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Kapu Dec 2019
Death is not how you think she is
or how I think she is.
She is silently staring
from a dark corner
in a shady alley.

She is tall, slim,
like a skyscraper.
She has dark,  long hair,
that falls to the earth and covers it, like curtains.
(It blinds us.)

She is beautiful when seen from afar.
She waits for you,
on that old motel bed with spread arms (and legs).

Her eyes are deep,
They show you what it could be.
And her lips whisper empty promises (falacies).

Death smiles at you.
(she likes to smile)
You can see her yellow,
splintered teeth,
that reek of coffee and cigarettes.

From her mansion, she laughs,
throws *****.
Spreads pests,
while drinking wine she collected
as you cut your wrists with expertise.

It falls like a stream of crimson
inside her cup.
What a delight!
You give her that alcohol (addictive).

Death cries when she loses
does not go to funerals.
Jumps the rope with a bag of bones.
And sometimes comes
as soon as you call.

Deep down, she is very lonely.
Wishes for love.
Wishes for you to love her.
You wish to love her too.
(It is easier than loving yourself)
All words in brackets are whispers. The entire thing was a vision, meant to be a portrait. Now a vague poem, that has been in the works since 2015 (and perhaps will continue to be).
Thanks for reading!
How many times I betrayed myself for two pennies of loneliness?
The act is so old, and after time, poverty is the best teacher,
But there are evergrey examples that never change;
I am one of them, for ever strange.

Did Judas' tinkling silvers burn brands into my hands?
Or by any chance, I am himself, suffering through centuries,
Living my own betrayal against myself and fans;
Just as I sold the prophet for the centuries?

Is there any chance that this world were real, all the happenings?
I truly suffered through histories and left behind all blessings,
Tormented by living and imagining;
I forgot everything about me.
A tick and a click are rhyming up in a lame flame,
A thick stick of dry herb is the flame's aim,
That starts to burn and blatter in a burring pain,
Framed by a grey fog, hiding its disdain.

The mere pain of life urges this hateful act,
Looking for more pain pack by pack,
Claiming if there's no stop, I want more of that,
Waiting and feeling and waiting and feeling,
The sniff-by-sniff approaching Death.
First year of smoking.

Nikolas Jul 2019
Self-destruction is a way to ease pain,
But it's only feeding the rain,
you're causing.

You've got to step out of love,
Step into mud,
For what?

It's a habit that's hard to let go of,
But easier to not know of,
If you have it.

Just lean in for help,
It's on the way,
For you.

You can ease your pain as much as you want to.
Crys Jul 2019
It began as a silent whisper, this screaming in my brain.
I'm not worthy of love, happiness or a peaceful mind.
They crept in at my most joyous moments, just to permanently revoke that joy.

It began as a silent whisper, this screaming in my brain.
I couldn't escape my conscience, I thought it was always there for me.
The screams pierced my body, sent chills down my spine.

It began as a silent whisper, this screaming in my brain.
They were so vocal, I couldn't hear my own voice
begging them to stop.
I lost control over that which guided me.
I crashed into self-destruction and drowned in tears, fearful I'd never resurface.

It began as a silent whisper, this screaming in my brain.
The screaming that never ends.
-help me
fray narte Jul 2019
she liked vibrant colors.
how could she not?

i mean,
see how striking
red looked

against the paleness
of her wrists
fray narte Jul 2019
writing you poems feels like relapsing into self-destruction
fray narte Jul 2019
you —
kissing the scars on my skin;
such a delicate, carefully crafted
form of poetry, honey,
i will lay it down apollo's altar.

your lips.
my wrists.

and again.

and for a moment there,
they don't look like
a bedlam of veins cut open.
for a moment there,
they look nowhere near
the metaphors
used in place of my self-destruction.
I’m the queen of self-destruction
watching each bridge go up in flames.
A basket case of pure dysfunction
torturing others with my childish games.

I’m the perfect psychological warfare
collecting broken hearts along the way.
A gorgeously horrifying nightmare
waiting for my next vulnerable prey.

I'm the monster you lured into light
after you showed me how worthless I am.
A poisonous snake ready to bite
leaving ****** ring fingers in the sand.

I’m the swinging wrecking ball
destroying everything I can see.
A broken mess on a spiraling fall
after loving you nearly killed me.
I wrote this a while back when my divorce and separation was still fresh and I went through a phase of very self destructive behavior.
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