I am staring
Not seeing anything
With my eyes wide open
As the darkness grows
Ever deeper around me.
Life is
A pale distorted imitation
Of a distressed dreamer
Unable to wake up
From the blackest nightmares.
Down the damning blackness
Does my soul slide forth
Where nothing matters
Beyond ending the pain.
Days are marked
By thin groups
Of six lines
Crossed out
Drawn in blood.
Feeling life's entropy
Grows ever more chaotic
As order is
An illusionary cruel joke
No one is laughing.
Down the damning blackness
Does my soul slide forth
Where nothing matters
Beyond ending the pain.
The line
Connecting body and soul
A tightly tangled cord
Wrapped around the neck
Awaiting the fall.
Where death means
Waking up
From the blackest
Of nightmares
In someone else's dream.
Therisa © 2018
Author's note: Before anyone thinks that I am deeply depressed bordering on suicide, I am not. From time to time, I have this need to write really dark Gothic poetry. Some of the best songs, Robert Smith has written are very dark, in nature, like Faith, Pornography and From The Edge Of The Deep Green Sea (this song about a suicide).
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