An English Writer's Mind

  “I killed him,” the words came out of Jude with what felt to be the most honest statement she’s said in some time. “Who did you kill?” Her therapist Miriam responded with obvious words of concern. Miriam tried to catch Jude's eyes, but her gaze was locked onto the floor.  For a moment, only silence filled the room. It was only ten seconds, but both Jude and Miriam felt that it was time so thick that it needed to be severed with a knife.  “My dad,” she said at last, with a hollow tone. “Under normal circumstances I would have to report any acts of violence, but Jude, your father passed away in an unfortunate plane accident. It is normal for people to bear the guilt of responsibility during their time of grief, but you did not in anyway contribute to–” “Have you ever heard of The Last Clock?” Jude quickly interrupted. The look upon her face was one of distress, as if pleading for someone to finally connect with her. Yet, even with this plea, her focus never left from the spot on th

 For years I thought I was not meant for this earth. Truths be told I yearned to never be birth. But alas I live amongst the billions Wondering why I went one of the lucky millions. I aspired, I dreamt, I accomplished and spent,  My younger years have dwindled they've come and went. Now 40 I wonder if I truly belong With little to offer but my words to a song Time has passed so quickly to dawn, Each waking day, yet another one gone. One day I'll rest an eternal goodbye But this day will wait till I'm ready to die

Several years have come and gone To this, I've been left to fawn over thoughts of what's undone My time has come once more That I should bleed, feed, and pour my words of affliction or rather addiction Drain from me like a festered core An abscess growth that needs to purge Oozing a pain to abhor, rather than something to adore.  

Born to a generation of limited technology Scorned by the realization of growing calamity I'm the first of my kind Living mentally blind A pioneer through my annals of time Hard work is what it took To live like a storybook But this concept's now hollow Taken away by those that don't follow Robbing all of us whole As we keep paying the toll Life quickly becomes static, pragmatic, and dull Siphoned of all including the soul But I'm one of the lucky ones I was not dealt the hardships of war Merely made poor, something I abhor Yet still, I'm one of the lucky ones I was not jailed because of my skin My gender didn't call the beatings to begin My sexuality never viewed as a sin Born a minority with issues within This culture acceptance came from my appearance Non-threatening they say allowed for perseverance No weapon was drawn through my incoherence No worries to grow about a disappearance. I was jailed for my ignorance, Beaten for

A question of concern                                                              Words that spew out from the masses From those that will yearn                                            Never once seeing the thoughts full of caskets Hoping one day that they'll never learn                                             Visions of pain, infliction, and acids Early sight bemoaned to a casket or urn                                Forevermore fearing being buried in ashes Those memories are dear, deserving of more                                           To sit and to fight day after day Not to be remembered as a life of before                                   Contender from birth, an eternal melee The smiles past given; selfless and pure                                The courage and strength allowing the stay Wisdom last spoken, a genuine mentor                             Quivers and shakes from too long in the fray Moments past s

Each new day brings a sun that's rising  My mind isn't compromising   It's comprising of thoughts not confiding in shots    Connecting no dots and idolizing dreadnoughts     Asking me always my thoughts on what a beautiful suicide means.       How do we act, how do we fall,       What's the best way to answer when Death gives us that call        I've seen how I die in most ways, not all         I thank my will my veins aren't drowning in ethanol         Though I can recall years against the wall          hitting a bottle of alcohol, like some repeat protocol           Just tryna end it all. That fate is one I must erase            Once and for all.            Why do I fight? I'm still asking to this day.              Maybe I'm not meant to go out this way.               I've been robbed of death or given a chance               To breathe a good breath before my last dance                 Residing in me I wish were the answers