Bit boring and technical, but background images for my tablet
Feel free to use yourself, if you are so screwed up yourself!
A knife, an edge, a wrist, a pledge
Too little, too long, not enough, all alone
One cut, one slash, then again, once more
Blood out, red flows, pain gone, life owed
One word, a note, words fail, breathe gone
A reason, a cause, to continue, too late
So, the sombre event draws to a cruelly close marking of something that has some very volatile emotional shitstorms attached to it, in more politely versed serenades of angelic choirs ‘Fuck… it’s my birthday again… next stop is fuckmas (the depressive’s version of Christmas), oh yay’
I will be visiting in jestful fashion the ceremonial sacrifice of my social ability, and please keep it down; I can hear the drawn out sighs in sensing the overdramatic tones of a pre-birthday depression from all the way over here!
A day off (I hope), an excuse to vegetate in a pool of my own juices, more empty calories, sugar and E-numbers than a chocolate factory
Best till last; PUB MEAL (riotous applause putting a rock concert to shame)
Endless placating and depressing ‘Happy Birthday’ greetings, having to duck the question of ‘How old are you?’ more times in 24hrs than throughout the year and for the final insult… Smiling whilst the act of public humiliation, in the form of a public damnation/announcement, makes you want to energetically project yourself out of the nearest window!
As I am of the cheery disposition I will grandly sing hymns of positive verse, whilst revelling in happy merriment about the joys of the day marking when I blessed this planet. I may even lament you with tales of the time I got married and so comically but embarrassingly nearly tripped over the threshold of my splendid (really a dump!) first home.
And look, two doves chirping in the tree I planted those many years ago….
PS: You’re not tripping on an illegally pleasant high or mixing you’re meds again, I’m just messing with that fractured thing you vaguely refer to as a sense of reality!
I am in fact looking fondly forward to the immortally uttered lines of my favourite noir characters, the piping hot and toasty fresh macaroni cheese going down my throat in a manner to redeem my mood. The ever incessant shadow of mobile communications ditch deep in ‘off’ mode as my phone(s) is switched off in joyous ritualistic flare to the words ‘FUCK YOU’ emblazoned in the very air of my cosy flat.
Which in line with that thinking I will in darkly inspired remembrance collate all the reasons I have made it through to another birthday, any possible reasons I actually wanted to survive till another birthday and with true depressive style toast my demon in the mirror in reflective silence.
Which by the somewhat eschewed standards I live by is really a very lovely way to celebrate my birthday!
(Surprise… I don’t actually like most of you)
(So… not a quiet evening to drown my respective sorrows, bugger)
(Crap… I’ve got to be social)
(There’s a reason you moronic smiling bar steward)
(And to think, I don’t even remember your name)
(Really, a bottle of vodka and a hotel room would have been cheaper)
(This is great; you’ve just made my anxiety reach a new level)
(Yay, I get to remember how I’m 360days older)
(…trying to find all the sharp objects my better nature hid the day before!)
(…which I can’t cut in my lonely hell because I can’t find any knives!!)
(The nurse mixed my meds and the wine is really helping to add to the side-effects)
(If I see them now, I can avoid them at Christmas guilt free)
(I can use them to hang myself later)
(If I strip naked, except for the great sweater and socks, everyone will leave)
(This is cheaper than the gift I got you, I’m officially over my guilt)
(The only thing better would be to beat you round the head with it)
(Now everyone knows my age, thanks for blowing that secret)
(How did you find out my real age, I must now torture and kill you)
(Note to self, book the cliff side cottage now)
(If I go with the mug idea, would they give me a birthday cake in prison?)
So the hour hammer falls to shatter the edge of all I claim to make the corrupted sane. ZZzzZZ+Z. A crack descending into splits down avenues so abandoned the darkness has left. The mark of a hand on a disc to dispel time spells the entering of that o’clock known as one. zzZzZzZz-WakE =ZZZ. Why waking eyes do view so fresh the things tired minds misuse to make pictures whole. Doubling over pain a symptom cast for alien views on all the better minded do disapprove. Shooting straight through cracks whom still descend and split to form a single line. ZZzZzZzzZZzzzz… Hammer only primed by the ill hounded harrier of carrion calm known as warning bells. Yet still in screens light do misfiring neurons cast letters in nonsense to patterns well thought. So sleep a day a night a week a year if only eyes wide open would give rest the name in calls. ZnowZpleaseZnowZresistZZ. Twisting straight where words fell afoul of ghoulish voices deep where still waters carry my soul. Z+BeD. Beds a mess of sheets stained a thousand full of all the sheep who commit off cliffs the fence did warn. Angels weep to see a sight of all the black this mortal view will bless a restful rise of z z and z. Insane a mind so lost on bountiful files in cabinets labelled when the veil of sleep may fall. sleep Zow NNN. Process all I give you a head full of empty lies to prevent the climb to a bedrooms promised behest. All so one who types in riddles known the whence his need for sleep refuses to call time. All so one who now finds black a cost of all the beds angry terms to deals to which I now claim the prize. Zzzzzzzzzzzz. Zzzzzzzzzzz.
To oceans, to the mercy of the winds
To waters, too deep to see the depths
To you, into your eyes I descend
To love, the method by which I willingly drown
An addition from a familiar name in my comment box
“Unless the buoyancy of love saves me
otherwise…I am fish fish food”