I've been in a messed up mood recently. Manic poem within.

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Not sure why I wrote this, but I've been obsessing a lot about suicide recently.


You scream and you yell and crawl out of your shell.
Live in this torment, unspeakable hell.
You keep banging your head and trying to scream.
You keep telling yourself it’s not real: just a dream.

Your world: an illusion, false and a fake.
Just to get out, you want to escape.
Still you look back at all you have done,
You cannot step back: it all is a run.

You look to the sky and you rock around.
You curse at the air and look to the ground.
You look all around. Only hate do you see.
Despair of your life and what still could be.

You want to die.
Die. Die.
You want to die.
You want to die!

But still you can’t. Your arm betrays your will.
A quick slash of the knife will induce the kill.
Killing another or killing yourself,
Both would be fine if you did it over the shelf.

Hurting and heartache, humanity’s pain,
Elements of self that you truly disdain.
You cannot relate. You just cannot feel.
They are for others, and never are real.

Living illusion, reality bent,
Content with themselves, their love, and their rent.
Living with people, never alone,
Talking at work and loving at home.

Twisting their words and obsessing their wrongs,
Twisting it off is where you belong.
Try to back off and trying to dream.
Still you cannot, failed it seems.

Live their illusion, let them in peace.
Life in you hell, it’s all that you need.
Walking around, cutting yourself.
You keep trying to do it, if only for health.

You want to die.
Die. Die.
You want to die.
You want to die!

You grab the knife and start an incision.
You force your arm into humble submission.
Still it resists; you cannot cut far.
You are left with your life and another deep scar.

Your will betrays you, just as your friends.
They were illusions, betrayers at end.
Still you should wonder, if you weren’t alone,
This hell of your mind, would it still be your home?

You grab onto your knife and start trying to scream.
No sound will come out; it’s only a dream.
Awake when you want and live all alone.
Hell is your birthright, your death place, your home.

Here you were born. Here you will stay.
Damn all those liars who said you could pray.
God isn’t a comfort: you are condemned,
Beyond forgiveness, and still at an end.

Walking around and trying to cry,
Try as you might, your eyes remain dry.
Feeling like hell and the tears just won’t come,
You jack off to porn. At least you get some!

You want to die.
Die. Die.
You want to die.
You want to die!

You cast of the evil. You cast off the sin.
The cum of the devil, you just cannot win.
Still should you hate the murder you crave?
It isn’t enough! In your mind it does stay.

Twisting and burning, send it to hell.
Icons of torment, hollow your shell.
Rip open the world, rend with your mind
Destroy it all, and all you can find!

You tear and you rip and kill and you maim!
It’s only a polygon; it’s not quite the same!
It torments your heart; it rips through your mind
Just to kill someone, whomever you find.

You look to the ground and you crush an ant.
Why not a human? No reason you can’t!
But still your arm, it betrays your will.
Try all that you might, it just cannot kill!

You wonder again if life is a dream,
It is a hell, a torment, a scream.
Deeper and deeper in torment you lie,
Forever over, the moment you die.

You want to die.
Die. Die.
You want to die.
You want to die!

But still you can’t, it won’t happen it seems.
The world is a blur of fire and screams.
Unending torments, isolation and rage.
Both are your companions on this empty stage.

You act out for others. If they treat you as one,
You are accepted and it all is done.
A single friend, that’s all that you crave,
To not be alone, to death off you stave.

But all that they are is betrayers all!
Care they will not if you live or fall.
Still they are bitter, their acceptance is false,
Their contempt is subversive, their actions a waltz.

Still they will lie and you don’t belong.
You are evil outsider: eternally wrong.
Accept you they may, false and shallow.
Leave them alone, and die on the gallows.

When away from you they speak of their hate.
They call you a creep, a demon, a snake.
They hate you the more, day by the day,
Until there is nothing to you they will say.

They insult you in public. They walk away,
Whenever to them get close that you may.
Still they are nice: they say nothing to you.
The hate in their minds is righteous and true.

You think of the killing, the vengeance you seek.
To kill one’s own self is empty and bleak.
But to end one’s own life to take another,
Just may give you the redemption you covet.

You sneak up behind them, knife in one hand,
Bringing you both to oblivion land.
You clutch the blade, but the will just won’t come.
Your hand betrays you, the deed left undone.

Still they survive, and then they see you,
Mutter under their breath, and push you eschew.
They walk away and call you a creep,
Alone you are left, empty and weak.

You roll up your sleeve and try cutting your arm,
But your hand forbids you from serious harm.
You curse and you rave and then try to scream,
But the words just won’t come. They only leave!

You want to die.
Die. Die.
You want to die.
You want to die!

Beautiful work. 10/10.
Ive been feeling similarly as well.

That is really heavy.
When did you write it?

Have you read it again to yourself? I read my writings a whole lot of times, over and over.

The standard reply I've been taught would be to advise you to seek someone to talk with in person... a counselor/therapist

But, perhaps you've been down this way before?

I'm curious what brings you back up from feeling so down?

And, I hope this is not inappropriate, my first thought is that you should put this to music or read it at a poetry jam (we have them around here sometimes). You could really reach some folks with writing this bare and intense.

Keep writing... I hope it helps you as much as it does me.

Tough love,

Essentially everything we do as aspies is WRONG. People influence these emotions in you through your own submissive behavior.

These words express convoluted thoughts, be more realistic, more "plastic-personalble" (like miss teen South Carolina) and expect positive change.

Oh, and talk less listen more, it'll take your mind off suicide

I was driving today and started just singing a different version of the lyrics, and it was filled with manic energy, not at all "down" in a perceptual sense. What was posted was written just now.


I've been in counseling for 2 years. Aside from the counselor I had last summer when I visited my parents, none have been much help.
Multiple drug treatments have been attempted (none were successful).

You list New Mexico as location... the more remote portions or the cities?

I actually like the wilderness in New Mexico, grew up in El Paso, Tx myself but lived briefly in Dona Ana county.

I'm kind of nomadic right now. My internship is "ending" in 2 weeks when I go back to Silver City to visit my brother (more like I'm taking a break: they want me to telecommute/return when I'm done and I haven't yet found another job).

Not sure where I'll live or what I'll do after that.

Silver City is fairly isolated.

Is this a plus for you... the isolation?

The last time I was in Silver City was back in '88 or '89 for a fiddle contest thing.
My girlfriend and I drove up in her Dodge Colt hatchback, intending on camping in the woods.
Things happened (weather, campsite), I got frustrated and while sitting in the seat of her car... I punched her windshield and cracked it
Since I wasn't mad at her (I had turned my head and struck the open driver's window just below the eye... hurt like hell, plus it was just the trigger I needed after all the bad crap that had just happened), she didn't kick me out then-and-there.

We got a hotel room and dried off. Went to the fiddle fest the next day and had a good time.

That's my last memory of Silver City

Other than that, my brother and I spent a few different times up in those hills.

The only reason why I want to go to Silver City is because my brother lives there.


As soon as I'm not in such a ****ed mood, I'll try to get out of my isolation. I'm taking small steps at the moment (talking to roommates, going to bipolar support groups). Hopefully I'll be ready to start taking larger ones soon.

Hopefully, after a month or so when I'm done with my thesis paper, I will have found a job up in Seattle. It seemed like a really nice place when I visited it earlier this year, and since it's a large city (I've lived in small towns for practically my entire life), I might actually meet people whom I can relate to up there.