Tag Archives: depression

Miserys’ Mistress

You are miserys’ mistress. Even if fortune looked your way and gave you the night of your life, you would still sneak back into miserys’ arms.

You claim you desire joy or one of her friends. You claim you yearn for peace, when in reality you allow drama to engulf you.

You are miserys’ bitch. A sly one at that, a submissive slave who may appear to obey when beckoned when in reality it is you who beckons misery.

Misery likes to think it owns you, you let it think it makes all the decisions and has all the power, that misery has a hold on you… It is misery who is your bitch, your plaything.

You throw yourself into a poisonous codependant relationship with each other. So twisted you both are, it’s hard to tell where either of you begin or end.

Misery and you may have an agreed upon open relationship, one that involves daliances with others such as pain, depression or hunger, but you always find your way back into each other’s beds. God forbid you may sleep apart.

Even if you won the lottery or found your one and true soul mate, misery will always follow, not out of choice but because you’ve chained it at the ankle.

God forbid you’re ever torn apart.

Week 20 – The Inevitable Fall

Hear that cracking,
The crumbling sound?
see those small pile of pebbles
that’s turning into a mountain?
Or The tiny crack that will soon be a canyon?

That is her falling apart.
It has been a long time coming
But she knows the end is soon.

She is keeping her distance,
Away from people
No one can be allowed to see.
For if they see her true self
When the mask finally falls
And the facade ends,
She will never be able to build herself up again.

She has been acting strong for so long,
She saw how people believed it
Till she finally believed it herself.
If that image is torn,
It will never be real again.
She will never be that ever again.

She has chased people away
Till the fall and rise are done,
Till she builds herself to who she was
With better reinforcement so it never happens again.

She can never allow her strength and confidence to waver
For the stakes get higher after every fall.

So leave her alone and let her be,
Turn a blind eye
And pretend you don’t see it
Till she makes her way back to the living again

Week 19 – When I Wake

Groggy and sluggish I wake daily
Unable to move my head.
My brain recounts the odd and hyperactive dreams,
That keep me unrested.

I can no longer muster the energy to be spry.
I sit on my bed’s edge like I did back when I was a teen,
Staring at the random grains on the varnished floor
Waiting for my brain to begin ticking.

Cogs are rusty and squeak.
My cognitive faculties deteriorating day by day,
The internal departments unable to communicate as they did,
Once upon a time.

I’ve been avoiding that addictive elixir I call coffee, for many years now
Trying desperately not to rely on its magical properties.
I yearn for the boost and clarity it provides me,
But do not miss the occasional gastric wrenching.
Oh, that Aroma.

Sleep seems to be one of my constant desires,
Yet I fight it for I have so much I wish to do.
‘Wasted Time’ I often think, though I know better.
The ‘wasted time’ still wasted on my lack of energy to do what I wish.

I find myself disconnecting during the day
Just staring off into space.
I may be mid conversation and lose my train of thought,
Sometimes losing it completely.

The whirlpool is strong,
Drowning my mind.
Do I keep swimming against the current and hope for the best?
Or should I just let myself get swept away?

Fatigue… is my shadow companion
Depression is his brother.
Darkness follows their trail,
For a mother cannot leave her children alone for too long.

Fight it all I tell myself,
But sometimes one is too empty
Too empty to wake
To think
To care
And too empty to even drink that aromatic roasted elixir.

If I knew

If I knew where I’m going, I would take what I need and what I’ve always wanted but never had the courage to claim.

If I knew where I’m going, I would spit all those comebacks and justifications that I chose then never to reveal for the sake of propriety or what I thought ¬†was right.

If I knew where I’m going, I would pack lightly, practically, and forsake what was once dragging me behind.

If I knew where I’m going, I would slip out quietly, for once giving up the desire for attention that I desperately sought before.

If I knew where I’m going, I would only look back once ..as tribute for a life once lived.

If I knew where I’m going, I would bottle their laughter, puns and silly jokes

I would box all their unexpected hugs, their knowing nudges, and comfort touches.

If I knew where I’m going I would leave at once, and Leave the mess to be dealt with by someone else.

If I knew where I’m going, I would walk surely, steadily and calmly knowing I no longer, need my thoughts filtered, my expression hidden nor do I need to change the subject anymore,

I would finally stop deflecting.

If I was just sure of where I’m going I would finally be OK

If only I knew where I’m going.

Week 15 – The Peaceful Nightmares

The land of dreams;
Where minds become magical canvases
And thoughts are the world’s mightiest artists,
Creating peaceful worlds
Full of serenity and happiness.

But mine,
Mine is a little different.
It is the void
reflecting my heart;
Empty and cold.
It is the bloody arena
Of lost dreams.
It is the endless parade
Of all my fears
Manafesting the demons of my soul.

It is where I see who I really am;
Lost,
Confused,
Damaged.
It is where denial is futile
And all there is, is brutal.
It is where silence is deafening,
And the screams are empty.
It is where I feel alone
But at home.
It is where the mask falls off,
No need to pretend,
Everyone can see the claws.

My nightmares are the only place where I am me.
They are the home where I find restless peace.

Week 12 – Writers’ Hell

I am ready…. But nothing happens.
Pen in hand
Paper blank
Ready to be filled.
But still, nothing happens.

The feelings are there; broken and tired.
The thoughts are present; screaming in my mind.
But no words seem to be coming out.
No words could ever explain the hell inside.

The voices in my head are mocking me
” you can’t do anything right,
Not even write your own emotions down”
The voices just keep getting louder
And I find myself drifting with them.
“What if they aren’t wrong?
What if I really can’t write?
What can I do without this,
The sweet release of art?”

Writing is what helps me deal with life
It makes me sane and keeps me upright.
It is the only way to clear my mind
And hear my soul.

This wall, this block is my hell.
It bottles my demons up inside
And gives them the voice to speak
And the strength to beat me down.
This block is their weapon.
And writing is mine.
And those poems are the battle grounds.

So I will stare at that paper
Till words obey me
And transform my pain into letters for the world to see
And for me to see the blood of my slain demons.