Boneyard Bulbs

March 24, 2012

His world was a barren landscape
of extinguished bulbs.
Every one had once born light
but at the moment each one died,
this is where it had come.
He looked across this glassy graveyard
and felt a deep sadness
that he could only see these empty vessels
and was never allowed a glance at one alight.
Such was his hell,
as this was theirs.

Inspired by this photo (comments unfortunately disabled on original site):

Boneyard Bulbs

x. The Edge

July 22, 2011

Sitting at the edge of emotion,
the tension before it snaps.
Crack
The sweet release of suicide
calling, teasing like a siren
in the stormy seas of my misery.
That moment when the blur clears
and it all makes sense –
like this is the only answer,
like this has been it all along.

Standing at the precipice of eternity.
The seconds before the darkness
disappears
and there is only light, divine.
The soft lullaby of death
entices me into endless slumber,
beckoning me to the painlessness of forever.

Kneeling at the feet of God,
exhausted from praying and waiting;
silence.
This time not asking but telling
choosing my own destiny,
taking my life in my own hands.
No more supplication, pleading
for delivery – no more.

Lying in the corner of the room,
feeling the life crawl out of me –
dreadful
Not a soft and gentle transcendence
but a harsh and unforgiving wrench
from the world of the living.
Not like slipping silently into dreams
but jerking roughly into the cacophony of hell.
Sick to my stomach now,
retching and twitching,
screaming as the darkness closes in.
Finally, the realization that this was not the answer;
the acceptance of my own stupidity;
the knowledge that it is too late;
the guilt.

xxxvii. The Game

February 27, 2011

He saw their love as little more,
Than an experiment.
A game to play,
That had no rules.
And so their story went:

He loved her just enough,
That she let him inside.
And when she did,
He set up camp,
Until the day she died.

The game of course, did not last long,
Though she would not give in.
But with no rules to speak of, he,
Was not a cheat,
And she could never win.

He teased her every way he could,
Told every lie he knew,
To make her think,
This thing was real,
Though not a dot was true.

The more he did to cause her pain,
The harder she would try,
To win his love,
And make him hers,
But he just watched her cry.

He didn’t feel a thing for her,
And when he saw her tears,
He felt no guilt,
No sense of sorrow, just,
Used them to find her fears.

And when he knew just what she feared,
He knew how to proceed;
With every move,
He hurt her more,
Indulged in his own greed.

But she, confused by what she felt,
Let him get closer every day,
She thought she might,
Get through to him,
And teach him not to play.

She thought that he could learn to love,
Of this, she felt so sure.
She thought that she,
Could make him change,
But this, of course, was just what he’d hoped for.

He let her make her futile moves;
He let her dig her hole,
For every time she tried,
She failed,
And every failure helped him take her soul.

When eventually he left,
She was a mere shell.
And yet she loved him still,
And therefore, could not see,
That he’d left her alone in hell.

For him, the game was done;
The final whistle blown;
For her it never stopped –
She never looked for more –
And when she died, his was the only love she’d ever known.

 

 

Inspired by the following lyric from Rilo Kiley’s Silver Lining:

“I never felt so wicked,
As when I willed our love to die”