Depression. Poems

Unrequited Bond

Sometimes love is unrequited—
sometimes it shines,
like the moon and the stars.

But what if it’s siblings
who carry that silence?
A single word
separating five years of life.

Like wood that’s been broken—
no matter how many times
you saw, sand, and repair,
it never regains
its original shape.

And so we live,
close in blood,
but disfigured in heart.
_____________

Twin Curse

Crossing the addictions
of body and soul
Delirium tremens
is taking its toll

Like Nitro and Glycerin
waiting to strike
Their coupling disastrous
all day into night

My spirit when willing
the flesh all too weak
Those few days I’m able
my willpower bleak

The detox not working
no cure comes my way
All food tastes like poison
these shakes here to stay

A bomb ticks within me
its fuse ever burns
Tomorrow

Enigma

Enigma

He who has no name lies waiting in the echos
Of my mind waiting for slumber

He invades my dreams like a dog shaking a rat
Tormenting me until the dawn slips back into darkness 

Daylight keeps this vampire at bay though I feel his
Presence following me in the shadow

Seldom a day goes by when I dont hear

An icy winter air

I spent a lot of time alone in bed like I am right now
Peeking through my windowsill
And watching little children on bikes with training wheels 
But then I looked into my own room, and
Saw something I couldn’t bear

It was like a tornado
But quiet, not a sound
Destructive in its ways that teared me down,
Into pieces, into

Seashell Fists

Seashell fists, salt-bitten and flipping stones 
watching waves contort 
as they crashed into one another

I remember liking how sun rays shone on my teeth
when my face would tilt up as I laughed 
but did my teeth yellow 
from all the days I spent smiling up at the sky?

I, a fluid body plucked 
from the sea

Pleading For Help

There are things in this life
Weighing me down it's true
There's anxiety and depression
Are some hell l go through

The part of life called living
This is the burden I bare
It would be different for me
Maybe if anyone would care

People who are close to me 
Have left me to be alone 
They don't like what they hear
My actions

Ha ha ha gotcha!

Ha...ha...ha... gotcha!

The imagined intimated response
linkedin to a swindler's
imagined thought bubble
silently spouting you ain't nothing
but a pluperfect sucker...
rendered penniless suffered
courtesy a financial blow
now left forced to eat crow
forfeiting every last red cent,
plus if applicable escrow
being analogous to an indentured servant
denied luxury and security of nest egg,
hence peace of mind to forego
pipe dreams given the heave-ho
resigned to

how did it get this far?

i'm at my wit's end
barely clinging to the last remaining illusion
~ hope being the rising sun



Wordku: 15-7-5 words

AP: 2nd place 2025

Scent of Citrus

Water rushing, steam rising, accompanied by the scent of citrus. 
Breathing in the scent of citrus suds to ground myself. 
Trying to keep myself sane. 
Water racing down my face, washing away the stress and pain of the day. 
No longer drowning the day out with water, back to reality.

4:09:05

4:09:05
A familiar time which plays on repeat in my mind
Get the opposite of high, but I don’t know why
Cutting pounds but not just my weight
I’m not trying to over-exaggerate
But I think it’s time to say goodbye.

Being alone isn’t the same as feeling it
I just wanna stop, I just wanna quit

They say all it takes is

the absence of above

i seem to view the world in black and white despite my rainbow soul

my skin seems to seep the moisture of ones misfortune goal

i sharpened my broken fingers regardless of my rusty bones

in hope to fight all misfortunes and hell’s unwelcomed call

instead, i cut myself to pieces until there’s nothing left

then my rainbow soul escapes

G Sharp 7

Left slack at the edge of the violin,
an afterthought of gut and wire,
waiting for the bow that never descends.

Every note passes overhead
like birds stitching the sky.
The hollow body drinks their chorus,
yet no song grows inside this wood.

Ears open in the varnish,
dark mouths swallowing everything unfinished—
a concerto of failures,
a catalogue of unsung hours.

Different, always different,
not melody

The Last Indulgence, Or Maybe The First?

I butter the toast as if it were a pardon,
its crust breaking under my knife
like a sealed envelope.

The coffee is bitter ink,
a confession cooling in its cup.
I swallow it fast,
as if speed could trick the executioner.

When I buy myself flowers
I imagine them lining a witness box:
petals trembling,
each one swearing I once existed.

I take long baths,
the

The Masses

We lead lives of unfulfillment.
All for nothing, our time is spent.
We just live, from day to day,
To support the government.

We are born, and then we die,
No one ever stays.
Our lives are full of emptiness
In, oh, so many ways.

We behave in regular patterns,
Everyone acts the same.
We exist in a world-wide crowd
Where no one has a name.

We

The shadow whisper

It’s whispers.
Can you hear them?
I don’t want to,
but they force me to.

Sitting in an empty room,
with no one—
just a cigarette in my hand.

Every time it touches my lips,
it kills me
and makes me want to avoid it—

I know that cigarette is not good for me,
but I like doing something
I know is going to kill me.

But he

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