I see a massacre
of a thousand different versions of myself.
The leaves flutter,
heralding the only living specimen of myself.
I've always been a warrior
but it's a lonely night.
Sometimes i wonder, if i'd have died a thousand times
if self loathe was a lethal crime.
I deserve another chance;
its too soon to give up on myself.
Its time to give a glance
in the mirror that i hid so well.
I jumped in this hell, I'll find a way out.
What i made of me, i wouldn't doubt.
I have issues with the sun
It burns
It burns so much these days
It burns it hurts my face
Yet I am going out now
Right into this traffic jam
Right when the sun is big and bright
Where is dawn?
What a mess I am
There is no such thing as a want in me
I rather tuck myself in my blankets as I wake
Shut the doors
Shut the window
Lock it all
And do nothing
And that's part of the reason I am late
That's why I am going out right into this traffic jam
Out to the doing of stuff
Out into engaging in mundane activities
For the mere chance of maybe sustaining thyself
Plus some maybe surplus
I put the same song on repeat
As I go out right into this traffic jam
I am such a miserable creature
And that's why I walk around with my head down
Self loathe
What bravery is needed to be me everyday
The worst thing is I am not so uncaring
But somehow I embrace the me that I know lacks
It's funny how even I am right in this traffic jam
I wish to just go out
And just go back home
I am the queen of self destruction.
Ritualistic Razor sharp scrutiny of my reflection -
constantly spewing hate at my mid-section,
whilst effortlessly faking the pursuit of perfection.
A crumbled up heart beckons restitution in the midst
of train-wrecked relationships,
ruinous friendships,
and crumbled up to do lists,
in white-knuckled fists.
The essence of happiness remains a mere mirage
for one who is an expert in self-sabotage.
With nothing but empty reminders sprayed out on a dreary collage,
it is exhausting living an ever consuming facade.
Procrastinated plans worship at my feet,
whilst brooding and bellowing as I hit snooze on repeat.
Impatiently my ambitions take a seat,
before wisely declaring undeniable defeat.
Daily my mind’s army assumes a familiar avoidant stance.
Love and hate engage, again, in a repetitive dance,
between an avoidant retreat and a stagnant advance.
It is clear: as long as I sit on the throne of
self-destruction,
for me… for being whole..
there will not be another chance..
Breath in sea’s
Briny silence
Expel
Scathing whispers
Hush tireless tones
Of self loathe
Release
let your breath
mimic
The ocean’s
heart beat of
Aqua symphony
Absorb Hypnotic pulse
Heal
Know you are enough
Yalto poems only contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
16th September 2019
To dismiss any possibility before it even came
In our youthful lives was a an awful shame,
As I looked upon your eyes I saw the light
That I never deserved even with all my might.
I have succumbed to the darkness of self-loathe,
Trapped here forever and further down I go,
You are my worst and greatest of all bane,
You are the barrier from keeping me sane.
Everyday I look upon my room's abyss,
As I remember your black eyes that I'll always miss,
My obsession of you has caught up to me
Rendering me unable to be completely be free.
You said I loved the idea of you,
You said that my love was never true,
But you failed to see yourself in my eyes,
How you lifted the curse of my heart's cold ice.
Our last encounter you never even said a word,
That day in that moment I felt a huge pit in my world,
One last reply was all I ever asked from you,
A sadness you caused me and an infinite rue.
I've been such a twisting winding road.
The road that only leads back to me.
The feeling of self contempt only
thickening with every wasted day gone by.
Struggling through the self loathe,
And it's me I don't answer to.
You don't care if I suffer.
You don't care if I rot.
Only do I care.
And wither with every sip,
Every shot bought.
My soul screams a little louder inside
with every bottle and Shock Top.
I cry for help and not one answers.
I know the answer in me,
It's so sickening
My putrid sense of self worth.
I kill myself for the feeling of joy I so holy deserve.
Can I have it now ?
Will I let me be free?
Will I rid myself of this damage
I've so longed to be?
A shoelace, one that snags and tears when you try to tighten your shoe too tight.
Who would have imagined,
could be a tool used to take my daddy's life.
Alcohol and drugs, a swirl of depression and a mindset of bamboozlement
Leaving what was once a brilliant artistic mind,
now second guessing his sanity.
Put so much faith into a women who made her life hustling,
transparent to all but him.
Would leave him alone, with his drug induced thoughts of self loathe.
While she scampered the streets, and was more enthralled with a "john".
One night was his breaking point, concocting a delusional plan to recapture the harlot's attention.
Was it a cry for help, and attention? Was it an induced hebetude.
Sitting cross legged as indians would, a simple shoelace placed around his neck.
Waiting hours and hours for her to return, to see him in this desperate state.
The effects of the drugs and alcohol had taken its toll, his eyes heavy...
He leans forward, the shoelace does not give way.
I will never know if it was suicide or a drunken stupor!
the albatross of hope
has begun his descent
wings of regret
blocking warm sun
fragile dreamsaplings
doubled over in spindly lament
windswept harvest fields
empty, quiet
stagnant ponds of self-loathe
give no reflection
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