I’m not sure if I’ve ever posted this image here, but I named it Decay after the fact when writing one of my poems with the same name. The original painting looked nothing like this, and I don’t even have it anymore.
There’s nothing left of it except this edited version.
The tighter rope is round my neck
The better I can breathe
Faster the heal and met wellness
The longer I must bleed
Yes, I blinded myself with light
The hopeful and all good
Yes, I tried and gave it time
As they say you always should
But tell me where the mid-point was
From peace to grievous screams
From living through my decisions
To feeling so deceased
Healthy ways did not feel right
And faith became my failure
To fight a desire to die
In pain, so long endured
I just wrote this a few days ago, so it sounds sort of like a journal entry probably, but anyway. It’s about wondering when exactly good feelings and hopes all started to seem like negative things in my eyes. When pain and darkness, and feeling low became something I’d prefer over the brighter parts of life. It may seem strange but I can’t explain it any other way. I just wonder sometimes when exactly everything started falling apart. I guess it gets lost when you’ve got one failure right after the other, disappointments all over the place. The beginning of it no longer even matters.