Wildfire (Heads or Tails)

I think I’m ready to share this. Felt this way at the train station after school a halfway through the semester.

I want to jump off possibility and into oblivion

Dark miracle obliterating discrimination

Mirage abomination indoctrination

I never wanted any of this, I never choose to be your enemy

I never wanted all those bad memories

But here we are

Genuine 

Fully moving

There is no release

It will go on without me

I can only die standing here

Because to die early I would be a coward

There’s not enough blood in me and it hurts

At what point will I give in?

At what point will I leave this world

Heavy sedative sleeping weeping with the reaper

But I can’t f*****g give up

I can’t die yet

Why don’t you just kill yourself Robbie?

Why can’t you let go?

Why do you f*****g bother?

Suicidal manslaughter

Are you just weak?

Is it pity you seek?

I could just as easily be a happy cadaver capsized in the sunrise

But not today

There’s no point in getting depressed over things I can’t do anything about, I wish I could tell myself

Nothing’s left, only the madness that shattered my mind, unborn, intertwined tangled in the mangled wildfire of dystopian magnum opus dangling hopelessly

I want off this ride, I watch the goliaths glide through the seismic eyes like giant snakes obeying human nature; hate

I want to dive into the tracks of the go train in front of me and leave only my jam spread like a deathless ascension, an Icarus eclipse, an abstract Rorschach, omniscient hieroglyphs lifting demolition grisly glistening into distracted rapture, submissive fruition

A mischievous deviant to paint over the hatred with my broken framework, and graffiti the grieving raven's insanity screaming scenery with my blood substance my ink of isolation my story glorious, my shinigami lobotomy, my Morpheus of poetry

Let me stain my name by the train so you will never forget me

And so I can finally come home

Precious petals fell from adolescence, fading incandescent, a hard truth, a possession, like pebbles on the ground, dead weight in the face of perfection, ecliptic with affection before being crushed into suffering by suicidal mumblings

Emancipated isolation emanates raging escalating creating mayhem separated devastation defecated deviations osculated contained constraining affirmation proclamations radiating fading fabrications grating eradication medicated

 

Condensating hatred, chasing shadowed shapes complacent, I whisper murder mysteries, grisly grey fragments that rape the basement obituaries stagnating ovulating involuntarily christening cistern purgatory abortion in the abyss of my mistress darkness, I am but a shade

 

A frayed page taken away in the maelstrom, I was once a book of bottomless poems and death letters and notes of tied rope and useless nooses suiciding into the eyes of Poseidon wading the basement under the pavement and I did not savour it the flavour of isolation, the favourites of mother nature astronauts astounding pounding looking down on me in my sea of morbid philosophy and atrocities costing me a gospel green from the serene but now nothing but dark, and the white lights that yellow the bellowing organ that mallow vericate and vaccinate the defacto pterodactyl variegated viridian prison of subliminal messages pressing my destiny effectively averting insurgency from curdling black void planetoid moisture voices ate through the faded plates of my mind and left behind this nothing, this darkness, this death, and every breath was hot and warm and wet, accordion swords and steel wheeled track bore scraps for the rats through my loins sirloin cords and rhymes chimed in the dimes silver eyes and death and life flipped on the incision dipping from the coin, and it spun like a lifeline, and I choked on that hope and grasped destiny restlessly, in every rasped relentless essence, it slipped and wriggled free from my fingers like a death bringer, singed my wings, outlined my life blindsided binded figure, rigorous frivolous reasoning, the seasons changed rearranged again, left epileptic in my perception torn from the floor of my form, and I felt unborn

And nobody remembered the dismembering when December came, heads or tails for a dead man's fable, not worth a nickle or a dime

Disturbed impervious to the emerging emergency blurring reality, entombed in the womb of hell’s cocoon room that surrounds sound muses, my music institutionalism, dropping bottomless into smooth ruminations that soothed my solace free society and sewn the strewn sinew of my wounds' violet pyre of wildflowers a wildfire’s scream

 

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[Ghost writer]

I could go on and on and on about this poem but for the sake of worthless time I won't. I'll again point out that I think foul language takes away from poetry. this is a hard subject and I think that you put it quite passionately. I think there was a bit in the middle that was too much, like you could take it out and the poem wouldn't lose value. I also love the part near the end where the poems name sake 'heads or tales' comes in.

[Re-Pete]

trying to reason with depression is a futile exercise. of course one shouldn't given in to it nor entertain it's thoughts - it has a way of sneaking up on you and taking over. in a twisted way it takes more courage not to give in to it than to give in to it. you've related some very dark thoughts ... :)

[Ethan]

Woah! Wise choice of words! I will keep checking for your poems now! They've caught my interest!
Keep it up!

[Onlyme]

It sounds like a mixture of self-expression of woes, worries and upsets. That trouble your mind, heart and soul. And also filled with answers and to why you feel them in the first place. And expressing your upsets outwardly is a great release and understanding of them all. Like you have just done. Bravo.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thanks, that's exactly what it is. I wrote most of this while deep in depression, waiting for a train. I wanted to speak about that feeling of despair, and the fact that giving in to it is the most hopeless, horrible thing you could do to yourself. You must overcome it, rather than fall to it.

[Onlyme]

Exactly, overcome it, learn from it.

[.]

Everyone has their own questions and arguments but never a perfect answer to them. You already know what I think of this poem... So no need to type that.
You're lucky, you can keep writing, you've learned to express yourself, just be proud of your poems.
And Keep writing!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you MC! :)

[Ngawang Tibet]

I really don't understand what you are trying to say. So, could you briefing your poem for me ?

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

It's about suicide, and the feeling of giving up. But also the fact that suicide is permanent, and those who commit suicide lose their one chance to make a difference in the world.

[Ngawang Tibet]

Suicide is not the best solution if someone wants give up upon on their life. Instead of that, the person should challenge the death, and try a new life.