Lonely death
The air is stale, the walls closing in,
I struggle to keep my eyes open, in vain.
I know I am moving, yet I feel so still,
I call out to you but my voice becomes shrill.
You seem so near, yet so far away,
I am dead I can feel,
But only a moment more I can stay.
I know you are careless, but for once look around,
For you I hold on this last breath, or dead I will be found.
I am dying besides you, you are busy on the screen,
Just keep that phone away for once,
I do not want to die ... unheld ... unseen!
© CopyRight Vibha Lohani 2016
worst fear: the elevator
elevator
no control
no choice to make
no stopping
death
if
the
cord
happens
to
snap.
fate left open to chance
every time I press the ominous
illuminating button;
stuck in the middle
moving between
up or down?
life or death?
the purgatory of the modern world.
those few moments
of taut anticipation
hoping that I will be spared
fear setting in as I realize
I have no power
over my survival
stuck in waiting
hopeless moments waning down
it cannot be pleaded against.
at least in the wild,
at least in this world
we call our home
we have options
but on the elevator...
my fate is already
sealed.
snap.
Out of Pills
Those tablets filled with sanity,
The chemicals that make me me,
Through chance, neglect, or thievery,
Are gone. And as for the pharmacy,
They are closed up, or too far away.
And so for day after day after day,
I lose control of what I think and say,
And self-harm becomes the normal way
To deal
With what I feel:
The pain is very real
As real as anything can be
I lose control of my body and me,
Hallucinations are all I see.
And then I stumble to a knife,
Sobbing, wailing, done with life.
And to make it worse, as I die on the floor,
I see the bottles I dropped weeks before.
Too little too late: I'm out of pills.
The Fear of my Heart
Hearing stories of
immeasurable misfortune,
I softly twist this can-opener
to the circle that is your
broken heart.
I have caused this harm
through misperception-
wrong views I forged
and wore so blindly.
So now I do my best to
love with courage;
For I no longer fear death,
only contributing to yours.
Correcting The Evil That Men Do
No one is indestructible, no one,
when you come at me with your attitude
my instinct is to punch you in the throat,
I want you to see your mortality,
like the time when you threw your knife at me
and I caught it, tossing it back to you,
the sound the handle made when it hit you,
the sound your head made when it hit concrete,
the sound of the crowd as it cheered me on,
the sound of your mewling as I drew near,
the sound of my voice as I warned you last,
or the time you surrounded me, your friends
bringing me to my knees and I faced you
unblinkingly, challenging you to fight,
calmly calling you coward, scaring you,
controlling the situation, your friends
calling you to the center of the ring,
bringing you to your knees after one blow,
none of us are indestructible, none,
you just have not learned that lesson—as yet.
My fear?
that's not so easy.
My fear is something
that cannot be put simply into words
it is a being all its own
it has a heartbeat
and long blood-ridden claws
ready to rip apart my sanity
at the touch of a feather
my fear
is darkness
evil incarnate
it has long, gleaming teeth
and a voice that whispers for me
to .
just.
jump.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
My fear is the voice in my head, and the razor in my hand.
The What Ifs?
I am afraid of the unknown.
The what ifs.
They debilitate me.
When I was little my dad would take me outside to see the full moon in the dark.
And he would go "AH! What was that! Over in that thick cluster of bushes! Could it be a werewolf? I think you should go check it out."
I knew he was messing with me. He was always messing with me.
I was certain there was nothing there in the bushes. If anything a squirrel or maybe a turkey. (Although the turkeys are terrifying enough.)
But it was the what if? that caught me. The what if? that made me yell and go back inside.
It's now the what if I fails? What if I'm not doing the right thing?
What happens on each path?
I mentally turn down one and then what if it's the wrong road?
So my head comes back and I end up stuck.
I'm stuck.
What if the werewolves are real?
Vortex/Island
Abandoned in the sea,
Without light nor guidance...
What do I do? Where should I go next?
Tumbling down the wells of despair and chaos,
I linger endlessly in search of freedom and hope.
Sorrow and grief,
In this abandoned city.
Raining for a thousand days, a thousand minutes, a thousand seconds...
I am unsure.
Standing alone in the eternal darkened shroud.
The shrine holds the truth,
The truth is.... I am dying.
© Marcel Jr. Nault, 2016