Gestation

Pig (Sow) confined in an abusive gestation crate.
Pig (Sow) confined in an abusive gestation crate.

Look beyond the bars of my six by two world.

See me as a mother, a daughter, a girl.

Pregnant, imprisoned, unable to move;

Terror growing faster than the litter in my womb.

I will carry my young three months, three weeks, and three days;

I’ll never see my children, or life, outside of a cage.

My babies were bred to suffer horrifying fates.

So that heartless people will have unneeded bacon on their plates.

A victim of gluttony; this is my life, my misery, my sorrow.

This vicious industry will impregnate me again tomorrow. 

Unjustified

cow waiting to die
Go vegan, for your health, the environment and the animals.

Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m yours;

Your property, your pleasure, your victim forever. 

Can you justify the actions you take?

The exploitation and murder? The pollution you make?

Birthed for profit, torment, anguish and fear;

My brethren are slaughtered by the billions each year.

Look me in the eyes and tell me why I have this tag in my ear.

 

Breath of Burden

Breath of Burden
Image by: Captured Synchronicity

I wish I was dead; the thought greeted him as reliably as the sun each morning, and like a loving mother tucked him in snugly to bed each night.

The air was heavy, dense. Death wasn’t his desire, it was his escape.

His days consumed by unexplained loneliness; hiding in a crowd of friends.

His nights filled with anxious thoughts and suicidal ideation; waiting for the end.

His lungs felt tired and weary; gasping from their interminable duties.

Undesirable, broken, and  unloved; he knew only he was to blame for these feelings;

Love is never owed, Love is only earned.

The air is thick as he pulls it into his lungs; his chest feels compressed under the burden of a breath.

Another day greets him with misery; yet he smiles through thoughts of death.

He suffocates even as he inhales again; useless efforts, his will diminished.

Unable to find relief, it isn’t air he needs; yet still he breathes.

 

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Misery Stains and Woe

Misery Stains and Woe
Image by: Captured Synchronicity

Ever the failure, consumed by woe;

My logical brain knows, but I can’t let this go.

Rationality says think happy thoughts, and it should be so.

Pleasant musings to drown out unrelenting sorrow.

When I try to find the words to describe my pain

My world falls apart and my misery stains.

Caustic blood of the day burns holes in my veins

As my insecurity flourishes and catastrophe reigns.

 

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Hiding From Silence

Cemetery image
Image by: Captured Synchronicity

The sound of silence; so fleeting and brief;

For some it is a welcome and wanted relief;

A reprise from societal cacophony and grief.

 

Their minds longing for the quiescence from commotion.

Idle time to reconcile; to inventory emotion.

They flourish, they grow; floating upon an existential ocean.

 

The sound of silence; so ephemeral and sweet.

Yet my soul withers with every heartbeat.

This moment of peace obscured by discerning defeat.

 

My mind recoils from the deficit of distractions;

Thoughts paralyzed; crippled by anxious traction.

The void in my being filled with self-doubt and depression.

 

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Perpetual Motion

Perpetual Motion
Image by: Captured Synchronicity

I feel a constant pressure; my existence in a vice.

My shoulders burdened by the burgeoning need to matter.

I ache for a distraction to ignore the pain of having no purpose.

 

Growing weary of the questions;

Why am I trapped here, angry, anxious and hopeless?

Why do I feel this obligation to the world; to myself?

 

I’m never happy. It’s so hard to say; to realize and admit.

When friends ask how I am, I lie every time; nothing is fine.

Blocked from my happiness, I cannot feel joy; my consciousness is a pit.

 

I yearn to be at peace;

Free from self-doubt and insecurities; a moment without dread.

To painlessly exist and understand my path.

 

No time to spend on my desires.

By the time I recover from the misery of my current state of being,

It’s time to resume progressively slipping into a miserable pit of depression.

 

Each day it becomes harder to get out of bed;   

Misery is the thought of existing another day.

No alarm sounds before I sense the pain ahead.

 

The first thought that passes through my head each day, is regret that I’ve awakened again.

She says to write, that things are looking up, but I don’t have that faith.

Can I handle it when my words collect dust in the bargain bin?

 

I see her discover her purpose, one I’ve longed decades to find;

Happy and fulfilled, enthusiastic with a zest for life.

I am happy for her, and so proud; Although, I am sure she will leave me behind.

 

I am broken, incomplete; a part of me is missing.

She found her missing parts in a camera; in her art;

I fear I’ll never find my passion; my thing.

 

I can’t hold her back now that she’s complete;

An empty shell is what I’ve become; I don’t know how to fake being a real boy anymore.

My world is too heavy for to hold and will leave me miserable and alone.

 

For information about suicide prevention please click here.

First World Problems

First World Problems
Image by: Captured Synchronicity

Tick
The dusk of each forsaken day births the dawn of a disappointing tomorrow.
Tock.
My heaving chest rises then falls, heavy and strained; each respiration a chore for my weary soul.
Tick
Broken and defeated, yet optimistic for her; I muster the courage to try again. I’ll always try again.
Tock.
Feigning the vigor to succeed, I discover only problems with no solutions; cages with no doors.
Tick.
Dispirited and tormented, trapped within a cyclone of my own failure and self-defeat.
Tock.
Hope destroyed by fathers sins; Forever enslaved within a game I cannot win.
Tick
Fulfill the routine drudgery; eat to stay alive. Try to ignore the nagging pain as my will slowly dies.
Tock.
Anxiety builds as my moments succumb to time; Consequently, life falls by the second, like rain wasted in the ditch.
Tick
Churning, burning, my stomach wrenched in woe; starving for a freedom my mind will never know.
Tock.
No longer can I gaze into the eyes of my wife, afraid she’ll finally see the depth of the agony inside.
Tick
Hungry, beaten, exploited and raped; my malady is menial to the abused; yet still I hurt
Tock.
Foolish and selfish, I bring her down with my cries; wailing like a child and I don’t know why.
Tick
I don’t want to die hollowed from the pain. I’ll always try again.
Tock.

 

For information about suicide prevention please click here.