Taken from Robert Crumb’s Plunge Into The Depths […]
Tag:
movement
I run my Cross across my skin;
seams come undone and seep out sin.
Sew it shut with fragile thread
Be still, the movement in my head.
I spin and spin: a roundabout
Balance? I will live without
a sense of where I stand and why,
I’ve tip-toed, crawled, and ran: I tried
I latched on: a lowly parasite
I found my host; feasted on life
I’ve had my fill, so I detach,
detach from life, to death I latch
Just read this article that said they are making a Death Cafe. So I looked this up and it’s when people gather at a cafe to discuss death. Any topic related to it is ok apparently.
Quote from an article, “The pop-up events, which happen in American cities in nearly every state and in nations across six continents, are part of a volunteer-led, grassroots movement to get people from all walks of life to talk candidly about their views and experiences regarding dying.”
Apparently the UK is getting a permenant one.
So has anyone gone to one of these?
Empty. Pure. Pressure. Craving for movement. A. Flight.
Is it possible for this sadness to break my body, every breath i take hurts like theirs something broken in my chest that spreads down to my arms and leg. This neverending tiredness that makes every step painful like the next movement is the one that will make my body crumble.
In your arms I became mercurial writhed like a diamond back in the bleakness of eyes that seemed sulphuric, traveling through me, in me we bathed in incense and the colour of each other danced as though invented for the moment with dark longing breathing eachother in quiet desperation and you were beautiful in your honesty and I multitudes stinging in each movement that we echoed somewhere between lives and I wish I could’ve stayed to burn alive.
I want to kill myself and once I’m in the act of doing so, I freeze and I cant? Why can’t I be one of the people that get hit and runned and shot by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why can’t I own a gun and place the cold metal barrel to the side of my head and with a slight movement…end it all; for once and for all. Do I pity my mom and feel sorry that all her children bring her disappointed and frustration is that it and ending myself make it hit rock bottom? Im tired and […]
She cried, no, she wept all because of the secret she had kept she cut and she bled..knowing there was so much blood and tears to shed. She had love and she had lust…but this one she felt was a must. She had regrets and memories but this one was one I won’t forget..no not me.her life would be taken..with one simple movement from a knife,calling me out for I have committed a sin.
Murderous bastards!
The unholy gleam takes it’s root
Splinting and shivering in every pupil.
Pupil, pupil- dilate as such!
Show me movement in your harsh breeding;
The curses fall from your lips and spatter onto my face.
They are like pennies, new and heavy on my skin.
The skin! Around my eyes it is purpled, like dark fruit,
And tissue-thin; it often hurts me.
Poor weakness! Hard eyeballs cup themselves in my sockets
And weigh me down like a hole in a boat.
I am too meek for this heftiness.
My soul claws and sobs to me like a sleepless baby
And there isn’t anything left.
The sweet sunbeams, the dull peonies
Are as empty as my heart, and they […]
Does anyone find that the more depressed you become, the more constipated you get? Any relation? It seems this way for me. Also, does anyone have any success using over the counter enemas? The worse my depression gets, the less often I have a bowel movement. And since I’ve been basically suicidal lately, I’ve also been backed up. Fiber food/pills/dulcolax don’t help. Any ideas?
She’s sleeping across from me, her consciousness vacant in the deep slumber of winter suspension. I can feel the pulsating music of her breath, fleeting softly in its trembling exhale and the delicate flutter of her inhale. I can see the small flicker of movement beneath the thin pale of her eyelids, almost lost in her catatonic beauty. Her chest rises and quivers with its innocent vulnerability, almost audible in the emptiness of the room. I’m breathing in the naked intimacy existing between her and I as I bathe in her captivating presence. I can feel her phantom dancing around me, her hands twirling, twisting in […]
I know I’m always speaking against organized movements, as they always get infiltrated and hijacked. I’m not so much interested in a political movement though as a sociological one. The idea (even if TPTB twist it, I’m sure they will) is to fight against this Christianized stigma on suicide. Suicide should be a fundamental human right. Nobody should have the right to force other people to live against their will. Seeing as none of us CHOSE to be here, then it only makes sense we should have the right to choose NOT to be here. The stigmatization of suicide being “selfish” largely grew from the […]
Lately I have been very frustedated at everything. Like every little noise or unneccissary movement ticks me off. And I feel like I wanna punch them in the face to make them stop. I’m being a ***** to a lot of people. I’m not trying to on purpose but that’s just the way it comes out I can’t help it. I really do not get why I’m like thIs. Ill fo throught periods of time when I’m fine and then times where I’m supEr frusterated at everything around me. Maybe I’m bipolar???? That would be weird. I don’t know what to really do right now […]