Mark, R.I.P 1991-2007

(Two poems for Mark I recently found. Written of Mark's tragic suicide).

FIVE YEARS. (9/8/08)

You were so young and beautiful
Why'd you have to ruin it all?
You took it.
And it changed.
And you couldn't go back.
Because you took it.
You didn't mean to.
You weren't given a choice.
But you took it from them,
Then took life from yourself.
And you made her pay for your mistakes.
How could you have known?
I know it's not your fault.
But she felt it too!
She took it too!
But she didn't paint her walls a filthy red!
That shade of red did not match the carpets!
You took it.
It didn't mean that much.
You made it feel like everything.
Five fucking years meant a lot!
You made it feel like nothing
I think you ruined your chance at life,
Taking it like a filthy knife,
Taking it inside of you...
Killing everything you knew.
And like blood, it bleeds from you.
It drowns us all, and murders you.
So why not take the fucking knife
And end the life you ruined that night?
You were so young and beautiful,
T'was a shame to see you fall.
Thinking back, how could I have known?
That five years could change so much?
That you could ruin so much?
That it would hurt so much....
She told you it was over, you didn't need to take it again.
You never told her your life was over!
She just had to wait!
Five fucking years!!
She waited for you for five fucking years!
She found you!
She lost you.
You left her!
She tried to follow!
But it wasn't the right shade of red.
Why'd you go and leave her?
Why'd you go and change everything?
Why'd you ruin life for her?
Why'd you take your own?
"Five years has gone so fast".
To which you replied
"My life is going faster".
Because that five years meant nothing?
It was five fucking years!
Five fucking years she waited.
For what?
For this?
It hurts so bad.
You took it.
You took it away.
You took it away from her, from yourself.
What choice did she have?
You'd taken a knife to yourself, and the damage was irrepairable!
You couldn't reverse the scars, the wounds would not close.
Five fucking years.
She waited for you.
She waited for this.
So before you play the blame game.
Take a good look in the mirror.
And tell me....
How could five years not mean a thing?
It means everything to me that it meant nothing to you.

Oh, Fuck. (9/8/08)

Scars are falling off your face,
Memories are unwinding,
Where are you now?
Is this what you call yourself?
Pitiful, pitiful.
Splitting the skin with the razor
and watching the vibrant red explode over and under your thoughts.
And as it streams in a thick red line down, down, down...
Dripping, dripping...
Make it stop, make it stop!
You did this to yourself!
You are all there is to blame!
Accept it, child. Accept it!
You are not wanted!
You are not loved!
Somebody out there is praying for the existance of your grave!
celebrate your deathday, celebrate like them!
Maybe then you will be them!
Oh, the thoughts.
Stop the thoughts!
Bleeding... So bright... So....Well is it!!? Is it really red or is your vision blurred!?
Struggle to breathe... Struggle, splutter, splutter...
Why not take a gun instead?
Better yet, speak to me!
That's right, I'm not there!
I'm not there, where am I instead?
Wallowing in self pity!?
It shouldn't have ended this way.
It should never have started at all!
What did they do!?
What have you done!?
What should I say to help you this time 'round?
Oh, please. Oh, please.
I can't breathe.
You won't breathe.
Splattered brains on white walls.
Red, crusting blood on frail, weak wrists.
Oh, fuck.
What now!?
What the fuck have you done!?
I'm too late, I'm too late!
But I didn't know!
How could I have known!?
Oh, please. Oh, please.
Take me from this scene.
Oh, fuck...Take my life away!
Pick up the gun... Do it... Do it... Did it.
Put it to your head... Do it... Do it...Did it.
Pull the trigger... Do it... Do it...