Dark Poetry Prose Poetry Slay Me Dark Poetic Prose

Check out these old writings that go as far back as January 1989, when i was only four months into my 14th year and a mere freshman in high school.

They are sadly funny. as much for the undeveloped writing skills they display as they are for the melancholy they were trying to explain.

3-02-92 (senior in high school, 17 years old)

slay me mortal soul
suseptible to pain, guilt,
and other such revenous disease;
cut the life away from this unworthy creature,
not capable of enduring this task,
be through with childish worries and
similarly petty attachments,
no more than a sack of frustrations
and fear can become of one so
profoundly ingested into the jaws
of self-pitiment and human trepidation;
i ask not for help, but the ceasement
of this wretched waste of space,
thought, and time -
free this plane of motion for a greater prospect,
there can be no utility in the continuance
of this agonized parody of life -
i plead only that living has mercy on me
as she proceeds in her victimization
of my weakened entity -
pray, no, if there be a God above
how am i to believe in He,
He who lets such suffering, much much graver
than any i could fathom go on?
He too turns his head to the pain,
like so many dwellers on this planet -
they only see what they wish
and hear not much at all,
but i am afraid i see and hear too
much for my heart to contain very long -
slay me now before the blood hardens in
my throat and suffocation bretrays my
privilege of a dignified depature;
this beast which roves unsure,
unaware of the future or the past,
deserves not to breed nor romp
this busy land fluctuating with vitality,
engendering hope and faith,
those of all i cannot accept -
cannot belong to this society -
no link with these beings can i ever own,
only the bitter knowledge of
my self-frustration with such
cumbersome inadequacies,
that is all i can ever learn to understand,
it is cruel to expect this
emaciated heart to go on beathing,
pumping life where there can be none.