Traumatic Progression To Nothing

For every gift I was given,

To find out – like Santa – the giver was fiction.

For every promise carefully packaged

To arrive broken; faster than UPS Express could deliver.

For all the times my rusty window was forced open

Stripping even the hollowness out of the hollow.

There’s nothing now for anyone and so it shall stay-

Useless, barren and bare.

Oh wait- there’s only one thing that lingers

The stench of morbid despair.

-Ramona Arena 2016.

 

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The Vision

There’s a knife

I see it everyday,

Sometimes in my dreams too.

 

It’s a deceivingly sharp knife

Whose icy tip

Touches my skin:

Outlining my left shoulder

As I lay face down on tar,

With the gentlest touch

Splitting my flesh wide open.

Such a deep and astonishingly neat cut

Don’t know who should get more praise

The one that crafted the blade so fine

Or the one that used it with such delicate tact.
I’m flipped over now,

Only to find both my wrists

Have also been slit –

There’s liquid red

All over the hands that held you.

I can never see his face

I do know it is a ‘he’ that does the deed.

His last master slice

Is along my belly,

Where you’d sometimes lay, and plant soft kisses.

And with that he leaves.

Pacing off, into a blur

Leaving me with calm echos of his footsteps-

Toc, Toc, Toc, Toc…

Killing me was music,

To your ears,

To his wallet,

To my soul.

God bless the music,

Where would we be without it?

Unable to move,

There’s no one around

I just lay there

With a smile on my lips,

You know the ones that’d kiss your face a hundred times a day.

I lay with thoughts,

With relief.

Finally.

The pain of the end

Is nothing compared to the pain of being alive.

The red leads the way,

I flow with ease this time,

Into the familiar darkness,

That life forced me to call home.

– Ramona Arena 2016.

Para ti, Ramonita..

Mucho ruido y pocas nueces.

Hoy, el 14 Diciembre. Un años.

Donde es el dios?

Donde es nuestra vida?

Si, no hay rosa sin espinas.

Pero yo veo solo muerte para mi.

Todos es negro.

Perdón?

Paciencia – ja ja..

Amor – ja ja ja ja ja..

Disfruta nada, listilla Ramonita.

El corazón es ciego y estúpido.

Y para siempre es suyo.

– Ramona Arena. 14 December 2015.

Depression

I am depressed.

Life has failed me yet again.

Each time, I dusted the dirt

It threw at my face;

Stood up on my feet

Pushed myself

Back into the race.

But this time life wins.

I am firmly convinced

There is no God.

No mercy.

No respite.

 

Only one truth exists:

Good things don’t happen to good people,

They’re just given a mere glimpse of it.

Life dangles the sweetest carrot,

Finally offers a most promising bite

Only to take it away,

Smiling proudly.

I crumble

Into this wreck,

A morose being walking

With the stench of death.

No energy left to fight,

Only motivation to cry.

How I abhor myself.

I hate my life.

I cringe at my existence.

I’m dispicable and vile.

Congratulations life.

I hope you’re celebrating nice.

 

 

-Ramona Arena.

12 December 2015.

Answers that I seek and want,
Do their best to evade me.
Another sunrise shows up,
To taunt, humiliate me.

My very existence,
Is that of a hollow drum.
Broken strings,
Warp a Gibsons perfect strum.

Beguiled,
Forlorn,
Pages from the midst of my lifes’ story,
Gone.

Must we always finish each chapter,
Or is it trivial paltriness?
Market shares wouldn’t feel the plunge,
Of a carefully crafted mess.

Unable to connect,
Vacuous as death,
Desperately floundering,
Life, I’m bowing out of your test.

-©RamonaArena2015

Lost. (EXPLICIT)

She howls from within
She be screaming stop.
The tremors a magnitude 9.

Not a soul can feel it
She bursts lava
They point & shoot, it’s beauty defined.

Then they give lectures
And Ted Talks for
Inspiration. For
Motivation. For
Uplifting. These
Experts. These
‘I’m accomplished’ people. These
‘Know it all’ people. These
‘Achievers of success’ people. These
‘I’m up here talking; you’re down there listening’ people. These
I got 5 million likes people. These
I got 20 million hits people. These
Reflections of Gods.

Alien, alien
Dropped into this world.
Was this planet, the gutter of the universe
Into which rejected offspring of all planets lay dumped?

The orphan. Adopted. But why.
She be trying so hard to die.

The spell of strength
She’s been cursed with,
No prince can take from her side.

She be in trance paranoid
Kill me, just kill me.
Oh suicide. The only man left. Lost his hard on upon seeing her lust for him.
Then Twitter timelines burst
With claimed expert knowledge of him. And microbiology. And wall paint.
It’s the internet. Everything’s gotta be true.

Yes. She should be so lucky.
But the bomb killed them all, not her.
The children died of starvation, not her.
The guns misfired, pumping all but her.
Even the fuckin tsunami. Be taking it all. All but her.

Oh please. Bone and black.
Any expert analysis, you have?
Bring it. Attack.