- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Cut Away At This Existance
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I want to cut away at this existence.
Rewind the time.
Make all that is, mine.
I want to have some control,
Some say in my world.
I can’t talk like I used to,
I can’t Feel like I did yesterday,
I can’t see what I saw in her crying eyes.
I can’t remember what it feels like to
Be the age of 10.
I can’t remember what my life was like
Before the tears and the anger.
I feel like I'm floating between sea and air
Either to sink or to fly into abyss.
I want to cut away at this existence.
I’m losing my freedom,
The older I get.
My bars are my own,
My lonesome prison,
Surrounding me,
Protecting or oppressing me,
Of which I am not sure.
My self incarceration.
Every interaction I have
With person or object,
Feels so false to me.
Is it me being one of my many characters?
Hiding hard behind my curtains,
Playing out this masquerade?
I’m already lost in this existence.
I want to cut away at it.
I surround myself with-
I can’t break away from
My fears, worries, insecurities.
They form like thick metal chains
Around my whole body,
Yet the keys to the locks are turned
In majority by myself.
So why is it that I cannot release myself?
Why do I need a locksmith’s help?
I’m not sure what I need,
What I want.
All I know is I need release.
And if release is in
Debauchery,
Then over indulgence it is.
Let it harm me, let it hurt me,
At the same time let it heal me.
Let it heal me like a smoker’s cigarette,
Like an alcoholic’s vodka.
Let it drown me like a diver’s water,
Like Hitler’s carbon monoxide in my lungs.
I want to cut away at this existence
Till there is nothing left.
Eroding at this part or that,
I do it myself,
And so do others.
I’ve erred in self destruction,
I’ve suffered in the clutching hands of silence.
Loud silence even when so many
Volumes are to be spoken.
In what tones I have not found out yet.
In what words or melodies,
Or harsh piano dissonance,
I do not know.
I want to cut away till there is nothing left.
Eluding destructive natural roads under skin.
Add further markings to my map of life.
This skin of sin.
Marked physically and psychologically.
No part of physicality left unhurt.
I want to cut away at my existence,
Till I have nothing left.
- COMMENTS
takemyhandsover 17 years agoThank you for creating this poem.
Although I could not identify myself with your situations at such a young age of 10, I have been feeling the same madness and helpless of my self-imprisonment. I'd been struggling to put down all of these clashing emotions and yearnings onto paper as mental therapeutic from the course of self-destruction that I am walking toward, but I don't have the talent to make words come alive in a poem.
I would love to have a copy of this poem because reading it seems to slowly release these destructive feelings.
You did a wonderful job with the poem, especially, because you didn't make your poem rhyme in anyway and it's still clearly flow with your emotions.
LeBrozover 17 years agoDark and overpowering;
Would work better by breaking it into strophes
Could better control the flow of emotions;
Here as is, they all seem to run together
Becoming {as I said} overpowering, thereby weakening it.
