Tag Archives: existential despair

Fading Away is Impossible

Posted in Poetry English by

A poem about wanting to disappear—and realizing why we cannot.

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Sometimes I wish I could just fade away,

leaving behind no memory, not even a trace

Sometimes I wish I could remove myself,

from this stupid illusion of life and space

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There are a million colors in the world;

one black less, and it won’t make any difference

There are a billion stars in the dark night sky,

one going dark won’t make any difference

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What am I in this complicated puzzle?

A minute piece of desire, and nothing else

What am I in this mine of diamonds?

A small piece of black coal, and nothing else

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Leaving would be perfect – a final solution,

to the conflict between desire and reality

Leaving would be beautiful – a final touch,

to a trashy abstract painting that I see

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Fading is simple, and leaving no trace is impossible;

removal is easy, and leaving no memory is hard

What to do and what not to do? It’s a dilemma

But I have to play it, it’s my final card

Slaughter of the Brokenhearted

Posted in Poetry English by

This isn’t just dark poetry. It’s a massacre in verse — and the victims are the unhappy who loved too much.

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Go and kill them, kill them slowly or kill them fast;

kill them with your abject disinterest and disregard

Kill them for they forgive you their very own murder;

kill them for their hearts are now too badly scarred

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Go and kill them while they are still awake or asleep;

kill them with your bitter tears or your divine smile

Kill them for they risked thinking of the impossible;

kill them for they for once dared to dream awhile

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Go and kill them without any guilt or even a little doubt;

kill them with your characteristic bland indifference

Kill them, for they already hate themselves too much;

kill them for they have no great desire, no preference

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Go and kill them with your burning, blood thirsty, lust;

kill them with a dark vengeance seething in your heart

Kill them for they themselves beg for this final end;

kill them for self-hatred, too, is sort of an unusual art

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Go and kill them with either your swords or words;

kill them with no grey regret and no guilt whatsoever

Kill them for their cold hearts are no more throbbing;

kill them for they are broken, and are surely dead forever

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Go and kill them, though killing them is no fun at all;

kill them, for they won’t be able to either resist or react

Kill them for they dared to love too much like fools;

kill them for loving only one, was their very final act

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Go, deliver the blow and kill them before it’s too late;

kill them without even a sliver of sympathy and kindness

Kill them, for they want to now sleep and rest forever;

kill them for they are tired of all this hollow sadness

The Miserable End of a Failed Hero

Posted in Poetry English by

A brutal dialogue between a broken mortal and a mocking god.

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Receding deep into yourself, being enfolded in layers,

blanking out the chaos of complicated relationships

Tightly wrapped within a cocoon of your icy, cold self,

the harsh and cruel reality is the one and final eclipse

That is your nirvana, that is your long, torturous bliss,

that’s what’s written by fate, in all its useless scripts

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Your cocoon will hang forever - the dangling shell,

on a grey cracked wall, in the hall of eternal sadness

There it will hang, and you will squirm deep within,

away from the merry crowds, the throbbing madness

That will be your heaven, and that will be your hell,

both equally quiet, under the ever-ruling darkness

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When the bored God visits and knocks at the cocoon,

asking if you are still alive within the silent confines

You will scream from within, a long tormented wail,

‘I did what you asked me to do, I followed all the lines

I crushed my own ego, I buried it deep and still alive,

damning myself to patience, despite all the odd signs’

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And the God will laugh, He will laugh long and hard,

‘you pathetic asshole, you miserably crawling bastard

You tried to fight fate, but you failed to learn from life,

you were no crowned hero, you were merely a dastard

Now burn forever in your heaven, as it is also your hell,

self-torture is the only art you have really mastered’