"What do you think when I say “dirty girl”?
Needing so hard to be loved,
Her legs spread themselves,
Whispering
“If we do this, he’ll stay"
"
If I could regenerate any damage to my body,
I would double back flip belly flop
off the tallest building I could find.
I would make you watch.
Would not tell you it won’t kill me.
When my body hits the ground,
turns bone to dust,
when blood splatters across your face
there will be a moment
where your heart stops,
where the belly drops out of your everything.
I would calmly walk over to you and say
yeah, ever since you killed yourself
it’s been like that for all of us
All of the time.
If I could fly,
I would take you so high so fast
you would be terrified that wind resistance
alone would rip you out of my arms.
Don’t worry.
I would hold onto you with a strength
born of fear and longing.
When your vision starts to go black
I will whisper-
If you’d only told us something was wrong
we could’ve held you
told you we loved you.
We could have helped.
I would stop,
as the oxygen floods back into your brain
everything would come into focus.
I would tell you yeah,
every day was like that with you,
you always made sure
we saw the glory in front of us.
If I could read people’s minds,
I would not invade your privacy.
Instead I would eavesdrop on every passerby.
tattoo my arms with all the compliments,
every wow she’s good looking,
every I wish I was that confident.
Meeting all of your ex-lovers
would turn my chest and back into a masterpiece.
Record every thing they should have told you
every how could I have ever let her get away,
every she was the best thing that ever happened to me.
My legs would turn into patchwork with hatch marks
for every time I wished you were still with me.
It would not take a full day
to cover this body with all of the nice things people
didn’t think you needed to hear.
If I could travel through time,
I would go back to the moment
before it was too late.
Right before the moment you wrote a suicide note
that started Dear Jared:
I’m doing this now because I know you will be the one to find me
because of all of my friends I think you’re the one
whose strong enough to take it.
What made you think I was strong enough to take this?
I would go back to the moment before you
became the reason I don’t read letters
without having someone else proof read them first,
If I could project my thoughts in another’s heard,
even knowing it could never have saved you.
But believing maybe it could have saved me,
you would never have doubted,
even for an instant,
that you were loved.
Hi! And yes, it’s a great school with a little something for everyone. Since it’s so big there are opportunities for everything you’re interested in and all kinds of people. You get from it whatever you put in.
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(via see-you-forever)
Loveblood: Exit Wound
you are an exit wound
the extra shot of tequila
the tangled knot of hair that has to be cut out
you are the cell phone ringing in a hushed theatre
pebble wedged in the sole of a boot
the bloody hangnail
you are, just this once
you are flip flops in a thunderstorm
the boy’s lost erection
a pen gone dry
Called “the perfect place to die,” the Aokigahara forest has the unfortunate distinction as the world’s second most popular place to take one’s life. (The first is the Golden Gate Bridge.) Since the 1950s, Japanese businessmen have wandered in, and at least 500 of them haven’t wandered out, at an increasing rate of between 10 and 30 per year. Recently these numbers have increased even more, with a record 78 suicides in 2002.
Japanese spiritualists believe that the suicides committed in the forest have permeated Aokigahara’s trees, generating paranormal activity and preventing many who enter from escaping the forest’s depths. Complicating matters further is the common experience of compasses being rendered useless by the rich deposits of magnetic iron in the area’s volcanic soil.
Due to the vastness of the forest, desperate visitors are unlikely to encounter anyone once inside the so-called “Sea of Trees,” so the police have mounted signs reading “Your life is a precious gift from your parents,” and “Please consult the police before you decide to die!” on trees throughout.
Contemporary news outlets noted the recent spike in suicides in the forest, blamed more on Japan’s economic downturn than on the romantic ending of Seicho Matsumoto’s novel Kuroi Jukai, which revitalized the so-called Suicide Forest’s popularity among those determined to take their final walk. (The novel culminates in Aokigahara as the characters are driven to joint-suicide.)
Locals say they can easily spot the three types of visitors to the forest: trekkers interested in scenic vistas of Mount Fuji, the curious hoping for a glimpse of the macabre, and those souls who don’t plan on returning.
What those hoping to take their lives may not consider is the impact the suicides have on the locals and forest workers. In the words of one local man, “It bugs the hell out of me that the area’s famous for being a suicide spot.” And a local police officer said, “I’ve seen plenty of bodies that have been really badly decomposed, or been picked at by wild animals… There’s nothing beautiful about dying in there.”
The forest workers have it even worse than the police. The workers must carry the bodies down from the forest to the local station, where the bodies are put in a special room used specifically to house suicide corpses. The forest workers then play jan-ken-pon—which English-speakers call rock, paper, scissors—to see who has to sleep in the room with the corpse.
It is believed that if the corpse is left alone, it is very bad luck for the yurei (ghost) of the suicide victims. Their spirits are said to scream through the night, and their bodies will move on their own.
