I knew you had the blade when I turned my back on you
the straight razor with the pearl handle, stolen from your grandfather's old shaving kit
I knew you were behind me, knew you were not going to let me walk out
and when I felt the cold steel whisper on my throat,
I knew this was the way it had to be:
your breath, hot in my ear, saying
I love you.
So I'm in a mood. I am filled with anger, and when I am, this is what comes out.
In the white room, there is silence, solitude
When I cut my wrists, words pour out, black and white, seething, choking
filling the space, building a new world,
one in which I am not welcome
I live a good life. Solid, responsible. Why, then, this fire inside? Why is my head filled with these terrible images?
I feed the pages to the flames, one by one,
the lives I created burning to ash,
I can hear them cry out
page after page, burning cities consumed by fire
I will never be free, will never be empty
I will never be alone
I have insurance. I have a reasonable mortgage. I have a station wagon that I drive, every morning, on a very reasonable commute. I have a loving family and a stable relationship.
When the ghosts come, they tear me to pieces,
take everything, leaving only empty memories,
a husk that can walk and say the right things
They return to the darkness, laughing
The hollow vessel walks into the future
I have done everything right, have achieved everything I have ever dreamed, received every gift, had every prayer answered, and somehow this has filled me with rage.
Stability is a chain. A blessing. A curse.
Still Writing,
RP
4-22-16
It has been a long time since I have written anything interesting, and I have been feeling bottled up. I decided to purge some words and this is what I got. I don't know what it is or what it means, but it isn't boring, so there's that.
I'm fine by the way. Really. It might say something about my writing that I have to constantly reassure people that I am OK, and not considering something unthinkable, but I promise you I am fine. Maybe out there is someone that isn't, though, and maybe they will read this and feel less alone. Maybe.
Cheers.
the straight razor with the pearl handle, stolen from your grandfather's old shaving kit
I knew you were behind me, knew you were not going to let me walk out
and when I felt the cold steel whisper on my throat,
I knew this was the way it had to be:
your breath, hot in my ear, saying
I love you.
So I'm in a mood. I am filled with anger, and when I am, this is what comes out.
In the white room, there is silence, solitude
When I cut my wrists, words pour out, black and white, seething, choking
filling the space, building a new world,
one in which I am not welcome
I live a good life. Solid, responsible. Why, then, this fire inside? Why is my head filled with these terrible images?
I feed the pages to the flames, one by one,
the lives I created burning to ash,
I can hear them cry out
page after page, burning cities consumed by fire
I will never be free, will never be empty
I will never be alone
I have insurance. I have a reasonable mortgage. I have a station wagon that I drive, every morning, on a very reasonable commute. I have a loving family and a stable relationship.
When the ghosts come, they tear me to pieces,
take everything, leaving only empty memories,
a husk that can walk and say the right things
They return to the darkness, laughing
The hollow vessel walks into the future
I have done everything right, have achieved everything I have ever dreamed, received every gift, had every prayer answered, and somehow this has filled me with rage.
Stability is a chain. A blessing. A curse.
Still Writing,
RP
4-22-16
It has been a long time since I have written anything interesting, and I have been feeling bottled up. I decided to purge some words and this is what I got. I don't know what it is or what it means, but it isn't boring, so there's that.
I'm fine by the way. Really. It might say something about my writing that I have to constantly reassure people that I am OK, and not considering something unthinkable, but I promise you I am fine. Maybe out there is someone that isn't, though, and maybe they will read this and feel less alone. Maybe.
Cheers.
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