Gates

[Jerking For Soup]

A poem

 

Broken wings, parasites,
Pseudo-conscious objection,
I don't exist, no daylight,
Aerobullosis, spreading infection,
Posoinous Dopamine,
Existence is nothing to me,
but a bittersweetly messy scene,
Suicide is calling me,
I can fade away clean and serene,
Radio Show Host gone insane,
screams and shouts in vile pain,
spreads the virus through your lane,
I don't need a car to dive,
drown in pitiful sorrow,
just like I don't need to be alive,
time I cannot borrow,
mastered the fine art of emptiness,
acid is pouring into my lungs,
actor's dialogue bitter yet pretentious,
alien mistress speaks in tongues,
I don't need a will to live,
neocortex so illusive,
my oesophagus is occlusive
suicide you said it wouldn't hurt yet my body's not recovering.

There are no answers,
I can't breathe,
standing here debating whether to stay,
Waiting for the reaper and I can't wait,
to finally meet my end of the day,
Midnight bring my soul to waste,
I don't want to appear at any gates.

Conscientious nectar,
I can not escape,
Insect larvae permeator,
My conscious is being raped,
Capsized plummetting to Earth,
Spiralling down through fear,
Memories burning over a hearth,
Falling through the sphere,
Abortion of the luciferic spirit,
Anaemia, I satanicly possess it,
yet I push it to it's darkest limit,
bury me in my own corrosive tears,
in fibers made of my own suffering,
flowers coated by my own fears,
helps me fade into nothing,
Melting down into a thick white paste,
starved of vital carbon monoxide,
pools of my own blood made in haste,
cherrypick the needles and let me autocide,
Immolate my soul and let me burn,
My soothing screams now return,
My ashes now entombed in an iron urn,
Fading out watching my residue contaminate this plane, I don't want to leave, but I have to.

There are no answers,
I can't breathe,
standing here debating whether to stay,
Waiting for the reaper and I can't wait,
to finally meet my end of the day,
Midnight bring my soul to waste,
I don't need to appear at any gates.

 

Emotion, please, Runaway, Runaway, from me,
It deserves much better than I,
Who am I but a joyless anomaly,
a tearful homesick terrified martian?
Construct my empty figure to melt away,
to fade away, to be gone,
Once to die, Once to fall,
the lonesome corpse lay pale,
upon the cold floral doorstep,
the life only intention to fail,
intestinal worms feed on the embers,
once a figure, then a shell, now an object,
passed away to bleeding winter,
once a shape, then remains, now residue,
bleached in cold alkaline blood,
emotional lake, what remains? not a clue,
slowly falling through hyperspace,
the weeping apprentice of despair,
disappearing without any trace,
please don't give a prayer,
a tear emerges in the final moments,
my entire life I just want to erase,
there are no tears left to pour,
my fabricated existence no more,
as my body distengrates on the floor,

Where's the luxury of having a heart?
I don't feel alive, I'm being cut apart,
How's the luxury of having a brain?
I can't survive, I'm always being drained,
What's the luxury in feeling bored?
Please, I'm not looking for belief in a Lord,
I'm swimming around, might try diving in,
never coming back, my patience growing thin.

Edited December 1, 2018 by Jerking For Soup