Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
TheSaneSaloon May 2020
Comedy,
Writing,
Drawing and painting.
Woodworking,
Welding and making.
Circuitry,
Electronics and more.
Pneumatic, mechanic, IC chips galore.

***** in the veins,
Mental state skewed and torn.
Hangovers battled, and seemingly won...
...While the body grows numb...
...Waking to limbs lost in hazy hum.

So roll another,
Tobacco makes its mark—
Lungs defiled,
Body failing,
Cherries burn brightest in the dark.

Lets call some lucky,
That they knew from the start,
While I continued hoping,
He would come back and restart.

The years draw on,
The day the pickup drove away,
I screamed for him,
Did he hear? check the review mirror and then accelerate?

Children of my own, a wife, and a home.

5150,
It's waiting....
It's ready, patiently prone.

Context needed,
Needed for concepts to churn
Listen closely.
A decibel past a whisper —
A Truth heard from the urn.
TheSaneSaloon Apr 2020
Dying by suicide.
Drowning myself,
Scorching myself,
Withering and frail,
Mental suicide,
Pickled brain,
Chasing my tail.

The courage lost,
That day I set sail.

Myself and my sorrows,
Going down with the ship,
Clutched to one another-
Drowning partners,
Vests float on by.
We are going down with the ship.

Now, I'm stuck down here.
A fate unforeseen.
Here, at the bottom of the sea.
A pocket of air and borrowed breath-
Water collapses in,
And stifles my cry to be free.

Blackness ensues,
People mourn.
A heart renews,
Mending what was once torn.

Looking down, the ships float on by.
Knowing now,
They all sail on a bottomless sea.
And their end,
Is their only chance to be free.
when my time comes
it comes
and I will gladly leave
to those who go on living
the task of sorting out
the mess I have accumulated
over years

let them discover
not only the stamp collection
the bank accounts
but also unknown niches
of their father’s/friend’s/husband’s life
the words unspoken
scribbled on some paper
thoughts never shared
for lack of time or opportunity
the letters to a friend of yore
emails to many people
hints of potential
love affairs that maybe never happened
ideas to change the world
into a better place

here I am
  now with a 7 before my years
envisioning life after death

a sign of vanity
perhaps
or an expression of despair

I am not sure

it may just be
the fleeting thoughts
on a clear winter evening
when cold creeps slowly
but insistently
into your bones

reminding you

   of all that cold space
   in our universe
   how it grows larger by the second

making you wonder
if it has a plan
and if that plan
includes you
speculating
about your destiny

        * *
Next page