i can no longer post in my first thread

MISERE

I wish life was black and white.
I wish the world was natural, and unadulterated.
I wish we could see the purity of intimacy; perverse, but not sexual.

Before everything I knew was washed away by pale opiate oceans.
Oceans that turned me numb, mute, and gray.
Like a corpse wandering hither and thither,
Minding this forlorn purgatory at passing glances and wishful thinking.
Alone.

Here is everything you’ve ever loved, in flames.
So surreal, we’re chasing our tails into sordid skies of pure white light.
You know the stench of complacency, and you feel the pain of hunger,
But you still bend the knee to mourning made flesh, crowned in thorns.

All that I taste is ashes.
All that I see is blank.

I am God, and I am maimed and deteriorating.

This post was edited by nerobellum on Feb 9 2013 06:55pm

ALWAYS & FOREVER

Lonely men are leading foolish men to greedy men, and
Greedy men are leading mourning men to one; absent.
And you want me to call him, “father.”

The will and wisdom of a limbless mute, entrusted to
A black tongue spitting blind guidance into deaf ears.
And you want me to call him, “father.”

Here I am, here I stay.
With no love, no sorrow, no hope, and one fear.

You love me in fear of death and the void thereafter.
Who am I to love in fear of my own long life?

“Gradually. Then suddenly. That’s how depression hits.
You wake up one morning, afraid that you’re going to live.”

YOU'RE SO LUCKY

There’s nothing quite as ambitious as torture and self-mutilation,
Or the premeditated gang rape of your own subconscious.
After all the cuts and burns have healed and all the gasps for air
Have been answered, you still can’t feel a thing.

I think you should just kill yourself.

PERDITION.

There’s something altogether intriguing about depression to me. Rather, my own depressive tendencies.
I feel like our culture has branded depression incorrectly, and the name “depression” is in itself a misrepresentation of the symptoms it describes.
When you hear the word, “depressed” you automatically associate it with sorrow, misery, and otherwise negative emotions.

However, a closer assumption would be to describe depression as the absence of positive emotions.
There’s no love, no joy, and no hope.
What’s more, I feel the accurate representation of depression is that there’s no love, no joy, no hope, no sorrow, no misery, and no desire.

My writing and otherwise all other creative outlets don’t serve an emotional purpose to me, there’s no enjoyment from it.
It occupies my time.
It’s informative, not creative.
This is what it means to be human to me.

In the end, if you find yourself at home with what you read, what you hear, and what you see, then maybe you should ask yourself the same question that I do every time I need to sleep, and every time I am supposed to get out of bed.

It’s because you’re bored.

I think you should just kill yourself.

The Dead Flag Blues, by Godspeed You! Black Emperor

The car is on fire, and there's no driver at the wheel
And the sewers are all muddied with a thousand lonely suicides
And a dark wind blows

The government is corrupt
And we're on so many drugs
With the radio on and the curtains drawn

We're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine
And the machine is bleeding to death

The sun has fallen down
And the billboards are all leering
And the flags are all dead at the top of their poles

It went like this:

The buildings tumbled in on themselves
Mothers clutching babies
Picked through the rubble
And pulled out their hair

The skyline was beautiful on fire
All twisted metal stretching upwards
Everything washed in a thin orange haze

I said, "Kiss me, you're beautiful -
These are truly the last days"

You grabbed my hand
And we fell into it
Like a daydream
Or a fever

We woke up one morning and fell a little further down
For sure it's the valley of death

I open up my wallet
And it's full of blood

HANG-MAN

My base instinct of self-reliance and survival have been stripped from me,
Now I’m left gnawing at my own tongue
In an effort to quell my gag reflex from churning eight letters caked in
Bacterial tar and infectious smoke.
Eight letters that will cancer-coat your very core with the pain of being human.
Eight letters that will spill your last drop and siphon marrow from your cold bones.
I’ll lie to you; I’ll lie to myself.
I really, just...

I’ll keep limping forward, serving up my last bits of strength
On a silver platter called “Hope” to gather the nails that held our life together.
One stake for every lie:
“We’ll be together forever,
I’ll love you until the end of days,
Until death do us part.”
I’ve stumbled full-circle, to a cross called home.

I _ _ _ _ you.

a e i o u e i a a
h y n t l v l p r s

HUNGRY

Still water, born broken.
You can’t feed a mouth with hopes and dreams.
An ovation of wolves howling, “FREEDOM!”
Umbilical noose, this is entirely your fault.
Blessed be, He works in mysterious ways indeed.

Rusting mercy, sickle cutthroat.
Let loose the wolves, let loose your fears.
Dream of darker days to slip tight a veil of
Twilight ignorance to blind your prying eyes
From your own affliction of love and loss.

In the midst of life, you are in death.

Posting just to keep my thread alive, to prevent a repeat of my first attempt.

Posting just to keep my thread alive, to prevent a repeat of my first attempt.

Posting just to keep my thread alive, to prevent a repeat of my first attempt.