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Trothless

October 2, 2015

Sean Michael, July 2015

The attrition is steady,
like water running over rocks,
the ebb and flow of a bloody sea,
as I contemplate suicide.
For what good is it:
Inhaling oxygen and exhaling carbon dioxide,
breathing my failures.

This place has rotted my core;
there’s not an ounce of good left in me,
not a drop.
For each day I learn to despise myself over again,
as the darkness plays tricks on my eyes,
and the truth nascents lies.

How could this be?
Once so innocent now ragged and torn,
I’m in tatters.
But there will be no mending I’m afraid,
for many a stitch in this endeavor’s been laid,
the filaments now frayed.
No silver lining in this stained cloth,
Just a soul naked without troth.

 

Posted for  dVerse Poets, Open Link Night #157, October 2, 2015

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From → BLOG, Poetry

9 Comments
  1. Reblogged this on Brighter Poetics and commented:
    Beauty engulfs the darkness
    Moonlight from the sun shines at midnight
    Death begets life through your words…

    Keep writing, Sean.

    A profound piece from Mad Poet Enchained…

    Like

  2. This is purely stunning.

    Like

  3. The greaTest
    prison my
    friend
    is prison
    of mind and
    body out of balance..
    in only pain.. always NOW..
    where Jail is respite
    for at least
    what
    could be..
    something..
    anything..
    i have no idea
    how you feel..
    but do know
    what IS to
    NONfeel
    ZerO
    poINt
    of human
    HeLL.. all I can
    say friend.. is when
    all feeling is gone..
    worse than the worse
    pain known to mankind
    yes.. worse than crucifixion
    that i for one survive named
    atypical trigeminal neuralgia
    from wake to sleep from wake
    to sleep.. for 66 months..
    mine are words
    this.. yoUrs.. then..
    now.. you speak..
    now..
    there is
    zero
    hope..
    just
    pain.. then..
    but miracles
    do happen..
    yes they
    do..
    to the
    darkest
    of humans
    as the
    DeviL
    incarnate
    i for one am
    then..
    an angel
    can be a devil
    and then angel
    again.. and i will
    gladly experience this
    again and again.. in hopes
    of preventing just one person
    of
    going
    there
    again..
    but that’s
    what happens
    when a person
    gains the empathy
    of
    INfiniTy..
    NOW..
    The WiLL to
    Live is the
    greaTest
    SURVIVAL
    gift of ALL..
    the serpent
    AKA
    REPTILIAN
    BRAIN..
    rules ALL
    from
    beginning
    to end my
    friend..
    DeviL
    or not..
    IT IS
    our
    greaTest
    friend.. the
    snake my friend..:)

    Like

  4. You really express the feelings of abject hopelessness so well…maybe too well. These lines caught my attention among many others, “But there will be no mending I’m afraid,
    for many a stitch in this endeavor’s been laid,
    the filaments now frayed.”

    Like

  5. That’s terribly sad to conclude that there will no mending nor undoing what was done in the past ~

    Thanks for sharing your poems with D’verse ~

    Like

  6. So much pain in those frayed filaments…

    Like

  7. “…breathing my failures…” I can taste that line, such a tangible piece — I’ve read it half a dozen times already and keep coming back. Bravo!

    Like

  8. Wow, such depth – and power…

    Like

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