I'm sorry my darling
That you couldn't enjoy
Any more years.

your aesthetic is pleasing
Vibrant, harsh and cool toned.

I was totally depressed
In a slump on my bed
Listening to music, but
Hurting my neck.
Straining my eyes, yet
Too tired to rest.
Picking skin
Having
Delusions.
Murdering my soul
From within....
Maybe next time
I'll win

(I'm Fine)

Another suicide note.
10:59am fri 20 March 2020.

I write.

I do not like to live life.
I do not like to wake up and start another day
I waste my time on the internet and don’t have any aspirations.
I used to do art and I was enjoying getting good at it.
Then I met a boy and thought my life had to change to just being a girlfriend wasting time and forgetting who I was finally learning who I was.
Because I never had that feeling as a kid
I didn’t like sports, people and mostly everything.
I just like to be lost in my world, away from the dramas at home, and exploring nature, playing games.
Now as an adult I have a son who turns 1 in April.
I’m sad I won’t see his birthday.
But I didn’t have the true intention that I should be a mum and I never knew I would feel this depressed.
Yes I’ve tried to get help but how are you meant to get help for a debilitating mental illness ? You would need the help to come to you but then you would have overcome your stubbornness to actually CALL for help. And by then you would be safe. But this is not the case for me.
I have decided I don’t want help
I have decided I genuinely give up and am too weak.
I care that " " has loving people in his life and is ok,
I care the same for " "

Oh Arnold,
Don't you cry
Let me whisper in your ear
"Arnold....Arnold.."
You stink and your not even
That good in bed
And when was the last time you paid any attention
To how fabulous I look in these rags.

...
Should your poetry be like your art?
How do you know, if it's what you want
When you are fumbling without glasses
Trying to understand or communicate
Something you can't see
Sometimes I think something
But never get to say or write it
Yet I also don't hesitate to
When I've got nothing better to do
Or I'm too depressed to move.
...

I remember walking
In the wet soil
  damp smells surrounding me
     fresh, clean and moisture stricken air

           Distant sounds
Echoing in the vastness
              that stretched out and carried on
   Where cars drove past and disappeared

   
   I want to go out
  And get lost
Again.

There was Beatrice and there was Fay.
And on one fine summer's day
Beatrice said to Fay
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
And Fay, she had her back turned, as she twisted the top half of her body around. Paintbrush in one hand, palette in the other.
"Sure thing," she smiled, and for a moment she and Beatrice locked eyes.
Their souls connected and intertwined

Can take care
like a strong, old tree
I can provide for you
the fresh, ripened fruits
the cool, dark shade
the welcome rest
from your labor.

But you...
Can’t always take care
Of me.

His prey alert yet unaware
A mix of scent and fear
Unwavering stare
The advantage he has is unfair
And as he draws near
Only a slight stifle in the air
Saves the life of the deer.

The radiating circles of thoughts... patterns... songs
Discussions
Trapped in an alert state of chatter
To oneself
Matters do not matter.
I imagine the peaceful oasis...
But it doesn’t silence my mind.
I feel it...
I realise.
But I was never told why.

**** me
And my inhibitions
Trapped me like my child self

*******
And your ignorance
shut me out like a bedroom door.

**** this
And the abuse
I bought to myself like a dysfunctional adult

*******
Because you never helped me find a way out.

She no longer recognised her face -
- shallow and sad rippled in the tides
of broken bottles and glass staring -
- into her longing, deep and sad eyes
falling and no one can hear her cries -
- drowning in a sea of fine wine.

Safety:
Captured me
Trust:
Binded me
Words:
Warped me
Kindness:
Never saved me
Evil:
Stood it's ground.

~jas

Myself
My skin is sweating but I'm forgetting
How tired I was when I first started and now
I'm fighting through the waves of pain
In my throat, my chest,
Each breath I take is like the final limit.

Because
My heart is tired

I'm the strength in your subtlety
A fiery, burst of energy
And childish ideas.

And I needed your quiet composure
A patience, touch
Like no other

I had forgotten you
And you had forgotten me
At some place in time we had given our friendship away
Not to be mistaken by the true affection we did display


Take me back
To those days we first met
When you reminded me of
Someone I'd never stop loving,
And laughing with.

Considering;
I was planted amidst the weeds
where feuds fermented
and accumulated
beneath me.

Despite growing;
amongst stronger and taller trees
where time tormented
and admonished
my deeds.

Even though;
the night sky has fallen upon me
burying me deep
in my own soil.

Graceful still grows within me;

like a dancer beckoning the room;

I am a flower in full bloom.

the way you touched my skin
Like the shape of it was so **** to you
The curves, softness & tasteful imperfections
Tantalising me as you’d gently squeeze, rub
And smooth your hand over my body...
I will remember how we made it seem
Like the love we made was the best there had ever been.

I would leave you
   with the darkness at night
        the black static seeping inwards
                        from the corners of my eyes
                as I picture the stars in the sky
    where hopes and dreams are alive
before they inevitably die.



~jas

No one stays the same
You know what goes up must fall down
Change is a thing you can count on
I feel so much younger now.

I'm not one to provoke an attack or insult
But when you place an alien skin to veil yourself
To conceal the human
Within.

that I find peace,
   a sort of push-it-away
   and give-myself-space
Peace.

I am tired
of trying to compete
in a one mans race

My mother never taught me
how to he happy alone
she taught me that disossociation
  was peace.

this peace would eat me
I am a composting wasteland
the seagulls peck at my brain--
--I never knew such pain
  than doing things
   the wrong way
  I still pay
    everyday.

Is the story true?
that he would swallow animals alive
or is it simply exaggerated
to shock our own eyes.
I believe he was real, but the story
it just doesn't add up...
how on earth did he not throw it all up?

Tarrare still lives amongst us
in smaller doses on YouTube
people eating their way slowly
to new subscribers, and fans.

'Interview with a cannibal,'
thats there by the channel Vice.
And if you look a little closer...
There are more scary beings,
hungry for a morbid delicacy,
I wish I had never seen....

Tarrare truly seems to be
the most volatile and sick individual,
ever documented...
But did he simply eat out of choice?
or was he so ill he couldn't be saved
From his eventual demise.

Whatever the case,
versions of this man, they exist

and the scary part is.
we thought it was just him

Her matted grotesque hair
Stuck together by old spiderwebs
And wet and sticky from the swamp
Her mouth agape with gunk trapped teeth
She untwines her hand and arm from beneath
Revealing a protruding wrist bone as she points
towards you before retreating back to the murky depths

Burning faster than a haltering train
Shattering farther than falling glass
Colliding harder than a bulls force
Screeching louder than a feral cat
Seeping slower than a leaky roof
Speaking softer than a breath of air...
Slowly disappearing...

With the storm, it makes me less anxious and paranoid
About my own life and the uneven road it tends to navigate
because it reminds me of the wild, untameable world we live in
And how the fruit just keeps falling from the trees, it's unbelievable
How many ripened feijoas get squashed and then they are swept away by this storm

I should be out in that storm
With a raincoat, long enough to reach my ankles
Big enough to encompass my body in a cocoon of hopeful dryness
Some rain boots to protect my feet from the puddles and the sloppy slippery and gravely path that awaits me.

I could've saved those green and smooth feijoas
Or at least picked them up once I'd seen them on the ground.
But I chose to walk around them, ignore them, until the funky smell just subsided and they were washed away with the rain.
Next season I might just take them in a basket,
Sell them and buy myself some warm socks
until the storm subsides and I have
Made it through the winter.

Of you
And you’re gone
Tell me
What were you hoping
When you lured me?
Thinking..
Silently
Watching
But you don’t respond.
So,
Now I’m gone...
No remnants
Of what never was.

You are looking through

when
our dreams
                 were within our grasp
and we dreamed
those days
                 would never pass
even if
          they went by too fast
                                        and it seemed,
                                                were never meant to last
                      nothing will ever...
Change our past.

I will remember that.


~jas

blind faith
shrouded me in my own cave.
Please, let me break away
from this maddening state,
for my own sake.
Leave me with my means to create
but save my adventures for another day;
          another universe, soul, time and space.
Just take me to that place,
where I’m unafraid
and I will fade...
Safe.

~jas

I had forgotten how fast paced
And out of sync, I was becoming.
I had led myself to toxic thoughts
And broken sentiments

But I found myself here
After a while of trying to find
or fall into place with the hoards

But,
What I once thought were tall structures
And happy, unpained faces
Were a reflection on the lonely
And blinded people
Amidst me.

I think I have found out
Even if just the slightest bit
Where my shelter is.

I repulse, myself
And want to start over.
Second thoughts,
mistrust.
Issues arising,
from a simple dose
of self-doubt.
And putting words
in one’s mouth.
All in my head;
an endless
merry go round.
Madness struck again,
tears flowing down
and I tell me; myself
for my sake,
“leave me alone”

I need a healthy dose
Of self love and improvement

Cannot change the world
for they are just an elusive illusion
Like the lyrics in a nostalgic song...
They are but a dime in a pool of water
where others' hopes glimmer.

They are but a pinch of salt
Thrown over ones shoulder.
A crossed finger..
A perfume that lingers..
They are simply, words...
words that still cannot describe
How it is even possible that you may sit there,
Be alive, have this thing called "life"
And write.

But you still write

I no longer want you
& your habits -
I only want
...the best bits.

That you usually save
till last
or end up eating
too fast





~jas

your nappies are still decomposing,
You've left a mark on this world.
And you've probably had ***,
So you're also, disgusting.

You get dressed up like anyone's going to notice
Wool blend coat over a simple merino knit.

And then you go home and take a big ****.

Where did
All the fields of flowers go

Taken with it
All the laughter and growth

As she sings
I see the sadness sweeping her face

I watch
Waiting for the wind to dry her tears

shes so young

And I hope

She finishes her song.




~jas

Makes me want to move my head back
and sing like I'm dancing with the notes
its sad melody no longer means
looking back
and beckoning
change.

It's melancholy
is only:
a beautiful pain
I would rather have within me
than be without.

It flows;
like its story is endless
from a childhood book
where the trees talk
in the woods.

Like a waterfall
to a beauty
frightening
ever lasting...

It's wet and it's cold
And the path never ends
Tress stretch across
There is no end
I see a reflection
Of trees and rain
I came back after all this time
Only to be in a life I don't want
Please tell me
We can be one.