Thoughts Of The Damned
By Fiza Pathan
I’m tired of thoughts
and about theories that don’t mean anything.
My tears cry out to my empty soul
that is plundered with ideas one after another to obsession.
I’m fed up of the sobbing and fear of the noise –
my body is chilled to the bone and my heart is nailed to the wall.
I’m afraid of the sound and so I scratch my wrist with broken glass,
the storm of thoughts narrows down closer
and I’m a nervous wreck on the ocean of disorder.
Don’t scrutinize my flesh with injection pricks
for I’ve had enough of blood sucked out of my veins.
The thoughts are tightening around my aching throat
which brings forth bile and dark red blood galore.
Stop the confusion, end my tortuous existence
and hang my intestines to the fan.
Stop pressurizing me with too many malignant thoughts
or I shall scream the venom from my lungs.
Let me scream to the silent voices
that tempt me to end my life –
let me howl like a wolf to the yellow moon.
Stop the calamity that I behold and feed me with poison
from the dead remains of the graveyard ghouls –
let me play with their bones and eat their decaying flesh with delight.
Let me be placed in the coffin of the damned
and let my nails cut me as I am lowered
into the tomb of peaceful sleep.
Copyright © 2014 by Fiza Pathan