Category: Deth

At least not suicide

It’s not that complicated
The emotion is real
Complicating it with words
Won’t get you any closer
To the original emotion

If these authors
Of thousand-page volumes
Were honest with themselves
About why they write
In the first place

God, I don’t know what they would do
Maybe they would just kill themselves
So maybe they are
Better off just writing
And maybe someone will read it

But it doesn’t matter
What matters is the writer
Did something for a while
Other than kill themselves

August 08, 2021 at 03:32PM

Posted on by Cole

Pain and death

My pain invites me to grapple with my mortality on a daily basis. For all my life, I have been healthy. More than that, I have been strong and capable. My dad used to tell me, “I was too rough on my body when I was young. Now I’m paying the price for it.” I’m starting to pay the price too. What is life without a strong and capable body? What really is dying is my old way of life. Maybe I’m still a ways away from my ultimate end. But I will die several small deaths before then.

Posted on by Cole

Dying all the time

I am dying all the time already. I am letting it happen now rather than later. I wait for something small to end and then I think about what it will be like when it all ends. Something gets taken away from me and I think about what it will be like when it all gets taken away.

I eat the last cookie in the cookie jar and think of what it will be like to draw my last breath. I lose feeling in the leg that I had crossed over my other leg for too long and think of what it will be like to no longer be in my body. I try to trick myself into believing before I go to bed at night that I won’t wake up in the morning.

I do not know the best way to die. Is it better to pretend that it will never happen and then take the shock all at once when it does? Maybe I’ll die in a sudden accident and I won’t even know. But just in case it happens slow, I feel like I should practice.

Posted on by Cole

Day and night

The day teaches us to live. The night teaches us to die.

I wonder if the nights start to seem longer as you get older. As of now, I can’t tell a difference. The days seems to be about as long as the nights.

Some nights are longer, when I can’t sleep. Or when I sleep deeply and achieve a dream that seems to last a lifetime.

For those farther beyond their youth, I wonder if the nights grow longer. For fear that death grows near. That a night of nothing—no sound and all dark—is not all too different from death itself.

Posted on by Cole

black

A black crow

Perched

On a black power line

With black

Clouds behind

Bodes ill, I fear

As if the day

Were not already

Dark enough

Posted on by Cole

Age as motivation

I see age, and it makes me want to live faster. I see an old man with long white hair in the coffee shop. He walks with a cane and holds onto the counter. It seems like he has trouble seeing too. I wonder what it would be like to lose my own sight. I think of all the things I could no longer do. I must do them now! Quick, before it’s too late. Run! Get up. What are you doing sitting down in a coffee shop? You must use your youthful abilities while you still can.

Posted on by Cole

afraid to die

I’m most afraid to die when I feel most alive. And I feel young and full of energy, like all of life is ahead of me, then I am afraid for it to end. When I am closer to death, sick or feeling old and spent, then I am less afraid. Sometimes I am in pain and the pain of death seems like it would be lesser than what I am experiencing. I feel that I have less to lose. The fall would not be as great from an already low state, whereas when I am up high it would be a long way down.

Posted on by Cole

thank god

i keep thinking

this is it

like the end is near

or the sickness

won’t cure

this time around

making a promise

to god

if only just

a little longer

i look back

and realize

i’ve made many

of these promises

and god

has let me live

all this time

Posted on by Cole

dead bird

seeing a dead bird

on the sidewalk

reminding me

that life-filled things

like this one

once flying

can suddenly

become lifeless

laying here

now dead

very dead

Posted on by Cole

motivated by death

i am motivated most

by the fact

that all at once

it could all be over

and whatever i did

moments before

would be

the last thing

Posted on by Cole

pant leg monster

scary shape seeing

in the dark

groggy

and scared easily

in the dark

early morning

pant legs

on the hanger

and a shadow body

moving toward me

Posted on by Cole

two-way traffic

generally safe

on a two-way

if between the lines

on our side

dependent of course

on the same

coming from

the other side

and nothing

over the middle line

which we can’t control

anyhow

so resorting

to a more relaxed

focus on our lane

and what will destroy us

coming the other way

is out of our hands

Posted on by Cole

freeways

freeways are

too fast for me

flinging forward

hunks of metal

kept from

killing you

just by

painted on

white lines

Posted on by Cole

scared

a light open lunchtime world

outside at high noon

with everything bright

and seeing for distance

other people around

and voices can be heard

and everyone awake

unlike last night

in a dark room

close down under covers

hiding from the abstract

dark monster peeking

through the bathroom door

from the top corner

of the mirror

giving me terrors

in the delusion of having

woken up

in the middle of the night

and being scared as hell

without even knowing

what i’m scared of

but certainly made possible

by it being dark and nighttime

inside a small room

with nobody else around

Posted on by Cole

jump

looking down 13 stories, down to state street in chicago. they installed bars so you can’t jump out. it’s rainy today. the door also only opens about 6 inches. i think i could slide out though. the rain would help clean up the mess. enough people on the sidewalk i’d have to time it so i don’t hit anyone. scary, so close. nothing seeming to matter, far away from the sidewalking and stoplighting that keep me grounded below. up here, not quite skycraping, but high enough to feel between two worlds, not close enough to either, a body smashed on cement bounces a soul.

Posted on by Cole

dead things

walking to lunch today I saw a dead bird on the sidewalk. It seemed gross and unusual to me. Certainly not something I’m used to, seeing dead things. where does everything go to die? I always see all this living all around me, things growing up and sprouting in learning and moving and getting stronger but where are all the things weakening and shriveling and shrinking and becoming less. I know that things die. I know that things living will pass on. It must be because I’m still young and surrounded by young things. As I get closer to dying, as my friends die, as I’m more sensitive to dying myself, then I suppose I will see more death.

Posted on by Cole

fear together

I used to fear dying insignificant, without having achieved anything. i used to feel the weight of this fear like it was important and i was bearing it alone. as i grow and find myself in others, i talk and even laugh about this fear, realizing that it is shared by everyone. while it is still real, it is lighter and less serious, realizing that everyone shares in it.

Posted on by Cole

odds of survivial

you’re always playing the odds, i think at some point you have to release attachment to your survival, plane taking off, you’re playing the odds, but you’re better off just relaxing, if it’s time it’s time, and you’ll return to what you’re part of

 

Posted on by Cole

Time spent for pleasure

K: Do you see value in time spent for pleasure?

C: Yes, I didn’t use to.

K: When did that change?

C: When I realized that I was going to die no matter what, and nothing really matters.

I’m the opposite of you. There are times when I indulged more than I should have. Times when I did things in excess, e.g., spending too much time doing unhealthy things, investing emotionally too deep in someone.

As I get older I try to find balance and be present in doing non-pleasurable things. I don’t really enjoy it but if I’m present I can benefit from it both in the present and in the future, like washing my face—even if I don’t enjoy getting up out of bed in the present, I feel a lot better in the future if i do it.

I think about what I would remember right before I die. I think I’d remember times when I felt connected to something bigger than me, because that’s what I would be about to cross over into.

Posted on by Cole

Where I’m going

I see some spots on my hand. I am getting old, I tell myself. I could die without ever getting where W’ve even trying to go all this time. Where have I been trying to go? Some part of me seems so sure I’m going somewhere, but whenever I ask where, I can’t answer.

Posted on by Cole

Hold on

So subtle was the pain that I barely noticed until my fingers lost their grip. I knew something was wrong but in a fight for my life I had no choice but to grip even harder.

Posted on by Cole

Swollen knuckles

My knuckles swell until I can’t feel my fingertips, the sweat on my brow doesn’t bother me, my collar tightens around my neck, normally I would be uncomfortable, but this is what is required, it being time to push into it, and life asking to go on like this at first politely, later it will force me one way or another, later there won’t be enough blood to swell in my knuckles, my brow won’t bother to sweat, and my scrawny neck will slip from a sneaky collar that needn’t bother breaking it; I’ll be as good as dead then anyway.

Posted on by Cole

Friends with memory

I like spending time with people that remember things. It somehow gives importance to the moments we spend together. For the same reason I like to write and take photos.

As hard as I try, I can’t help but feel that I am losing something when present moments pass. I want my time spent with others to be an investment in their memory bank, even if it has to push out other memories to make room.

I’m selfish about the space I occupy in their mind. I’m even competitive about it in the same way that I want to make space for myself in culture and history. I want to be remembered. I don’t want to die. But I know I will. So I substitute mnemonic remnants of myself for the longevity of my actual physical body, hedging against the possibility that not even my soul lives on.

I’d be happy enough just to live on in others. I’m less attached to maintaining myself in the confines of my own ego. I see more clearly now that everything is part of, and flowing in and out and together with, everything else.

Posted on by Cole

Death by fire

My fear of death takes over and I stop thinking about the future, thinking it improbable. I’d prefer to burn up right now all at once by my own hand and enjoy it, rather than let a subtle icy death sneak up on me.

Posted on by Cole

Plane crash

Sometimes I sleep soundly on a plane ride, when I’m all too comfortable to die. Otherwise I worry about a crash, of course, as all people do. I can’t sleep and I can’t read, so I just sit there and wait for time to move slower than usual, jumping at any turbulence and watching nervously out the windows as the wings flex in the wind.

Posted on by Cole

Death destroyer and birth creator

The physical world chews me up anyway. I want to have some control over my own destruction. Like a child constructing a tower with blocks or a miniature toy cabin with logs, I build myself up partly for the joy of stomping through, smashing and tearing myself down.

I believe in the two sides of morning and night, birth and death. A morning birth is building up and a night death is tearing down. They might seem at odds except for that what breaks up in the night reconstructs itself in the morning. The parts of us that release at death are born into others.

Posted on by Cole

Torn like a sunset

Tell me things, about when they weren’t like this, when you had to dress a dandelion just to hold down the fort for a night’s cabin. Man, I miss those nights, even the ones that have yet to dusk, that might resemble nights passed, in which case I can’t wait. Nights are like dying, which means they are also like living. I am always torn like a sunset. I want it to start but I don’t want it to be over.

Posted on by Cole

Irrational fear of death

My fear of death has almost become irrational. I imagine someone smashing me with a hammer when I’m not looking. I imagine someone coming in through my locked door when I’m sleeping. I imagine everyone has a weapon and everyone that looks at me funny wants to hurt me.

I think it’s irrational. But then I think of people who were killed by surprise. In hindsight wouldn’t it have been rational for these people to worry and watch out ahead of time?

Posted on by Cole

More time

I want more time, what for? When I think of the rest of my life, I wonder what else there is. What would I miss if I didn’t get to live it? Isn’t it all pretty much the same?

If I were able to live for a millennia, I think I would. Why not? Might get some kicks out of it. But if I were able to choose immortality, I don’t know. Part of me wants to die, I think. But when I find newness that gives me life, I fear death.

If I could always find newness, maybe I would choose eternal life. But then what if I changed my mind? I’d be doomed not to die. Even if that were the case, I think I’d find something new and be alright.

Posted on by Cole

Quinn on animals dying

They don’t know. Their instincts are like, don’t die. And then they get eaten and they’re just like, eh. They probably don’t even know. I don’t know. I hope they don’t suffer.

Posted on by Cole

Death night

I run away from death and into the night, not realizing they are the same thing. Drunk and high I forget and just focus on the present. When I get sober again I remember that time is limited and there are things I want to achieve.

Posted on by Cole

I’m scared to die

The sickest thing would be to try and pass the time, in order to avoid the bad, rather than use the time chasing after the good. Worse would be to give it away all at once via suicide. In moments I understand it. When I’m completely satisfied and want nothing. All other times I’m scared as hell to die.

Posted on by Cole

Life without death

I’m not sure how I’d live if I didn’t think I’d die. It’s like a timed race, you’ve got to run fast. Time matters. If the race weren’t timed, I’d go off track and wander around. Maybe I’d meander back and finish eventually. Maybe not though, maybe I’d never finish, if the time really didn’t matter.

Posted on by Cole

Liberation

If it doesn’t matter, there are two sides of that coin. In one sense it’s depressing because there seems to be no goal or purpose. In another sense it’s liberating. If there’s no purpose then we’re free to do whatever. And we know what feels good and what we like. So it’s like we got access to a free amusement park ride. Like a ferris wheel is never going to go anywhere. It just spins on its axis. But it’s at least fun to ride.

Posted on by Cole