The impulse to suicide is two-headed--
a face of Death, ugly but certain,
and a face of Rebirth, veiled,
like a mirage reflecting promise past
that may well vanish on arrival,
yet begs possession enough
Two heads yet one creature,
for death's inverse is not life
but that animal with a single head,
And the suicidal do not surrender,
or at least they make of it
a butcher's triumph.
to bare neck to guillotine of chance, and know;
or to pick at the mouth of the abyss
and know neither living nor dying?
"Horrifying? There is no real horror in imaginings; only thrill, escape, hope, salvation even. Reality is the only horror; or rather, the reality that imagination has deserted, and left raw as flayed flesh."
"Hell waits past heaven's door. The pit beyond the glimpse. Where embryos of things angelic grow into things demonic."
"God, give me blues enough to make me want to sing but not so much that I cannot."
"Hope is the destroyer of all regret. There needs be nothing to regret. There is nothing worth regretting. But we are lacking in hope so we regret."
"All bad things pass, thankfully. All good things pass, unfortunately. Life maintains a constant average of mediocrity infused with a lust for the exceptional, sometimes destined to become the new mediocrity but often lost."
"Resignation seems the appropriate response to the impermanence of everything, but makes for poor living. Good living requires a turning away from Mortality, or one just withers away."
That perceived, and with sincerity
burned through crust of leprosy;
all came of your look.
That cast to ether a lifetime's dust
and claimed for me a kingdom lost;
all came of your speech.
That drew a light from my cold eyes
and filled with Will my goblet dry;
all came of your touch.
Past my woe yet before my bliss,
your last slight offering, that parting kiss
I wrap around Eternity.
Strained through yearning, my gratitude
that Solitude remains my wife and you
are the mistress who makes her beautiful.
The Devil is patient, more patient than God, so content
to shadow till he is forgotten, for he needs but that instant
to sling his fistful of Mortality and other of Despair,
to unmend every ministration of God's loving medicine men,
and send his prey whirling toward his great pit of annihilation.