Letter From a Friend

Dear friend,
It's me your roommate,
the person you wish didn't exist -
why do you hide in your room,
why do you curse my name?

We're one and the same,
we look the same,
I'm not a monster with fangs,
why do you hate me so much?

Look in the mirror,
I'm standing behind you
I am you
you clench your teeth,
but I'm your fate.

Which one of us is it,
whose fault is it,
for lungs filled with smoke,
liver with holes,
eyes bloodshot,
it must be yours,
I've always been here -

You'll come to love me,
kiss my cheek, embrace me,
you'll curl into my arms,
you'll wish you never left me.

Yours,
Depression

Day-Drinking, Night-Living

beer number five
shot number six
night number seven

wipe away memories
scrub out nightmares
crayon markings to
dirty fingerprints
on a white wall

suds wash down
sour tastes of
bitter sights where
pasts walk past me

who was I before
un-fuck my mind
drag from a smoke

mock the way
the smoke billows
from my mouth
watch me now
lungs hold in
waves of white
taste of death
and mint julep
on my breath

breathe for four
hold for three
auburn skies above us

hold my hand
stare into the stars
our eyes shimmer
who whispers
"Love Me?"

Cedar Forests

Burning cedar is what I smell right after
a depressive episode.
Burning cedar after a forest fire -
the smell would stay with me
for days, eventually
dissipating.

The burning cedar though
is no longer present -
with words, with body language,
with your voice calling
out to me -
the cedar woods no longer
burn
for days,
no longer burning -

Instead,
growth,
buds rising,
a spring unlike which
I have known.

Burned and dead cedars,
giving life to the forest
anew -

all because of you.

No Mere CinderFella

Do you see that clock hanging on the wall?
It struck midnight a few hours ago -
you know what that means?
That means, this carriage isn't turning into a pumpkin,
I'm still slayin' with my ball gown on -

Stayed home all day, worked and cleaned,
made home feel more welcome than the dungeon
it was with you under its roof;

Not a single tear or depressive episode -
fun, dancing, singing loudly with wild abandon,
no more shushin' from my second worst critic;

They say you should learn one thing a day,
I learned that I need no prince nor princess to save me -
I am my own savior -
don't need a dragon/demon to ride or slay,
this isn't a fantasy, this is me standing up for
myself and smiling in the face of reality.

Keep the glass shoe,
it'll fit when you call me a hypocrite.

Help is What We Deserve (and Need)

maybe it's all just a figment of my imagination,
maybe it's all created as a dramatic distraction,
maybe it's not even real
and I'm chasing my own ghosts,

but what if it is there;
what if it's not a figment,
not a creation for distraction,
what if these ghosts are more than mist,
what if these monsters are real -

I've named them, given them space,
don't make them pay rent but I carry on
anyway.

hellish children are these,
their names vile and putrid in my mouth,
born of the sickness from my brain,
my spawn; anxiety and depression.
a bad infomercial on how to deal with despicable
children, the question:
how do I get better - how do I win against my own demons
that claw and rake and twist
my mind?

The remedy is
here for the taking,
every person is able to
receive it, all we have to do is
accept the help and
push the little mind-killer fear away and
yearn for release.

Emotionally (Un)Available

I wipe your tears,
you tell me about your day,
you call yourself a crybaby and sigh,
you tell me about being reprimanded and how
you feel about being called out and
you look at me with those eyes
that tell me what I've been
wondering - that I'm not
as available as you
need from me -
that you and everyone
see me as intensely being
available and unavailable -
of being here for you with a shoulder
of being with you for every broken light and
every pain and every day where you just want to die -
of shrugging and keeping my shoulders around
my head
my eyes being grey while you try to tell me
what you want me to hear while I'm there but
my mind has shut down because I've
checked out and decided to fly away
while sitting beside you on
the wall in the quad or in the passenger
seat of your Ford Taurus -
I'm not sad or distraught about riding away
with my emotions to a different place while I
sit next to you silent -
though your tears and dejected sigh tell me that
I've messed up,
I wipe your tears,
you tell me about your day..

Baumian Tragedy

I'm the new cowardly lion,
No sense of courage or brawn,
This mask I've had to put on,
Not sure how much longer I can lie,
not sure how long I can be strong...

A recycled tin can,
a heartless rusted silver man,
An emptiness inside, wind whistles through,
A curse holds my body still,
depressions I can't hide...

No mark of smarts or a brain inside,
Poor specimen of straw-mankind,
Filled with natural distractions and woes,
an uneasy life for me,
what kind of scarecrow am I?..

A naive innocent girl is me,
Home is where I can lick my lips,
or is it where my inner self can be,
(or maybe where the tornado tosses me?)
A red stain on my lips, bottom lip pulled by teeth
for all to see.