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Suicide isn't a Thank You

 

SachikoMochiko & SinisterPotatoe (Jack)

 

“Jack!” my heart falls into a deep, dark, cold abyss as saltwater crystals rush like a waterfall down my cheeks. He ended it. Officers held me back, refraining me from attending his bloody body…his soul has left.

 

Three months’ post-Jack’s departure, I scuffle his belongings. The old apartment was dewy and rusty at the same time. My calloused fingertips hover past a dusty paper. Hidden. Hidden behind his mirror. I carefully unfold the dust-magnet flat. A poem:

 

From the hollow pit of my emotions, I’ve reached the end

 

The end, that determines my fate…

 

I’ve reached the end, my only friend

 

The end, that leaves me bent

=

 

Around the bend, regards have been sent

 

The very bend left the very dent

 

As I fend off the reality…I’m bent

 

=

 

O’ since the blood drips to my fingertips

 

We struggle…I struggle

 

I know it’s hard, we’ve come so far, but everything will eventually be over

 

Like a story…all stories end, eh?

 

So, I’ll be the one to end it

 

=

 

What goes up must come down…it’s the law

 

But the law isn’t any determinant…

 

We protect the law, right?

 

==

 

Shhh…

--

 

Before my empty shell is found dead

 

Before my empty shell, where my soul left, morphs back to the Earth…where I belong

 

 I promise not to frown

 

 If you’re still in town, I beg you visit my grave,

 

 but I’m sorry my sadness wasn’t a faze

 

And if your soul is more than grazed by my departure

 

Know that through all the torture and the pain,

 

Through all the blood, the tears and the wails…

 

 you were the one who kept me sane

 

==

 

Surely, this is an excuse

 

Well, my only friend…

 

I am mistaken, I am not bent

 

I am not dented

 

But I am broken…unable to function anymore,

 

in this beautifully rotten world

 

=

 

Sunshine or rain, I beg you to refrain from crying,

 

 because at least, I am healed through death

 

I’m biding my holy time, with every new rhyme it’s a struggle. I can’t smuggle happiness back into my life…

 

It’s against the law…the laws that I wrote inside my young, naïve mind

 

The very laws that kept me in this cage

 

With all this baggage and luggage, I act like I’m at peace

 

At heart, I’m being weighed down by myself

 

I pound at the barrier between me and others, my prison,

 

I’m chained and bound, pulled down, buried in the mud, I was forgotten

 

But I’ve risen above it

 

I love it, life, and every knife in the back has brought me a crack in the wall,

 

however small, someday I’ll break free

 

I’ve brought forth emotions that have sought to honor the ones who never run from my side

 

I don’t abide by reasons to cry unless they are tears of joy or a new way to get stronger

 

When I rot, when my body is nothing but issue

 

a goner north of my goals, dead in my hole at least I’ll know my soul was honorable

 

And if your sad, don’t be

 

I know you think suicide isn’t a thank you, but it’s a sign of escape

 

Escape from this prison that binds me…

 

Twists me…

 

Bends me…

 

Breaks me…

 

Have faith, my honors always been a stake, don’t worry, fake words, tongues that lie will eventually break

 

===

After all, what goes up must come down

 

 

And when that happens you will no longer frown, stick around and keep your mouth shut until you have the right to speak

 

Because suicide may kill me, and weak freaks are fodder for lies, and propaganda flies its flag until the target dies, but words won’t kill the truth

 

And even though I’ll never know it, you will, write the story, and don’t worry about me

 

I’m already free

 

-Jack

 

Once again, saltwater crystals flow down my cheeks. By not like a harsh waterfall, but like little fairy steps, tickling down my sullen flesh.

 

“May your soul be free”

 

 

 

 

This is an extended version of SinisterPotatoes (Jack) original poem Suicide isn't a Thank You. See it here: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/SinisterPotatoe/1972625/

Hope you like it! (especially you sir, SinisterPotatoe (Jack))

Holy recital,

Aaliyah's in the booth,

Sounds of heaven, sing sweet to me,

My dreams fade as reality becomes clear to me,

Im not alive and there is nothing even she can do for me.

So sweet, 

Aaliyah is that you feeling me?

Death feels so good to me.

The time goes down

 

 

..................

 

there is untold joy in each minute...second

and nanosecond, a year fits into a day 

if the day is a bad enough day,

(or a good enough day)

 most people are so conditioned,

they never take the time to think about things like that,

the power of living in each moment,

as if a lifetime

was wrapped up in it,

and a galaxy.

 

because they don't, they can only live their lives

being slaves to their own brainwashed minds.

 

and now that's what sad is, if you ask me,

but then, all of that could change if you rush out tomorrow 

and buy a new house or nice big expensive car.,

you know?

 

 

 

2:47 AM 7/12/2013 ©

many moons ago

I could have

thought this be true,

but love is never lost,

it's just removed 

from our view,

enough is always enough,

when enough has been done,

it just isn't always easy,

and rarely ever fun.

 

when it's seems 

nothing has been gained,

the truth remains in a seed,

It's usually plenty enough,

just not what filled the need.

 

when love's always sweet,

tough love is what's missing,

it's isn't always about,

all the hugging and kissing.

 

let go and let love,

show your true love the way,

sometimes it's the pain that cures,

the heart too shallow and grey.

 

blow it away,

and let go of expectation,

you'll find most times that even love,

needs a vacation!!!! 

 

:-))))

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yt-ybUuZjLE

 

 

 

10:14 PM 6/29/2013  ©

 

.........

The illusions created by the hands of love,

Frequently seeming to fit like a glove,

A gentle reminder for us to take heed,

Love is not an emotion, or a romantic need.

 

Love's more like a guide that puts us in our place,

It's alluring illusions wrap it's difficulties in grace,

It whispers for us not to ever be scared,

But to seek from it, balance, 

And then to be shared.

 

It can be confusing, but will never desert,

And not always about one removing their shirt,

When we start closing doors on it's virtues requested,

Our heart becomes cold, and unable to grasp it.

 

If you cannot accept this and try to control,

You'll get just what you for ask, dreams that cannot unfold,

If you shut out it's reality, refusing to see,

You'll get only illusions, nothing in reality.

 

The more that you shut yourself off from life's pain,

Your return will be illusive, with nothing to gain,

But if you embrace it, and accept in whole,

It will fill up your heart, and shelter your soul.

 

When love sends good feelings, it's meaning to say,

"This is my best for you, if you'd like me to stay,

    there is more to this feeling of heavenly bliss,

    that can only get better, but it's not just with a kiss,

    If your wish is for kissing and hugging and sex,

    You will have to accept that your wish is my hex."

 

Love will be shallow or deep as you ask,

Love can be hateful, or abundant...it too can wear a mask,

If you make love a game, it will show you the door,

It's not only for pleasure, it's so, so much more.

 

 

5:50 PM 6/21/2013

 

©

...the bridge of a soul from what is,
to what is not, and from what is not,
to what might, can, or should, be.

 

it is a turn of events in the schism
that shrouds the evolution of
the universe in it's momentum
to be empowered or to wither in
time and space, it is an immeasurable force,
both minescule, and prodigious,
and incapable of comprehending itself
in it's relation to the infinty
that holds it's ongoing
destiny...or not.

 

it is untold potentiality that
manifests itself through the
guidance of all that is,
and queries that surround
existence...or not,
are the pivotal levers that
hold the breath of the universe
in the interims, gently teetering
upon the fulcrums that
balance the stars and planets.

 

every new question, thought, awareness,
of every human, anywhere upon the earth,
and every spark of emotion or emergence of enlightenment
contributes to expansion or contraction of all that is...
...and all that is not.

 

and so to ask the question
of 'to be, or not to be?'
is really just a waste of time
as we know it...

...an oxymoron, maybe,

and yet, all questions

refer back to it.

 

 

 

4:18 PM 5/4/2013 ©

Love is like a well

As you go deeper

All things go darker

 

When you sink on its end,

You won't know you drowned

You think all are sound

 

Love is like a bottle

You can fill it up

You can break it up

 

You'll never know when it's full

You think all are wonderful

Until you find yourself doomed

 

Love is like a brick

So firm that you can build a house

But strong enough to bring it down

 

This brick can be a tool

To hit one's heart and break it

To beat one's hope and sink it

 

Love is like a candle

Bringing light to your world

But hurts when you get burned

 

Love is like a rose

So magical when it's fresh

But it's awful when it's dead

 

if you think that
you know yourself
then it means you
stopped learning.
why would you want
to do that?

 

 

 

i hear people say
'know thyself'
and it makes me
feel a bit

squeamish,
and uncomfortable.
not because i am
uncomfortable
with myself, but
because the thought
of knowing
everything there is
to know is sort of
a ridiculous one.
no one knows

everything
there is to know,
not even about
themselves. but
when you are dead
i imagine you might
know everything
about yourself
that ever was,

wouldn't you

think?

 

 

 

yeah,
i used to

think that i

knew myself,

too. don't

worry.it goes

away when

you wake up.

 

 

maybe set

the alarm.

 

 

then you can

live a more

full life.

have a good

one, whatever. 

 

 

© 2013