I heard you, I hate you

Laying in a cold room on a couch to small for me, the image of my blood gushing out of my wrists onto the floor and forming a blood lake came to me.

Trash everywhere
At the top of the heap, only me
King of the trash
Discarded clothes, discarded past
Present and future just waiting
Waiting to rot in the compost heap

Solitary confinement
Of my design
No one visits this cell
No one knows it exists
Not abandoned because it never was

Bash my face
Against the cold walls
Of this morose bunker
Hoping and praying
For a jagged chunk
Of tooth or bone
American ingenuity, breeding suicide

Tear the skin
Open the vein
Pouring out blood
Pouring out me

Crimson bath
Over my legs
Onto the floor
Come take a swim
In the great lakes
Of my wasted life
 

Reviews

[Jennifer Marie Theresa ..]

A very strongly written poem about a fateful mistake that cost a person their life. It gave me chills and a feeling of regret for the lost soul. Very well written