8th Annual Poems About Suicide Month

[Tiger the Lion]

This July is time for the "8th Annual Poems About Suicide Month" at The Pigpen, where we ask you to FIGURATIVELY slice a vein and pour out your depression onto paper (or make it up as that's what writers do).

Use this thread as your cathartic release.

[CRNDLSM]

Claudin-5

10 is a small number
but it's a start.
1.7 million attempts in 2021
for 16 year olds to study
the Blood Brain Barrier.
When kids have recognized
the human body's tendency
to attack itself, and taken the time
outside of gaming, hanging
but rather working, to make life better,
where elevated levels turn
and come off as selfish.

[busker]

Suicide is seen
as a shite thing to do
particularly if you’re 19
but
if you’re wearing fatigues
and sport a military cut
then we’re at ease
because it is the right thing to do.

So don’t kill yourself because you’re unhappy,
because it is a crappy
cause: unsupported mental health issue.
But die for the nation, make proud your pappy,
anything else is a trite thing to do.

[TranquillityBase]

Is suicide is a virgin
we yearn to deflower
who advertises surrender
and promises no pain
or really a whore
whose price is despair
and only guarantees
a hollow nothingness
instead of Edenic relief?
This question keeps me
living in spite of sorrows
I cultivate each day
as the sun beats me down
and night returns
its only crop, another sunrise
and a melancholy harvest.
I dream I can see truth
broadcast from her eyes
but I’ve been tricked
so many times by sadness
it’s hard to know why
I would believe in her
and not the proud endurance
of final desolation.
Not knowing the one
or the other is a death
all its own.  So I turn away
until the endless tomorrow.

[Kynaston Levitt]

Mmm Suicide I love You


I'm always free when you're around.
I can rape, torture and kill,
you've always got my back.
You're the nuclear button that makes it all right.
I can rob all the banks
and shoot up schools,
get drunk and fall down,
kick the shit out my wife
and fuck little girls—
say something dumb
and not go to work.
Paint something and burn it.
Write a novel. Write a poem!
Say "cracker".
Say "Nigger".
Say what I like. 
Get depressed,
get happy.
Do a genocide.
Be sweet
and loving
and kind.
Mmm... suicide, I love you.

[Tiger the Lion]

In Orange Crayon

enough
enough
enough, 
she wrote

what are the rest of you waiting for?

[Wjames]

I am always falling off a cliff
in a recurring dream
that ends before impact,
waking up tired and afraid
the morning is real.

Breakfast is a hardboiled egg
with a grey film
that coats my tongue
and taints the coffee,
steeping my breath
in compost.

I wish I were dead
enters my brain
involuntarily,
a dandelion seed sprouting
in an unmown lawn.

[Semicircle]

Joke


There was always time to stand
time to reach, to call
out.

I couldn't make him, I tried;
poked and prodded him
told him lies
of how he could become something

and all he ever did was lie
face down.


No wonder he died!

[dukealien]

July 5th


The fireworks
the red, the red
so beautiful to watch
alone.

So long to wait
until next year
for more of the same.

But why wait,
why wait?

[dukealien]

Truth Day


Sioux Dog Soldiers, I have read,
used to yell,
“It’s a good day for dying!”

Well, in my case
it’s a good day
to suck on a Glock.

Dad said there would be good times
along with the bad
and went this way when cancer bit

but I can’t remember them;
only the good people
I wasn’t allowed to help
and the bad people
I wasn’t allowed to hurt

and all those who desperately
demanded my help
then lied about it afterward
even about wanting me.

So here goes.
Harder than I thought
but no one ever said
being a cop would be easy.

At least they didn’t lie about that.

[Quixilated]

every day, the list:

1. duty of care. 
how to untether?
no. 
disce pati.
  
2. “what dreams may come…” 
what if what if what if
(easier to have never been;
once on this ride, is there an off?)
  
3. what to do with the husk?
don’t want to leave myself behind.
(feels too much like littering
to leave all this dust
for someone else to find.)

[Mark A Becker]

Hide 'n Seek

Like a kid's game you were playing,
except we all knew where to find you-

at the bottom of a bottle.

Slow and brutal, inflicting as much pain
as possible- exactly the way you wanted it.

Too bad the last one to find you
had to be your daughter.

I don't think you planned it that way,
but you were too far gone to care anymore.