Wednesday, April 25, 2012

The Suicide Attempt of my Identity


A blank canvas given to me
we work together to write this note
At a place where all words seem
some part of the uncontrollable

The painting here is almost monochromatic.
There is not enough of me,
I cannot fight anymore
I see myself in you

The oil, churning within,
Trapped within a skull, like a sonic locust
My eyes are numb like sleep
Though in the depths of fever
it is time

Find it. You have your time.
Don't you forget, I am carrying you
like the last inch of candle’s wick
A passion burned too bright, too quick
Powerless, unprotected

They are all gone
I just want to live.

2 comments:

carmenariela said...

haha this is awesome

Justina said...

ah man, jason so creative and totally awesome! thank you for the poem! it brings a little bit of a tear to my eye because i miss this so much!! (especially in the middle of the night for the most stressful times … one of the most stressful times for me, anyway).