We
Never
Quite drew out
A plan or map;
We both just let life
Take us down a river.
Everyone thought us fickle,
Wishy-washy, unfixable,
But we were running free, taking what
We could of our short lives and living them.
The few things we had set in stone - oh,
My brother in all but our names -
Would be eroded away
As soon as we said them
Between each other,
Just memories
Of times where
We felt
Heard.
god
it sometimes feels as if
as if you hold the weight of the world
on your unworthy shoulders
did i imagine you shooting me a dirty look
did the cosmos really choose me to live
why would they do that
why am I so different
why can't I be like everyone else
why can't I just blend
like everyone else can do so easily
why is it such a struggle
to actually smile
even if I want to cry
why am I so self-absorbed
why does the music I play the only feeling I can get
why can't this "phase" pass
why can't you understand
why are you yelling at me
why can I just go to sleep
and never have to talk again
There’s weariness.
If someone handed me a shoebox I would consider shoving myself into it.
Because it’s tempting.
Invisible anger.
Craters.
Decisions.
Worse.
Maybe brains have glue in them.
So I can’t shove ideas in the creases.
My brain is frozen all the time.
I’m half an onion ring.
Always the worse half.
The cobble stones,
they get older,
grainier,
but never
the more,
less fragile.
Eyes that open,
and now
realize.
Dusty steps,
watch the fall...
There's no
blood stains
but fractured
bones.
I'm alone,
where I
was always
meant to end up.
Nothing.
I tried to grasp at the thought of wasted muscles.
I tried to stop joint damage.
Being around people, but they are rotting.
When everyone else is rotting.
And you’re just playing with your thumbs.
Trying to smooth out your thumbs.
Waiting for everyone to stop waddling around, rotting, and falling apart.
While you’re stopped.
Hush.
There’s alone.
And there’s waiting for people to stop rotting.
So I can sweep up.
I’m struggling to stand on my own two legs.
I’m struggling to spell the word “me”
as it’s been the only thing I’ve talked about.
I’m struggling to help those in need of help
without mentioning the word “me”
I’m struggling to talk to the person I love the most.
I’m struggling to want to take a shower every night.
I’m struggling to have the want to study for a test
that I know I’ll fail if I don’t.
I’m struggling to have the want to go to dance.
the need for dance.
i’m struggling to make an effort to survive.
“Don’t you mean live?”
no.
This must be what clinically depressed means.
Drive. Clean. Watch tv. Forget the names
of every flower in the temperate zone.
Go on alone. Keep sleeping. Saturday’s
the sweetest day, all joy, you’re off the clock,
participation’s optional. Each email
a flame of passion. Insects have souls too,
consciousness, a feeling of Flying. Beeing.
Not only humans long for liberation,
no body, no soul, no mirror, no black hole.
Are not the satisfactions of being a good man
among our fellow men enough to sustain us
anymore? A rock thrown, a crow, nemesis.
As I think of things to do I do them.
Same old brain stuff.
Stuffed with extra neurons.
Like chomping on old cabbage.
Dumpster sounds.
Heaps of plaster.
This old brain has paper towels soaked in venom.
Blood vessels.
Hopeless chopped onions.
Boom.
Bloop.
Brain cells only get one leap.
Then they turn into vinegar.
No one can save me, its sad but it's true
It's not a reflection of how I love you
It's something within me, deep down inside
A feeling of numbness that I've tried to hide
It's recurring presence is tiring me now
I want it to stop but it puzzles me how
Why does my body not work like it should?
Why does my mind believe I'm no good?
I want to feel joy, live life to the max
See goodness in others, take comfort in facts
It makes me feel sad that my mind is broken
Writing this now, a pitying token
I do not want pity, I do not want shame
I do not want loved ones taking the blame
I wish I could be so much better at life
I wish I could be a good mother and wife
But when sadness consumes me, I don't want to stay
I want things to end and to just get away
I'm angry because I know its not right
So I stay here today and continue the fight
But deep in my soul there's a truth hidden there
That one day I'll give in to the returning despair
It will catch me one day with its challenging sneer
Directing my actions 'cos I shouldn't be here
Got bedbugs in my belly
Frogmen made of jelly
Sour, shallow, pools of pity
My hollow, wallow city
Jeepers Creepers on my trail
Crypt Keeper tells my tale
My flaccid finger fumbles
Then thunder rolls and rumbles
Hi-Yo Silver! Trigger falls!
My King Crimson stains the walls!
Then the black drips from my eyes!
Jackson Pollock wins the prize!
On the foot, I look the last time,
Waiting by the drizzling time
Thinking as I took a high on river bridge lies the line
'Dunno’, yh I don’t know
How to swim? How to be fine?
Deep in my thoughts, once again I climb,
Stretching across the brink.
Think I’ve to think a thing —
Just washed away by a blink.
Is this the end of the life I lived?
Who knows to carry off the bliss in hollow prime?
Ugly sudden stroke, a jerk, a mirror
Crackling through the aurora of pink sunset
'Help! Help!'
I looked, but it was hazy — tears had vagued my sight
An old woman drowning in the river,
Swept by the heavy flow
I feel like I remember
What better was,
But I can't see it
as clear as I see my flaws.
Yet there is proof.
In photos and videos,
a memory of who I am,
that feels like an echo.
Cause I can see it
past the clouds of gray,
That yes, in fact, there was
Such a thing as a good day.
Days where my thoughts
didn't always win.
Days where a negative magnet
didn't pull the positive from within.
I try to catch a glance,
forcing my way into that moment,
back when I wasn't saving energy
for my mind's endless torment.
I've entered every password
that used to work before.
All those “get better” tasks,
but they're not working anymore.
But I can't remember.
It doesn't matter how hard I try.
I'm locked out of my own system,
with an error code.
Telling me to die.
A gradually setting sun,
In denial for night to fall,
A frightening eternity, despite the attempting stars.
Returning presence of despair,
concludes absence of the light.
Ominous signals from the receptor of a pseudo reality
That there’s no more collagen left to repair
To hold your heart back together;
to deem you warm
For those whom the sun will rise for,
for those who see the stars
Hate them.
The stars are dead anyway
Your biggest star appears to be, too
Some find comfort in the cool wind
But you know,
you’ll forever be in this blizzard
The cracks of a voice spill as your head rests on my shoulder
As I face forward,
and your eyes, behind me.
Our arms wrapped one another,
you dig for the warmth
although it is already surrounding you
But you’re in the glaciers, now
The receptor proves to remain on cooldown
For I, am an attempting star.
There was never a specific moment when I knew it was over
It could have been the first time breath refused to fill my lungs
Or when my own voice first shouted vile things inside me head
Maybe it was when I reached for that blade with shaky hands not knowing I would never put it down
Or when the shouting changed from mine to those whom I love
Perhaps it was when the cold sting of steel no longer made things go quiet
But I guess the first moments aren’t really the ones that matter as in the end they all lead to my last
Three O'clock; I wake
Dancing with my sweet demons
More sleepless, bleak nights
Of doubt and stark misery
Second-guessing my motives.
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