“Who?” Watercolor, 6×6 [OC]
Tag: suicide
Scare
Why does it scare you when I say
I have obsessive suicidal thoughts?
It’s white noise to me now.
The Hudson (for Anna)
An invisible solid interrupted my fall, breaking me.
My painful gasp leaked out, a cartoon bubble.
Icy water enveloped me, my final cocoon.
I Wore White
I wore white.
Impressive interview.
As usual.
I make them laugh and laugh.
My patient told me, “you are great at what you do.”
A patient.
Drugs and rope, his ticket in.
Two hundred and fifty pounds lost to a shower rod.
The nurses laugh.
Can’t cope.
Weak and stupid,
Can’t kill himself right.
Not his first time
In hospital restraints.
I didn’t say,
I ate my pills for breakfast and
hid my demon today.
I didn’t say,
I’m glad my dad failed,
in the garage.
I didn’t say,
He’s too smart to
Kill himself right.
Code blue came to us,
Exsanguinating
Most experienced,
I led the team.
I didn’t say,
I once had a ticket.
I wore white.
-LRose
Today
At bottom of the rocky gorge a river beautiful moved with destructive force. I stood at the top, my gaze drawn like rocks sinking, my toes kissing the rim. The water was grey, not from filth, but from clay. I closed my eyes and the wind swayed my body like a sapling tree. I played a game in my head: “if the wind pushes me towards the river, I’ll jump.” The wind pushed West, parellel to the ravine. Today was not the day.
-LRose
A ghost lived once
A ghost lived once
inside this house
They say he murdered his kids
And then his spouse.
He fell in love
With someone else
He told his wife
Their marriage was false.
She went into the bathroom
And closed the door
She took the kids with her
She loved no more.
He went to find them,
The doorknob was hot.
He flinched and jumped back
As smoke billowed out.
He pounded on the door
Then kicked it down,
Looking for their bodies
On the tiled ground.
His face sizzled and burned
Before the fire went out
Then he was alone
He cried and shout.
He went to the hospital
For his burned face
They looked at him and whispered
His deformity out of place.
He suffered and grieved
In the old house he cried.
They made up a rumor
after he died:
A ghost lived once
inside this house .
He murdered his kids
And then his spouse.
-LRose
My bones
My rib cage a jail,
That keeps my heart in
Disguising my soul,
And my sin.
My bones are small,
It’s all I have
To protect my insides
From good and bad.
My head a shell
It keeps my brain safe,
the problem is
I can’t escape.
-LRose
Pointing fingers
The diversion created by pointing fingers: dissect them not me!
And I still have the balls to wonder why no one knows my turmoil, why I feel so alone. I should turn that finger around and use it to rip myself open, so they can see my insides.
I imagine they would be made of rape, depression, drugs, and a messed up childhood, but I would be surprised to find out I am made of guts and love. Maybe the pills would spill from my blood, and I’d try to conceal them as they slip through my fingers to the earth.
It’s like suicide but instead of hiding behind death, I’d have to face them alive. I couldn’t leave a note in blood, or bits of me on the wall, or let them cry at the person they thought I was. Would I cry when my insides reveal I am just like them?
If
If I killed myself today,What would people say?
Would they mourn the person they thought I was?
But she was so happy! So outgoing! So sweet!
But she did have a dark side…
I am the dark side, I don’t let you meet.
If they found me ruddy faced, coarse rope around my neck, would they say:
Well I don’t want to remember her this way. I want to remember her like she was yesterday! Her smile, her act.
Would they say: but her life was perfect?
Would they pretend I didn’t die of suicide? Would they use me for pity?
I wish they would say: she suffered, she was in pain. Her death was not in vain.
She is now dead as nothing else. More dead than air.
I wish they would they say: why didn’t we care more, love more, talk more, be more?
Because we aren’t more. This is what we are.
After I’ve died, don’t tell me what you would’ve done.
Death with dignity
The feeling of a cold gun
in my mouth.
Hope I don’t stop,
don’t cock
it the wrong way.
Miss my brain,
extend the eternal pain
by shooting my face off instead.
But once the it can be seen, once my nose is shot off and I’m blind without eyes and a jaw. that’s when they say, oh poor thing, she must be in such pain.
And then I want to stop care, they say ok, you should, you should die with dignity so you do not suffer. and I laugh without a mouth and no crinkle to my eye because my death is anything but dignified.
-LRose
Invisible Attacker Writing Challenge
Various Authors
In the shadows, he stalks his pray
little did the samurai know, this was his last day
this feud has been going on for for years and he traveled for a week.
finally the urge for revenge was at it’s peak
running at fool speed without making a sound
he locked on his target, leaped and spun round and round
in mid air he aimed his sword right in the middle like Thuringia
off with the samurai’s head, he just got fucked up by a ninja
Chatting online – you’re supposed to be kind.
I really thought we were friends…
But invisible attackers on the other end of the line
Make fun of my typing instead.
A ravenous void
It’s infinite nothingness
Encapsulating
Ceramic tiles line the walls around me,
Tepid water fills my nostrils.
I choke,
The air escapes me.
They breathe it in,
Like they breathe my strength, as I lose it.
Breathe,
But the water fills my lungs.
I splutter,
Like I choke on the air that surrounds me.
“Make your choice carefully”
“I have”
Thrust back into the deep,
Like a tunnel engulfing me.
Gasping,
Like my soul is trying to escape my body.
Trembling,
Like a knife is slicing through me.
Death,
It would be a blessing.
Brian sat alone in his apartment. He didn’t mind his lack of social interaction, in fact he fooled himself into thinking he hated it – that was most nights. Tonight is different. He felt something he hasn’t felt in a long time, he felt lonely. He wanted to talk to someone, anyone, anyone besides his cat. As he sat he pondered the past few months, when he didn’t always avoid the real world. Hell, he enjoyed people. But not since his mom’s death has he left his apartment, let alone have the ability to go see his friends who he had bailed on enough they stopped texting. But today was different, today he wanted to be with someone.
Just as he let this thought into his mind, almost as if it was meant to happen, his phone shook and glew, he hadn’t seen it act in such way in weeks. It felt foreign, his heart dropped as he looked, it was a number that he didn’t recognize. He sighed and let it go to voicemail. Shortly after the phone shook again; same number, same tune,but it felt more aggressive. He was surprised, doesnt this person know he hadnt answered calls in a long time? Before he knew it he was on the phone. “Hello?” He said wearily. A low murmur came from the other side, followed by a soft yet grizzled voice of a man ” knock knock Brian” the voice said with a giggle. “Who’s there?” Brian responded regretting following the voices direction “boo” said the voice. ” Boo who” Brian shakily answered, “don’t cry Brian I haven’t even started, see you soon.” The voice chortled.
Brian shaking reached for his green bottle that was filled to the brim with Xanax. He delicately pulls out two bars and pops them in his mouth and washes it down with his flat and warm shit beer. He lays down wishing to forget his weird call, promising to not ever answer to phone again. He closed his eyes hoping to drift off to sleep. After tossing and turnin, it wouldn’t last. Shortly after he was woken by a sudden shooting pain and the warm trickle of blood pouring from his skull. As he woke, his eyes returned to focus, but he could only make out the grin on the figure standing above him. “Knock knock Brian,” the figure said with a gleeful smile. As Brian witnessed the bloody hammer that had finally come into focus come towards him. Brian felt something he hadnt felt since his beloved mother would comfort him as a child. Brian felt peace.
Closing my eyes, I fall
far from reality.
Slipping between parallel universes,
But you can still see my body.
Words come out of my mouth like
Charlie Brown’s teacher.
Silent instructions move
My plastic body.
The act of person reaches
An unobtainable threshold.
Severe concentration deficit,
Food burning on stove.
Only a matter of time.
Viscous water resistance,
My head disappears beneath the Hudson
Held by the invisible attacker
I say to me, stop!
But my body has become
The marionette of my dark soul.
-LRose
Invisible Attack
Closing my eyes, I fall
far from reality.
Slipping between parallel universes,
But you can still see my body.
Words come out of my mouth like
Charlie Brown’s teacher.
Silent instructions move
My plastic body.
The act of person reaches
An unobtainable threshold.
Severe concentration deficit,
Food burning on stove.
Only a matter of time.
Viscous water resistance,
My head disappears beneath the Hudson
Held by the invisible attacker
I say to me, stop!
But my body has become
The marionette of my dark soul.
-LRose
The Trees Tree
-LRose
The Threshold
Where do we break? Between composure and infantile wailing? Euphoria and irritability? Comfort and pain? The pain that pushes you to the point where suicide makes sense. The threshold is lower in us. They try to raise it with pills and therapy and sunshine, so it can’t easily be breached, but it dangles over me, just out of my reach.
I jump for it over and over, wishing I had longer arms or legs. Sometimes I’m weighted down and can barely get off the ground. And if I’m lucky it soars out of sight and I am happy to not have it rest so close to my head.
That line, that threshold, the difference in us is that we see it. Discuss the risk and benefit, what society won’t admit. This makes us real. We do not pretend it is out of reach, that breakdown, that violence, that final breath. We know it is closer to us, our eyes are open.
Admitting it’s existence pushes the breaking point a bit further away. But it is still near. There is comfort where there is pain. It’s an angel and devil, not so far away. That lower threshold, some of us reach it anyway.
americandenial 