Tag Archives: suicide

Asylum of the Night

Broken in a ways that they can’t detect the pain
It comes to me at night
I try to sleep in vain

Silently walking through the streets
In my mind
But my body gives me away
A fight for time

“I solemnly swear to try and stop breaking” goes my old melodic saying

It’s never quite fulfilled
Then I wear the shadow of shame
A beautiful coat that others see as game


My throat clogs up when I try to explain this saying
My eyes well up when I realise all my cuts are in the way

I pray for a tongue that can explain the pain
Away away
I can’t keep up with the saying
My flesh is weak and all it knows is betrayal

My darting eyes cannot disguise the weight of this cloak
I’m out of time

And in mother’s womb I pray and pray
That I should never awake and face this doom

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Jacobi’s Curse

Eerily missing the blood that your tears shed
Missing the darkness that held you by the throat and choked you
The dark smoke that gagged you

The dark master that gave you glimpses of a light
His punishment your vice
The disgrace a small pleasure in your life

Revealing all your demons in the comfort of this mental cage

Embracing and beautifully exploiting those painful experiences

Crawling up your legs on lonely nights
Giving you pleasure from his nihilistic annihilation, flagellation

You are truly sick for missing the bleak sensuality of your soul.

But your reality is one of pain and pessimism, existential positivity and plurality can no longer contain your soul that slips out of the bottle God supposedly held.

So you are consumed until there is nothing left of you.

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What Is Art?

Art doesn’t feel like what it should be.

A feeling of freedom free from this world of social and emotional constraints

There is no freedom of flight in fancy

Or a direction of love and humanity

Or even of fear and wretchedness

Instead I am left facing the skulls of critics

Art critics

Something that was meant to be wholly individual has now become a place to put another intellectual pedestal

When does Art cease to be free from restraints?

Is it when one is depressed and lonely?

Or when they have finally committed that act of suicide

Van Gogh, we failed you

Basquait, I wish we had properly known you

But instead all we did was use you and monetise you

Disregarding the true nature of the pain in your fame

McQueen, though we hail you, we did not know the true meaning of bearing your name

Art is nought but a game to some

Too many a route to fame

But there is nothing to gain once all have wet their lips with your name

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Section G

Violets of all variety drift to and fro


The graves of poppies

Parted by a sky

As blue

And as purple, as snow


We all meditate

Try and find our sun


Some more than others

Some realising they have not one


Trees hold our life span

Across leaves as plain as you may


Levitating matter

Deprived, abyss-like minds


Oh sun,

When will thoust shine on me?

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3-D Cube

There she stands




the object of humiliative scrutiny


I look.

Her tears her discomfort

i feel nothing… So i continue.


The torture rises through my actions

my early mornings

And my late nights.

The amalgamation


Trapped in a box mirror with continuous gilded frames


Waiting for it to shatter


i can go on no longer, She needs me

I can feel her, taste her

I am Her.


Please… Help Me free Me

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