Sorrow Sorrow Sorrow

Sorrow is all i encounter
My mind is consumed by the sorrow of being me
I laying alone in the emptiness of my bed
Feeling dejected disconsolate with my bones aching with sorrow

My life has become a ocean of sorrow a endless desert of beleaguerment
I awake day after day with the same wretched sorrow
No escape no abatement in this melancholic state of being
I go home after a day of attending lectures and cry alone in my room

The pain the suffering the untreated psychological wounds
The sorrow the heartbreak the self loathing that makes my skin crawl my emaciated body ache
I cry alone never revealing never exposing my sorrow to another soul
This pungent odour of sadness permeates my entire being

I cant escape I can’t extricate this despair from my mind
Tears wont dry sorrow stays with it stains my once youthful optimistic soul
Night are long and empty as i sit alone in the pitch black of my room feeling forlorn wanting to end the wretched sorrow wanting for somebody to hear my screams of lament
I exist in the darkness unable to see the light unable to broadcast my torturous sorrow that haunts me

The tears dry the pain remains
The sorrow is like a noxious gas slowing poising me
The sorrow combines with the deep abiding revulsion i feel for myself
A toxic cocktail that leaves me paralysed in chronic states of despair

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Tears Of Rage

Mother why have you forsaken me
I was only 13 you left my life forever
Suicide that my fragile heart shattered irrecoverably damaged
I cried tears of rage night after night in the aftermath of your untimely demise

God why have you let this tragedy transpire
Why didn’t you shelter my mother from the tumultuous storms of her emotional torment
Why didn’t you assuage her pain with comfort
Why did you let this happen what benevolent omnipotent being would let a mother kill herself at such a tender age

The rage hasn’t abated its a rage at god at my mother
I feel robbed of the love she would have bestowed on me
Growing up with my struggles without the radiance of her maternal love
My mothers harrowing suicide has scared forever

I keep a shrine to my mum in my bedroom
Once a month i dedicate a night where i compose poetry
Listen to music that evokes memories of my mum and look at a collection of photographs of my mum ravishingly beautiful photogenic face
On these special nights of mournful remembrance in which with a tsunami of tears I reminisce of the fading memories and dream of seeing her face feeling here hug and kiss me for one last time

Everyday I Think About Killing Myself

Mental illness runs in my family my mum suffered from severe depression her entire adult life. My mum dealt with her terminal depression in a english women by never divulging her emotional torture to anybody. She was a stereotypical english women who was emotional repressed who was unable to be candid about her suicidal inclinations. I have inherited these detrimental personality traits from my mum. I have endured since i was 13 deep depression i also suffer from a paralysing social anxiety a negative attribute my deeply introverted father has. In my family we never communicated emotionally even though i had two loving affectionate parents who were demonstrative effusive in showing their love for me.

When i was 13 years old in my formative teenage years a traumatic life altering event befall our family. Me and my accountant father were driving home from my cello lesson and arrived atour suburban residence and discovered the grisly sight of my mums body hanging from the ceiling. My mum had killed herself and left only a succinctly worded suicide note where she elucidated her reasons why she committed suicide. It was a devastating moment that forever altered my perceptive on life on God on myself. After that day i became severely depressed developed long term anxiety issues began to suffer from habitual panic attacks and the genesis of my body dysmorphia occurred after the tragic death of my mum at the tender age of 38. Following her suicide i distanced myself from my father lived in the sanctuary of my room when i was home. We rarely conversed other than banal small talk we never dared to open up the wounds of my mums untimely suicide. Like a prototypical middle class middle England family we repressed our pain.

Its been nearly 10 years since that tumultuous day when my mum killed herself. Since then i have progressed from a neurotic anxiety riddled teenager into a troubled adult with untreated unexpressed psychosis and disorders. The anxiety has exacerbated into a detrimental social phobia. The depression is metastasised into daily sick suicidal fantasises. Like my mum i have refrained from confiding with a friend or seeking the ameliorating help of a professional therapist. I have hidden suppressed my mental illnesses the fear of being vulnerable the terrifying fear of being judged by another person. Hence i put on this veneer of normality hiding my crippling perennial psychological problems. I halve inherited my mums introverted propensities to never cry in public to exist in private inner world of emotional torment.

I muse daily on killing myself in my overactive imagination. Everyday its a new manner of death every conceivable iteration i ponder. Whether its a drug overdose to the harrowing hanging slitting of my wrists and severing a vital artery. I think about jumping from a block flats and letting my emaciated body get crushed on the concrete floor. I ruminate whether or not i will leave a note a poem what i would say in this verbose or succinctly worded suicide creation. On numerous moments when the idea of suicide has seen to me alluring i have composed a variety of poems essays in which i delineate the reasons why I want to end my life prematurely. These are dark desolate moments in my lonely life when the only escape from the immiseration of my pathetic life is to cease existing.

One time when i cut myself in a desperate act of a self harm on my underarm to feel some pain. I decided with my inhibitions loosened from devouring copious amounts of alcohol to call the Salvation Army suicide number. I spoke with a kind softly spoken serene women who dissuaded me from slashing my wrists. This is the only instance i ever openly talked to another soul about my oppressive depression that’s negatively impacted every facet of my life. It wasn’t a genuine suicide attempt it was though a forlorn cry for help in the early hours of a Saturday morning. I cried during and after this laconic phone conversation which lasted a mere 5 minutes. The aftermath of this interaction was a feeling of elation to unburden myself from the shackles of my emotional repression. To finally divulge my darkest secrets to a faceless compassionate stranger left me feeling euphoric even with the tears the snot falling down my nose. With my lacerated arms i had a moment when I acknowledged to another person my illness i was vulnerable with the help of alcohol.

However subsequent after that potential momentous phone conversation i fall back into my negative behavioural pattern of adopting this facade this exterior of normalcy . I reneged from disclosing my depression my anxiety to my small tribe of cohorts. I never sought out the rehabilitative help of a therapist who could improve my depression. The pain would only be unveiled on my online poems my diary entries my blog. None of my friends family work colleagues would ever be cognisant of the severity of my fragile mental state. I continued hiding my anxiety attacks my self harm my suicidal proclivities. Still i would fantasise about ending my life fantasise about the funeral. What would my father say in the eulogy would there be a profusion of tears from the funeral attendees. My perfect method of suicide I have surmised is to die from an overdose of opiate painkillers whilst listening to the soothing melancholic songs of Lana del Rey. Hearing her soothing dulcet melodic tones as I drift off into nothingness would be the perfect way to end my short lamentable life.

Some days the pain the torture the purgatory of life becomes so onerous i just want to die. In my broken mind I’m screaming end the pain end the pain fuck being alive. I cant take it anymore cant endure the loneliness the abject desolation of my forlorn existence. Walking around i utter the silent words to myself freak freak freak die you bitch when i pass strangers who cast their derisive glares at my direction. I’m screaming at myself wanting to be nothing screaming with my self loathing laments to die. These are the worst days when the dark fantasies feel so real when death is plausible to me. Everyday though even on rare days of tranquility I contemplate suicide.

Recurring Nightmares

I have a recurring nightmare that usually occurs once a month
It gives me chills as i awake from this harrowing nightmare
My damaged subconscious in my dreams shows me my repressed fears
This recurring nightmare give me anxiety fills my soul with dread

It starts with me alone in a hall of mirrors
I am starting at my grotesque face and unsightly emaciated flat body
I stare at the mirror it changes as all the mirrors reflect my haunted bloodshot eyes devoid of vitality
Then it focuses on my gnarled crocked teeth showing me awkwardly smile
Then these malevolent supernatural mirrors focus on my body on
In this dream i begin to cry profusely as tears of utter despair flow from my eyes

Then I notice myself slowly becoming naked something is removing my clothing
In the mirror i see a thousand laughing faces iPhone flashing
They laughing at disgust and derision i fall to the floor hold my head in my hands
In this dark dream i suffer a panic attack i close my eyes but cant escape the horror of the mirror i cry and cry begging for it to end
Then i awake breathing heavily with my face submerged in sweat

After this dark nightmare a vision of my twisted psyche
With my self loathing my body dysmorphia my fear of mirrors
I am unable to fall back to sleep
For days after this traumatic dream i suffer another pernicious bout of insomnia with my anxiety laden consciousness

My Escape

After another onerous day of interacting with strangers
After another vexatious day of awkward social intercourse
After all the anxiety all the toxicity that been accumulating inside of me like a volcano
I escape to my safe space a land of immersive video games

Its a virtual universe where I’m free from all the sadness all the stress of life
My anxiety my depression evaporates temporarily as i play for hours in linear single player video games
I can not only escape the world but myself my limited introverted introspective personality and become a alter ego a id
I sit down on the edge of my bed plug in my gaming headphones and begin hours of escapist immersive gaming

My favourite game is the last of us a breathtakingly beautiful and poignant game
A game which elicits me to cry on numerous occasions
I cry on a video game when important characters die so tragically
This game is my escape my 21st century literature

I hide in the enclave of my room forgetting all the troubles of being afflicted with a variety of mental disorders
The pain of existing dissipates as i plug in the video game and lose myself in a seductive virtual landscape
These worlds are my escape that inspire and inflame my imagination
After playing a engrossing linear first player game I’m inspired to create sublime works of literature

The Hunger Inside

I perpetually fantasise about meeting the man of my dreams
A man with dark brown hair with a full head of hair
A man with deep ocean blue eyes that pierce into my soul without evasion or artifice
This man has luscious sensuous lips that electrify me sexually as i kiss his succulent red lips

This is a hunger a insatiable yearning for life that remains unfulfilled
I have never had the fortitude to pursue love
Too socially awkward to be vulnerable with a divine figure of masculine perfection
I dream of falling in love i dream of having drug infused sex where my body and soul is taken too higher plains of consciousness

Its a emptiness that in my short 22 years is unrealised
I want to break the shackles of my social anxiety and overcome my demons my flaws and find the euphoria of love
I want to feast on the altar of love to taste the sumptuous fruits of spiritual love

This man exists somewhere in this vast universe
He exist in my imagination as a ideal
I want to actualise this fantasy
I want to hold his hand to feel his immaculately toned body rub against mine in a divine act of physical intimacy

Get Me Home

Get me home get me home
Is the anxiety mantra I repeat to myself when I’m not at home
When the anxiety the panic is giving me disquiet
I repeat this mantra to assuage my anxiety

Its what i desire to be alone away from the terror of other people
When i perceive the onset of a panic attack I want the serenity of my private kingdom
The fear the sweating the paranoia the sadness the heavy breathing the claustrophobia
I need to get home to be safe away from the harm of the crowd of the cacophony of human interaction

Get me home i plead to a higher power to get me into a place of safety
The fear the terror of my social phobia gets so arduous that i need to be separated to exist in isolation
A simple rudimentary conversation is fraught with danger
I sense the people looking at me i feel the berate me with their cold callous eyes

Get me home the frantic anxious mantra repeats in my fractured mind
I want the warmth the calming ambience of my home
No danger when i lock the door
The mantra reverberates in my mind to alleviate my anxiety it helps its like a hug of assurance from an old friend