#self-destruction
*“we break things not just as a means of release but also to see
some other thing broken aside from ourselves.”*
You asked me how
I got my hand broken
And I told you it’s
because the walls aren’t
getting any weaker
While I,
I am tired of trying hard
and I’m too worn out to fight
I am fed up with
all the things
I used to love
so I’ve been thinking ’bout
taking my life
but I see the walls
are all around
and I get the urge
to let it out
and so i do…
If I can no longer speak,
the walls would
for me;
they’d tell you a story
on how I turn
into something else
when I’m sad,
and how they stop me
when I’m not
in the right mind
and they’d tell you about
these little scars I have,
and all of the frustrations
I’m keeping inside.
You asked why and
I told you,
’cause they hear me,
when no one else will
and they feel it all,
every inch of my skin
when I lay it on them
so if walls could speak,
they’d tell you how I
hurt them
to hurt me
every single night.
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 2:21 AM UTC
You are a tornado.
You spin anyone too close to you, leaving them in a dizzy fit.
You break them before they break you.
No wonder I thought I loved you.
A tornado like me.
Promising trouble at every turn.
You whispered, "I love you".
Presenting it with secrecy.
Holding me hostage with twisted logic.
I am a tornado, I admit it.
And two tornados only bring more chaos.
I'm self-destructive but, you're too much for me.
Your lips were drowned in chloroform.
And I kissed you for the burn.
The same way I smoke cigarettes to pollute my lungs.
We drag each other to hell.
Shoot each other's hearts.
Naming it love, so we don't have to call it "just ***
You were always too much for me.
Too much chaos.
In return, I was presented with such little love.
We wrapped up each other's hearts.
Hid them in the shelves.
And danced away our summer days in my sheets.
Sep 24, 2016
Sep 24, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
Them: Depression feeds off all this isolation
Me: But what I do in it, is the only thing that delays my impulses
Them: Use coping skills.
Me: The only coping skills that work are the ones that destroy me
Them: You feel so lonely because you put up a wall and block people out
Me: I feel so lonely because people never approach me to see if I'm okay
Them: Don't think too much, it brings you down
Me: I can't help but think too much, my mind never turns off and the gears are always turning.
Them: Stop looking at violence
Me: But it helps with the anger inside my head
Them: Just keep having faith, having hope
Me: Faith is an illusion and hope is a lie
Them: You will make it through this and then you can live your life
Me: I will live through this until it will take my life
Them: You can never return to a memory, don't think of the past
Me: But memories are all I have that might bring me a small smile of happiness to my face
Them: I can help you, you just have to let me
Me: I have let you and your words depress me even more
Them: There is a point where we can't help you, you're going to have to save yourself.
Me: And that is why there was never hope
Them: You will live and have a better life soon
Me: I have lived and they all tell me you can't go back to memories
Them: You are alive
Me: I died far before they found me lying on the ground in the room
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
I love the wind’s howling.
The breath of God surrounds me.
It’s angry and loud.
It says
Destroy yourselves!
and we do.
Well we do a bit,
but we’re so obsessed with living.
What the hell for?
******* parasites.
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:46 PM UTC
planning suicide
taste-testing cyanide
gun powder blush
drunk driving lush
hit on myself
burried by a shelf
pretty lace noose
back-rolling caboose
trip to a cliff
rat poison spliff
davey’s locker dive
****** du killer bee hive
releasing the Kraken
monoxide hose in the back end
a sleep not to dream
an end to the mean.
a dip in formaldehyde
planning suicide.
Jun 21, 2016
Jun 21, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
flesh is nothing but a plastic cover
and if you s t r e t c h it far enough
the seams begin to rip, hovering
a guideline instead of a fence
a tongue is nothing but a stretchy strawberry
and if you cut it clean in half
the seeds disperse, swearing
to rearrange the words into normal speech
the brain is nothing but playdough
and if you let it mold
the pink uncoils, forgetting Plato
remembering nothing
the smile is nothing but a bunch of ugly mirrors
and if you rip them out by the roots
the spotlights reverse, it only gets worse
and you stare at your self-destruction for eternity.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
Lost and confused, he found a path.
He followed it like the yellow brick road
Looking to find the wizard of Oz
For his one and only wish - HAPPINESS.
Yet, the yellow brick road he followed
Only led him to a path of self-destruction;
Because along the way he discovered distractions
To numb the pain until he found the wizard.
Until he found happiness.
He found comfort in those distractions
Which quickly turned into addictions.
Now he is stuck ,
In the middle of that yellow brick road .
Because the distractions he discovered along the way
Were destroying his soul; one bottle of *****
And bag of **** at a time.
A part of him has given up on finding the wizard.
So he indulges in his own self-destruction; stuck on a path that was meant to save him. To save him from himself.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
I wander down the path
Seemingly still and quiet
No shadows in sight
But a light so bright
What could be, this Enigma?
I’m mesmerized, so transfixed
And with its grace and beauty
It rejects every stigma
my Invigoration
simple conjuration
of feeble elation
becomes condemnation
an exacerbation
of lost contemplation
falling to the floor i find myself
beyond salvation and left to starvation
I did not choose this, to feel this, or to be thrown away
My intentions are gold, no ill will in sight
but they choose to see what they want
HARK!
A figure engulfs the horizon
Shrouded and concealed from the world
It charges forth as a familiar phantom
It strikes me back as I stagger away
Its cloak blackens the sky to my dismay
as air evaporates bleeding my mind astray
but hope is in sight for I have found a knife!
again and again, Brutus would be proud
for the pool beneath the figure must end my strife
and to the figure, I remove its cowl
lo and behold, the face is my own
reality then breaks at the seams
to have this fate, I couldn’t have known
lost and diluted much like my dreams
My hands remain red
Trapped in my own head
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
we are the masters of self-destruction
trying to numb the pain with wine
and drugs
and smoke filling up our lungs,
we write down in lines with no rhyme
all the things
that make our souls burn and die.
our poems bleed
we drink their blood
then we write again,
listening to stupid songs all night
wishing sometimes we were deaf
wishing we were dead.
we let the doors open
anyone with a knife can come inside
cutting our hearts in half,
any tear is welcome
to create the ocean around us
in which we deliberately drown ourselves.
masters of self-destruction,
our bodies are temples where dying souls hide,
we run till our legs are broken
jump off cliffs
go between sharks' cheeks
forgetting to sleep
to dream
we bleed
we drink
we love
and hurt
it's a madmen game we play
each day
laughing hysterically
while slowly taking steps to the graves
we dug for ourselves,
the masters of self-destruction we are
lunatics
worshiping what's not for us to adore
crying
hiding
falling again
and again.
legs broken,
hearts cut and eaten
flesh ripped from our bones
lungs full of water
ears burnt
our eyes scream
but that's fine
'cause we are the masters of self-destruction
and our life is just a mad game
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
I crave bitter things when I’ve not eaten
Like how water tastes perfect when you’ve an angry thirst
But it’s really normal
Fundamental
And nothing more than necessary
Like breathing after swimming the whole length underwater
Well I’ve not eaten yet today
It’s the way I feel most like a bad person
Crave the devil for punishment
Find comfort there instead of in a willing peace
I’ve always been a reckless wanderlust
Nothing’s ever easy
Because I make sure of it
And if it’s offering I make sure to decline
If you want my love I’ll be sure to keep it
Just out of spite
All to myself
If you want me to do well
I’ll fail just on principle
Control
Chaos
All a servant of my choice
I’ll choose you
The bitter food
Deliberately starved as I am
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 7:05 PM UTC
I watch a moth above an open fire.
It must be well known that moths use the stars to navigate home
that they may often mistake a streetlight or torch for one.
and as I watch it fly through the flames
again and again
burning away its paper wings
I wonder how easy it must be
to mistake the scorching heat to the warmth of a star
to think that
maybe,
if you flew close enough,
theses flames might take you home.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 12:49 AM UTC
A devil stands on my both my shoulders
They whisper, "just do it, no one cares anyway"
So I take this weapon of self destruction
And cut away to bleed out the guilt until I feel nothing at all...
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 6:16 AM UTC
Loving you is the meaning of my self-destruction.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 5:48 AM UTC
Your presence is tangible
Across the vast expanse
Yet, I hear not your voice
I feel not your longing
Mine, is the only heart I hear
Alone, for the first time in eternity
Alone, wrapped in your essence
Just a whisper of warmth
A choice all your own
To be alone
A choice that you have forgotten
Includes me
For we flow throughout each other
Still, here we are
I feel you trying not to feel me
And I close my eyes
Praying death over a life that begins here
And ends without you
'tis not a choice could I make
'tis not a life...alone
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
Not often, but
there are times
when the noise in my head
turns way up
and the dial breaks off,
and all I want is quiet,
when I feel the pull
of something terminal,
feel the dark, velvety lure
of swallowed pills or gun barrel,
the stealthy seduction of carbon monoxide,
the skull-exploding swan dive
onto shocked concrete,
the warm bath with low light and sharp blades.
I can covet that big, simple answer, too, sometimes.
I can long for that complete, forever silence.
But I know I'm only window shopping.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 8:16 AM UTC
I've been on a journey, took a trip and a half.
Tempted by fate, I decided my path.
Took confusion and anger, mixed it with speed.
I created my hell, to which this journey did lead.
¨
I looked into hell, and saw twisted ******* inside.
They turned fear against me, my weakness was pride.
I refused to be broken, but searched for my best
I found fear but a feeling, which belonged with the rest.
With a jump to my step, I put a skip in my charge.
My heart it was racing, my ego enlarged.
Returning once more, I made my way back.
To a world now so different, I climbed through the crack.
I faced my own end, with humility and grace.
I stared my own hell, straight in the face.
with choices so few, I rose on above.
My Instinct my guide, it lead me with love.
My life wasn't over, not ended complete.
And in my short madness, I defeated defeat.
Have strength my dear friends, there's hope each new day.
Remember you choose hell, and let it take you away.
We make our own hell, we breath in it life.
Fueling its fires, with anger and strife.
don't give in to darkness, be a star seen above.
shining your kindness and compassion and love.
Destroy your own hell, before its too late
your life is in your hands, don't give in to fate.
Take heed of my warning, and learn from my tale
Arrogance consumes you, and will cause you to fail.
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
Poison put in a sacred chamber
seeps into its pores.
There is a dark storm on the horizon -
Let's have fun.
The storm will never come.
Swift, numbing winds blow
across the arid plain
with a hushed belligerence.
They are bringing the storm this way.
Familiar foes fill the empty space.
The storm is back.
First, the wind blows me back
And I am numb.
And I am gone.
After the winds, the storm hits.
Days go by.
Then, the storm is gone,
and I can see the sun.
I can see the sun,
but I cannot feel it on my face.
The storm is inside me
where the sun cannot reach.
Forever, I will carry the storm.
I will wait for the next wind to blow
So at least I can feel numb.
This poison.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
I don't know anymore, I don't understand myself
and my surroundings, I don't like who I am becoming.
A moment I'm okay and then in pain.
The soft sounds of melodies , flow through my brain, reminding me that I'm not sane. I don't know if this is normal and I couldn't really care, I'm just so sad and I don't understand.
I'm scared and it hurts to much to care, I wish I understood this feeling because now....
...I don't know who I am.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
I craved presence and dreamt of intimacy:
of arms wrapped tight around me in the darkness
and lips like wildfire scorching throughout my skin.
Of midnight drives and trips to crowd-less theaters,
chafed balaclavas and pseudo-murder sprees.
Of laughter and a smile not like the sunlight
but the moon's: enigmatic, forlorn, lonely.
Of self-destruction and notorious luxuries,
and hands, laced against my own,
comforting, solid,
a drop of water in the desert.
(A kind of love that could give me what I wanted,
and what I wanted was oblivion.)
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
people romanticize self-harm
as if it's nothing special
and really, no one is alarmed
everyone's stopped being careful
it's not just about the blood
it really eats your heart out
the suffering makes your head flood
and everything seems so loud
you can't just seek pitiful attention
saying "oh, look, i'm depressed"
you really do deserve a lecture
because the real deal would say so much less
cutting ruins your body
it also pierces your soul
you seek a friend or just anybody
but you always end up alone
the cup of coffee in the morning
is the only thing keeping you alive
the rest of the time you're crying
trying to get thoughts out of your mind
you've got a stash of blades
hiding under your bed
today your sister got engaged
and you might end up dead
you try to down twenty pills
with a chug of burning *****
maybe then you'd see flowery hills
but it's just likely to cause you trauma
you stare at your own blank wall
trying to find a slimmer of hope
and nobody's there to watch you fall
as you exit this life with some dope
Aug 23, 2015
Aug 23, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
Today I was free, Today I was fine,I
remembered what it felt to feel alive.
I remembered how it felt to breathe, the air within my lungs.
But I knew it wouldn't last this long. I heard whispers at the back of
my mind, stopping her to thrive.
It didn't matter, today was good.Thats all that was truly on
my mind.
It was great, today I made my Escape.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC