suicideaology

i am the cause
of my miseries
and there is something
indefinable knowing
this simple truth
a sorrow that wells
blood from
an open wound
to slowly drown
the last vestiges
of happiness
from this raisin soul.

i am negativity
in a photo surrealist
piece of avant garde
suicideaology.

spitting curses
in self directed malaise
melancholia personified
dressed in failing flesh
and decorative
mewling cries.

staring into the
heart of a dying star
only to find
it was my own hands
choking out the light
as the abyss stared
in disinterest
wanting nothing at all
to do with me.

it is amazing
just how deep
rock bottom
seems to go
or how treacherous
the climb back up
truly is
clinging to the light
filtered through
the wildflowers
in her eyes.

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