A Carnival Ride Through My Mind
It was starting to show.
My lips were blue from holding the breath of my emotions.
Soon,
I would be a murderer.
I was on the brink of a...
Spontaneous Combustion.
My time was running out.
My breath was already gone.
I began to feel cold
And lifeless...
One by one,
Every transmitter in my brain
Was short circuiting.
I could feel the excruciating pain.
Every flash of emotion
Was the last flash.
The emotions were clusters of needles
Piercing my flesh.
In some sick way,
It felt good.
Who knew dying could be so exhilarating?
Who knew suicide
Could be
A carnival ride?
How could murder be so simple?
How could life be so hard?
Just like that...
I was dead inside.
No longer would I have to hide.
Emotions:
There were none
An empty shell
Nothing to fear
No tears to cry
Nothing to hate
Nothing to love
No more forced smiles
Or unrequited one liners.
No more talking.
Mute.
Only robotic thoughts of what it'd be like to care.
I had nothing to share.
Dead.
My emotions had slowly faded away,
Like the days of my youth.
I chose this.
I was only left with broken memories
Of what a life with feeling was like.
I was haunted by thoughts of others.
I was taunted by their feelings.
What would they think of me?
I was curious.
If they knew...
I am a murderer.
I committed suicide.
And I like it.
But...
It's my secret
My deepest
darkest
most precious
act of self.
I'll never be able to tell.
I am the puzzle,
you are the solver,
The solvent.
The only solvent capable
Of a breakthrough.
But,
I can't seem to find you.
And,
Because I'm dead,
I don't really care to.
My vocabulary has turned
Bitter.
From,
Sweet
To,
BitterSweet
Drop the Sweet
It's Bitter
And Better that way.
Closing in on,
Stale.
The final destination...
Rotten.
Only to be broken down
By the earth
And renewed in form.
No more hope for the best
Only studying
To pass the test.
If there even was one
In death.
It all comes down to the present.
For a view of
Past
or
Future
Is purely based on faith.
Nothing is all I know,
And,
I doubt my ability to even know that.
My inability to feel
Is accompanied
By my habit.
My habit of
Wanting more than I have
And
Needing less than I want.
Paradoxically,
I want nothing,
I have nothing,
I am nothing,
There is nothing.
Infinite nothing
Clutters Spacetime.
Even in my mind,
Still stands time.
And,
Nothing cancels Everything.
No Pause
Fast Forward
or
Rewind.
Once again I've lost control
Deep inside
My spiraling mind.
My lips were blue from holding the breath of my emotions.
Soon,
I would be a murderer.
I was on the brink of a...
Spontaneous Combustion.
My time was running out.
My breath was already gone.
I began to feel cold
And lifeless...
One by one,
Every transmitter in my brain
Was short circuiting.
I could feel the excruciating pain.
Every flash of emotion
Was the last flash.
The emotions were clusters of needles
Piercing my flesh.
In some sick way,
It felt good.
Who knew dying could be so exhilarating?
Who knew suicide
Could be
A carnival ride?
How could murder be so simple?
How could life be so hard?
Just like that...
I was dead inside.
No longer would I have to hide.
Emotions:
There were none
An empty shell
Nothing to fear
No tears to cry
Nothing to hate
Nothing to love
No more forced smiles
Or unrequited one liners.
No more talking.
Mute.
Only robotic thoughts of what it'd be like to care.
I had nothing to share.
Dead.
My emotions had slowly faded away,
Like the days of my youth.
I chose this.
I was only left with broken memories
Of what a life with feeling was like.
I was haunted by thoughts of others.
I was taunted by their feelings.
What would they think of me?
I was curious.
If they knew...
I am a murderer.
I committed suicide.
And I like it.
But...
It's my secret
My deepest
darkest
most precious
act of self.
I'll never be able to tell.
I am the puzzle,
you are the solver,
The solvent.
The only solvent capable
Of a breakthrough.
But,
I can't seem to find you.
And,
Because I'm dead,
I don't really care to.
My vocabulary has turned
Bitter.
From,
Sweet
To,
BitterSweet
Drop the Sweet
It's Bitter
And Better that way.
Closing in on,
Stale.
The final destination...
Rotten.
Only to be broken down
By the earth
And renewed in form.
No more hope for the best
Only studying
To pass the test.
If there even was one
In death.
It all comes down to the present.
For a view of
Past
or
Future
Is purely based on faith.
Nothing is all I know,
And,
I doubt my ability to even know that.
My inability to feel
Is accompanied
By my habit.
My habit of
Wanting more than I have
And
Needing less than I want.
Paradoxically,
I want nothing,
I have nothing,
I am nothing,
There is nothing.
Infinite nothing
Clutters Spacetime.
Even in my mind,
Still stands time.
And,
Nothing cancels Everything.
No Pause
Fast Forward
or
Rewind.
Once again I've lost control
Deep inside
My spiraling mind.
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