It Has To Be An Ode To A Hit.

[goody123]

It Has To Be, An Ode To A Hit.

Miserable nothing aching darkness.

Gripping, relentlessly crushing,

hope.

There is none. I'm used to that.

A light, hazy cloud hangs and

Slowly descends.

The remains from my face. Distracting

from the tedious task of answering

the itch.

It must be obeyed, on obeying,

its demands increase,

fever pitch. Oh Lord!

There is no relief.

There 'til death. Alone.

I have come to death. I feel its

Crushing clutch.

Reminding me. I am alone. Nobody

knows me but misery.

My appointment has come.

Past pin-pricks, hits,

habits, peaks, convention,

and my flesh,

demand it.

The ritalised procedure

With anticipation driving

the force not to piss.

I assemble the pieces,

with a practiced distraction.

As time goes on safety,

sterility mean less.

Almost meaningless.

Ignoring my face. Brushing

the strands of hair

away. All parts form

the whole.

Nearing the end of this ritual.

The fluid-filled barrel, its object

lies lightly as a feather now and

I play with it.

I marvel at a life-long fear

So useful, necessary, needed

and valuable -

Without ado, I present to you

The perfectly legal

Occasionally lethal

Marvelously modern

Greedy hope-giving

Hit.

A prick

Gone, instantly and in.

Smoothly engaged, I observe

As I push, my view is less strange.

I have to stare, from over there.

Fascinated.

Filling.

A new perception beginning

in my core, as I push it

gives more.

Until there's none. It's done.

The hardest part to come,

takes a while.

Easing the passage out.

It IS possible. I am invincible.

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

na.org/

originally published on a personal blog of mine, elsewhere.

[Hidden]

It's clever but very sad, at least that's how I find it. I hope you find a way to explain how you are feeling without it.

[goody123 in reply to Hidden]

Unfortunately, since I attempted suicide, aged 14 (clinical depression obviously) - the only way I have felt at all comfortable is by "self-medicating" or, more honestly, substance misuse, over a lot of years, BUT and this is a big big BUT for me - I have not even considered self destruction in years

N.B. there is a link at the end of the poem for narcotics anonymous - na.org

[goody123]

Thanks for sharing your thoughts s.h.Rose - it's quite bad 'pouring it all out' and getting no response whatsoever, as happened when I posted this on my personal blog. As for finding a way to avoid 'using hits', I really don't want sympathy, but I have a small gathering next week - involving two people to assist in my need for advocacy to deal with my GP surgery.

I have not broken the law for quite a few years, I use "Stims" and get annoyed when I have to use the term "legal high" to describe the only way I have available to avoid becoming suicidally depressed.

I have given up though, or given in. I cannot be sectioned on this path which has a very definite terminal ending, as long as I can explain what I am doing in a reasonably rational way. No matter how unreasonably dangerous or irrational my course of action is, that's my understanding of The Mental Health Act.

</b>I am now withholding consent for all medical intervention, except pain or anxiety relief. <\b>The findings of The Ombudsman's Office in my complaint against The NHS, will quite possibly be put before The Scottish Parliament, hopefully preventing anyone else suffering the same neglect, discrimination and malpractice. Each time I have tried to find legal advice, I've felt sickened by all the insensitive (thus) "Get rich quick if you have been injured" type adverts. I'm not interested in getting money out of The NHS, which has spent vast sums keeping me alive during my life.

[goody123]

Another Ode To The Celestine.

"Given Up."

So sick of tracing dragons

The ever-present smell.

To go insane.

To tell.

Aware, as it is plain,

I'm chained to my veins.

Pleading.

A peculiar, personal Hell.

I'm pleading.

And afraid

Now

Right now.

As time marches on I

cannot keep the pace.

Praying my pleading

Now the chips are down.

Every now

And then they come

Predictably to some, not me.

Little voids.

They might be the size of the sun.

It's the same.

Pleading, pleading.

My oldest demon has crept back in.

A tough one, invincible apparently.

After it had been gone, so long.

And there's no sense in pleading.

Futile, like

Asking time to stay a while

It won't

But

I'm pleading.

The chained veins are bleeding.

Here is a new, darkest fear,

after the old void

of needles, now numb.

My pleading is not heard and

it matters to none.

I'm beginning to

Not care.

It seems ironic,

I was someone.

Like many.

Fighting hard against the pain,

It's demanded, chained,

By my veins.

I do not want to suffer then

Worse still, it seems,

After all there is, penultimately, no

need for this plead, it does not stop the bleed

When I cannot be redeemed.

!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!!~!~!~!~!!~!~!~~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~~!

Originally published elsewhere on a personal blog.

[goody123]

"An Urgent Need."

Once again a return round

never-ending twists and turns - Ha Ha,

which must inevitably conclude.

But right now I'm in the mood

It's rude.

Crude. Bad down to my shoes.

Fake happiness, bought with pain.

Happiness the same.

As pipers blow, I would like to know

after all these years,

what He would know. If we could speak,

it has been impossible so long

yet now, for the very first time,

if we could speak. Who knows, what was fear,

the fear has consumed itself.

If we could speak.

If and only if I would not, no.

I know now, it's all I can know I miss Him,

Like He would never believe, if we could speak,

He would laugh, that much I ken.

To think I had the chance for all those years.

Found satisfaction in a struggle, when

Predictably it turned my way,

Physically.

If we could speak, he'd call me a liar!

And laugh, that much I know.

In all this muddle,

if we could seek

and see each other. I would instantly,

Grab an emergency

cuddle!

~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!~!

na.org/

originally published on a personal blog of mine, elsewhere.