Instead of a suicide note, write a manifesto,
Complete with a detailed statement of purpose,
Instructions for preserving your work, and
An incisive aesthetic critique which decries  
"The subversion of artistic autonomy by
The market society", and the uninspired
Throwaway commodity form
That art has become as a result.
Blame Andy Warhol, people will get it.

Then, when the big day comes, and
You're surrounded by those pretentious
Clove smoking, soy latte sipping, Prius driving,
Tofu eating, turtleneck wearing, Soho art district types,
Get a gun and put a canvas behind your head, so
That when you pull the trigger, it splatters an
Aleatoric masterpiece that even ******* would fawn over.
Now, for maximal effect, you're gonna wanna use
Hollow tips, dum-dums, or buckshot in a sawed-off.
If you really wanted to play on the chance operations thing,
You could line the cylinder of a revolver with both
Full metal slugs and hollow tips, so that there's an
Equal chance of the shot creating
a controlled burst or wide array splatter, but
These are just suggestions, It's your art, you decide

This spectacle would make headlines, for sure.
Then, instead of being just another statistic,
To be neatly lumped into a sheet of numbers,  
Stuffed into a folder, and quickly forgotten,
You'll be remembered for generations to come
As that tragic visionary, whose passion was so
Uncompromising, and whose artistic integrity,
Was so utterly unyielding, that you were
Even willing to give your life for it.

Now, one last point of contention, to
Add a bit of weight to the argument:
You remember Thich Quan Duc?
He was the monk who set himself
Ablaze, during the Vietnam War,
In an act of protest. Of course you do.

Nobody knew him the day before,
Except maybe his fellow monks, but
Now his image is immortalized, and
Immediately recognizable decades later, as
The picture that defined a generation.

...but,

Do you remember the man, who was
Fed up with his dead end job, and one
Day finally decided to end it all?
Which one? Who's that? Exactly.
Now, perhaps I've made my point.

Just a thought...
I was listening to George Carlin's bit on suicide from "Life is Worth Losing" and decided to have a go at the topic myself.
Oscar Mann Dec 2015
The last time I took a stroll in someone else’s mind
I collected as many thoughts as I could
And nurtured them until they made sense
And gave meaning to the mean masquerading
Of the malicious and the morbid

When there’s nothing left to hide
The truth becomes a vile enemy
And ignorance the purest form of bliss
For once the stroll has come to pass
The shades of darkness remain all too clear

What use for the thoughts of a madman
Paintings of images made up by someone else
Uncanny, alien words that rattle and shake
Their true meaning resonating inside my head
Wondering if I was looking in the mirror all along
hsc Dec 2015
Eventually all these
Negative things will pile up and
She'll lose her mind.
She has nothing to live for.
So why doesn't she cry?

They hate her and probably wish they never had her.
She's sorry.
She's sorry for it all.

If she ended her life right now,
Neither of them would even shed a tear.
For all their sadness, grief and unhappiness,
Would be gone...
Dead;
Killed.

At her own hand.
And she'd regret it not.
For now, at least, she can be at peace.
She CAN be loved and she will.

And there, at least,
She won't be thinking suicidal thoughts.
I wrote this the 31st October, sorry for the late upload, just been very busy. This poem was an actual description of how I felt that day
Katherine Laslie Nov 2015
There are things
Only a trained eye can see
While others
Go through life so obliviously

To see your loved ones
Die in a car crash
A thousand times
Dying over and over
Because the images just won't leave your mind

A body burning
In an oven
Begging for someone
To save him
The heat slowly eats
Away at his skin

An unknown person
Faceless
Nameless
Skinned alive
Lies in a meat cooler
Blending in with
the animals
Who shared the same fate

There are things
That only a trained eye can see
A pool of blood
With no visible source
The grim reaper
Has taken his hold on you
And you can't run
From these delusions
That plague
You
Katherine Laslie Nov 2015
I want
To cut myself
Wide open

Digging the blade
Deep down
Into my organs

I feel so exposed
So I'll expose
What's inside
This precious
Body of mine

The blood
So addicting
I want to drown
In Crimson red
For the rest of my life

The skin
Peeling away
Sending my nerves
All aflame
To feel the soft flesh
That lies beneath
Flesh that no one
Was ever meant to see

My soul
Is protruding
Trying to escape
I want to let it out
But I'm crying from pain

My heart
Starts to stammer
Lungs convulse
To reach for air
I start to let go
As I disappear
Katherine Laslie Oct 2015
With a twist
Of a
Blade
All my pain
Is erased

As the blood
Flows strong
My existence
Is replaced
With a
Void

I made a
Nuse
When I was
Young
Out of my
Clothes
And tried to
Suffocate myself
Because I hated
Everything
That had to do with me

But that never got me far
For I'm still here
Living
Breathing air
Much to my despair
Katherine Laslie Oct 2015
The streetlights
Illuminate
the night with colors
That words cannot
Relate

The darkness has
Consumed
The sunlight that's
Refused
To ever shine again
And now we're trapped
in the darkness within

The demons, they are
Lurking
Searching for the blood
That they are thirsting

As the night
Swallows us whole
A black void
That devours
Our souls
Next page