Regarding Your Upcoming Suicide

Must read: Regarding Your Upcoming Suicide

Daddy - Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.

Daddy, I have had to kill you.
You died before I had time---
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal

And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.

In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My Polack friend

Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.

It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene

An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.

The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.

I have always been sacred of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You----

Not God but a swastika
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.

You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who

Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.

But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look

And a love of the rack and the screw.
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.

If I've killed one man, I've killed two---
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.

There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagers never liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I'm through.

12 October 1962

If I Left You A Voicemail, This Would Be It - Shinji Moon

I almost miss the sound of your voice but know that the rain
outside my window will suffice for tonight.
I’m not drunk yet, but we haven’t spoken in months now
and I wanted to tell you that someone threw a bouquet of roses
in the trash bin on the corner of my street, and I wanted to cry
because, because —
well,
you know exactly why.
And, I guess I’m calling because only you understand
how that would break my heart.
I’m running out of things to say. My gas is running on empty.
I’ve stopped stealing pages out of poetry books, but last week I pocketed a thesaurus
and looked for synonyms for you but could only find rain and more rain
and a thunderstorm that sounded like glass, like crystal, like an orchestra.
I wanted to tell you that I’m not afraid of being moved anymore;
Not afraid of this heart packing up its things and flying transcontinental
with only a wool coat and a pocket with a folded-up address inside.
I’ve saved up enough money to disappear.
I know you never thought the day would come.
Do you remember when we said goodbye and promised that
it was only for then? It’s been years since I last saw you, years
since we last have spoken.
Sometimes, it gets quiet enough that I can hear the cicadas rubbing their thighs
against each other’s.
I’ve forgotten almost everything about you already, except that
your skin was soft, like the belly of a peach, and
how you would laugh,
making fun of me for the way I pronounced almonds
like I was falling in love
with language.

Random quote

One of the pitfalls of childhood is that one doesn't have to understand to feel it. By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep - Shadow of the wind.

What it took to understand - Shinji Moon

“In the passenger seat of your car, I ask you what
color the burnt orange of the leather seats are and you tell me
burnt orange. My cheeks in the rearview mirror are the color
of burning, and when I look down at my hands, they’re so pale
that I forget for a moment that I own flesh over these bones.
The fog is so thick that I could lose you in it again, you say —
and I put my hand on your hand until I mix our fingers up.
There is a shipwreck between your ribs and it took eighteen years
for me to understand how to understand your kind of drowning.
The divorce papers say Christmas and July. That’s all you were given
to touch the cheeks of your small daughters and try to tell them in
smaller and smaller words how absence does not mean
leaving.
The first and last time I saw my parents together was in a
parking lot at McDonalds. They didn’t speak to each other, didn’t
look each other in the eye — only handed me between them
like an insult.
When I got into my father’s car, he handed me a Happy Meal toy
like an apology.
There are people who cannot be held quietly. There are screams
that are never externalized. If I looked at the photo albums of your
past twenty years, all I would find are decibel meter graphs of
phone calls and the intensity of your silence as you sat
smoking cigarettes in the garage.
Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, scientists
have finally proven.
All it does is make you that much more aware of how many
feet it takes to walk a mile.
There is a shipwreck between your ribs. You are a box with
fragile written on it, and so many people have not handled you
with care.
And for the first time, I understand that I will never know
how to apologize for being
one of them.”
— “What It Took To Understand,” Shinji Moon

Lie or Go Live Under a Pretty Rock

The universal truth is that lies are the only thing keeping this world going. If everyone starts telling the truth our pretty little system would break down and go to hell.
This fact is unconsciously beaten down in us from the moment we're born. Whenever an adult teaches us to tell the truth they're secretly sending us brainwaves that scream LIE! LIE! LIE! And so those three letters are moulded into our being. We become professionally good at this little thing called lying.
And that is the truth.

Chemistry

Chemistry. What is chemistry? The merriam-webster dictionary defines it as a science that deals with the composition, structure, and properties of substances and with the transformations that they undergo. But I'm guessing they've got the wrong chemistry.
You see people talking and they say hey that couple's cute they've got great chemistry or oh they don't fit in together there's no chemistry there. But if chemistry is pure mutual attraction then who are we to judge if someone has chemistry or not?
People claim that every human is hard-wired differently. Everyone has an entirely different mind and some things are inborn, they can't be changed. Let's take sexuality for instance, scientists claim that it is something that is chosen for us and we get no say in the matter whatsoever. I believe that is a load of crap!

What if circumstances presented to you are so rigid in their tradition that you get no say in the matter, you are straight and you aren't allowed to even think otherwise for a second. If you fantasize about the same sex you are bound to burn in the everlasting flames of hell. What if the sense of morality; what is right and wrong, has been hammered into you for so long you're afraid to even try to break free of the iron chains of tradition you're caught up in. Where is this inborn sense then?

Chemistry is what you decide it is. You can pull chemistry out of thin air if you really really want to. You can wish chemistry into existence by pure will. The human nature is an amazing thing; it adapts, it changes, it flows. Nothing is inborn, you make yourself, you get to decide.