Poetry Attempt: A Moment of Panic from a Shared Existence

The following is something I wrote in a moment of panic, like most poetry that I tend to write these days. But this was a panic produced by something perhaps beneficial and something I maybe shouldn't make myself sick with worry over. But my control over my brain and all the thoughts and scenarios that spiral out of it at all times is minimal at best. I tried to make something positive, I tried to write something antithetical to what I usually write. Not about my own destruction and many visions of the end, but instead a possibility of a new beginning. A burgeoning opportunity to find a reason to live. But what came out was, of course, what I always write. An ongoing discussion of new suicidal ideation. A front-row seat to a personal apocalypse. Although in this poem I am not alone.  Maybe the conjoined suicide of two beings close to each other that I uncontrollably spewed out with this poem is about as positive as I'm willing to get at this point. However, I've always viewed shared destruction as something quite beautiful. To look into someone else's eyes and end your life together with them at the most opportune moment is one of the most romantic and beautiful things my mind can conjure up. Make of that what you will. That's it for now. 

 

“And when we fell together

All our flesh was like a veil

That I had to draw aside 

To see the serpent eat his tail.”

- Leonard Cohen 

Continued Undead

Her trembling hand is vibrating with light

Raining down in filaments from her clouded mind

Veins running up to her palm electrified

The pile of pills shines

She clutches tight her void dark eyes

And tries not to submit to her suffering

His flesh hangs off in jagged little strips

The ceiling fan churned slowly

Filtering the stale air with the dust of his blood

Stainless steel drops from twitching fingers

He too buzzes and yearns with intensified electricity 

Conjoined in her dominance over his dying dreams 

The light’s flickering, giving out with remorse 

Words are not enough.

She sinks into her mattress with a chemical glow

He slips off his mattress into a turbulent crimson pool

Helpless again

If only there was a dream city

For their stitched-together minds to escape into

A blossoming unreality pulsating underneath

A feverish bulwark 

Of unobtainable sleep

Words are not enough. 

To successfully reach out

He wants to enter a new dawn

Wrapped up in her gentle slumber

And stay forever in a fostered eternal comfort

She wants to patch up her porcelain self

From the disintegrating floor below

And spend eternity in his dreams

Of cyclopean structures

And floods of undead 

But their brains are on fire

And all the world’s rivers have dried up

He’s terrified to the point of exhaustion

Convinced he’ll lose her in mercury-scented smoke

She’s focused on preventing her collapse

He’s decomposing on a mountaintop

Spewing great bouts of pink fog

Choking the air and holding tight the limits of apocalypse

A manifesting hothouse of planned death 

His limbs twist, his body convulses and heaves

Trapped in a rabbit snare

And laughing the rot out of his gums

Veins enlarge and pop open, sinew and muscle wasting away

Sizzling and shrinking and screaming

In acidic moonlight

She’s on her hands and knees beside his premature corpse

Gravel and discarded viscera

Piercing through her palms

Her tears are cleaving the funerary grounds

Her black hair is sewing up

Broken and bleached notches of his skull

She digs into his chest

Inhaling the source of the fog

At the threshold of his masticated heart

She shapes the moon into pieces

Their cyclopean city tilts and careens towards her head

Her face unfurls in a decadent smile

His ribcage juts out

An inverted basin for the downpour of 

Their horrid shadows

She traces the curvature of his bones

Underneath her grinding teeth

Tracing new flesh for him to fill into

Pale green lights explode

Dirt rises up and howls

Their fingers interlocked as the skin sheers off

Locking empty eyes as they’re devoured by the worms. 

Graveyard wisdom

Outcast isolation

Malnourished existence

All instincts bleed toward self-destruction

An affront to human creation

Shifting through elation and terror

They’re there through it all

Plunging into each other’s sorrows 

A rosebed of wilting misery

Never wanting to be apart

A shared destruction into a beatific, nonsensical union.

She looks at him 

And swallows the pills

He looks at her

And slices his throat. 

Words are not enough.