Ode to Suicide (Revised)

I was a junky

born from the womb of darkness.

Enslaved by my blackened veins

and withered eyes,

I refined in the art

falling to the depths of my demise.

I peered thru my soul’s

wounded eyes:

those slick, slimy,

ghostly hollows that could not see.

The same two windows that held

the scarlet casts of my will.

I wanted out

but found stitches made of coagulated blood

sewn thru

the lost dimension of my heart.

I creped in the shadows

of this insidious lore.

All the while,

my soul

pulsated with the heartbeats

of my most intimate demons:

thoughts tainted, feelings hardened,

a will shattered.

With heroin

I suppressed them




until they screwed

every thought in my head,

leaving me in the cold confines

of my coffin.


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