Jacques Rigaut – Sanctified Through Suicide

I walk on the shores of despair, looking at the vast chaos of a world I am not a part of.
It seems easier to sink than to swim.
The cerulean hues guide me to my destination.
I will arrive before anyone else.
Everything accelerates to a halt.




I knew it was time
The destination was within sight
But I couldn’t arrive

It ties me down
To a constant state
of despair and rage
Memories eclipsed any joy
I could have felt

I let it destroy myself
Yet reconstruct
the lives of others
For an irreparable past

Frustration, satisfaction
Desire, disgust
Unable to be discerned



I am unable to connect. The system is not built for such a purpose. How do the many others smile and laugh? How do they touch and feel? Suffering upon suffering, I amount to nothing, only able to recall undesirable memories with absolute precision. It’s always on repeat in my mind, a flawless machine never worn out. Every occurrence that is meant to be a mark of accomplishment will always remind me of the failure that is. Every event that is to bring happiness ends up being the most traumatic experience yet. I extrapolate my future with the knowledge that I have. Without the slightest attempt at shaping it, it unravels itself. A formless creature of despondency. But the worst part of all is to grow numb to all of it, unfazed by the sadness of existence.



Alex Rigaut


Trapped in the idea of their childhood
And lost in the ambitions of their former self
They dream of becoming an intellectual being

Existing purely for sciences
Unaware of the world outside
They believed in their own illusion too strongly
That slowly they ended up killing themselves
But it didn’t matter

They exalt death!
Just as others exalt life

It Is

He started crying and he didn’t understand why. He picked up a paintbrush, now a foreign companion, bringing back memories from so far away. Some things so past you shouldn’t feel anything when you recall them. But again, it always hurts. It hurts when you forget, it hurts when you remember. 3 years seemed like 90, and it echoes in his mind about what he could’ve been and what he couldn’t surpass. There is no respect and tolerance for failure. It takes just one mistake to lose everything. Every friend he ever knew and loved couldn’t understand. The paints scattered on the floor, a reminder of his responsibility. He touched them but he couldn’t feel. Whatever joy he once had in documenting his journey with these companions, it was all lost. He trembles at the thought that his future is fixed, that this is how it is and how it will be: a constant chagrin and endless despair. Strangers and friends are alike in ignorance. He lied to them all, but they never knew him so they thought he was the telling the truth. No one cared enough to ask and to accept. He stared at the empty canvas for hours on end, too afraid to begin, too afraid to do nothing. And every second to him is a lifetime of suffering. Can’t you hear, don’t you listen?

– 16 March 2017

Burnt Out

He’d blend in with the rest on the city streets. Another faceless man to walk by, plain and fatigued.

He is lost in the thoughts of a childhood he never experienced. Everything was better because it never happened. Every success praised, every failure comforted. The young child is inspired and full of dreams. In his eyes not a hint of distress and the only tears he shed were tears of happiness. He is among friends, unaware of what solitude felt. He would go on exceeding expectations and live every day of enjoyment. Birthdays are celebrated. Smiles and laughter. They all love him. He could feel.

His only wish was for it to be… but it’s only better because it never happened. He sits alone now, holding his knees and staring at the vacant space of the suffocating room. He is the child of dreams, he is the man of delusions. How pathetic it is, to be killed by memories of a fictional past. So, selfishly consider that his pain is nothing compared to others’.

– 17 March 2017

Nova [A poem of an original character]

Above the ground
Of snow and silence
Overlooking the cities
A future peace
But still an enemy within

In this infinite universe
I could travel anywhere
Go against myself
I could be free
Though I may be
Out there alone

I drift away aimlessly
Into a space
Made of synthetic dreams
But somehow
It feels good to fall deeply
Into cosmic memories
Long forgotten

My happiness
Is somewhere
Beyond the stars
If I only knew