beady eyes
intent on watching my every move,
continuously following me
as i pace around the room
and it is dark,
for i cannot see
but i know these beady eyes are staring at me.

Pin


My mouth has stopped speaking,
My eyes have stopped seeing.
My words are no longer written…
I have no imagination for dreaming.


No feeling for screaming,
No passion to believe in,
No happiness for me;
Only misery.


I have nothing left beneath my rib cage.
Forever trapped in all ways,
In a million mile maze;
No way to relate to the lives people play.


Lost in all ways to your nation of islands;
All stand united, I make no demand.
Ask for no place to barter, life is a non-starter;
Never seen a wedding garter in these days of haze.


Left dazed and confused, with nothing to soothe,
The constant blues, who knew?
Not me, I never did. Did you?
My empathy?  You can keep it!
My apathy lacks all my cares.
Don’t ask me where they are; I am stood at the bottom of stairs
And the first step is too far; I stare into stars,
Looking for a future, but no luck so far.


Let my coffin be gift wrapped, I will not cause a fuss.
Just lay down to rest;
Robot ready to rust and dust is all that will remain;
Because even when I go I will still hold on,
To every searing scar of my pain.


The pain is all I am left with and all I know.
No encore to this show, please, I cannot repeat myself anymore.
I have said enough.
Close the door.


Remove the good vibrations, silence the dawn chorus.
People were sent here only to test us!
Act 1 – I lived.
Forget Act 2.  
Think only of you, like all others do
And when I am run through in this queue,
Where we are all waiting to die,
When ****!  My!  Life!  
Is in the hands of a non-believer;
The fingers no nearer to touching a soul.  
Why am I growing so old?
Why am I always so cold,
To everything they think and say,
For they cannot think, without saying it.



Pins and needles, my nerves are talking,
The timer is ticking and it does not bring anything.
All will soon be gone from this basket-case of mine.
Life is a swine, soak it in wine,
Right on time for the next nasty surprise.
I sigh, I sign my name, my life and oh the days I will never forget.
I have tried…
To forget;
But no luck yet.
No thought for regret.
Contemplate…
Wait…


I have never seen a happy day, 24-seven-straight.
A constant pain, happiness never even looked my way.
Always broken like biscuits at the bottom of the barrel.
Quickly kissed, forgotten even quicker; I hate Christmas Carols
And New Year celebrations because they are all the same.
Each and every year is another year of pain.


I am a faded picture on a damaged milk carton,
Never going to get a heart won,
Because a loser only loses love
And I am lost in a life that is a cartoon.
Drop an anvil on my head so I can see the stars…
And the end.
Love is the pin to my balloon.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

I carry my mother’s words like a prayer
I memorise them like a mantra
Because when people don’t speak words do
her Words are thicker than water

The truth about my recovery?
I lied
I told the truth
I was better.
So much better
a different person
truly, really,
not the me that was dying to die a year previous.
for six years the monsters consumed me
It starts so subtle.
She’s skinnier.
‘No I’m on a diet’
‘I’m a size 0’
your best friend skips lunches.
slowly, surely, the monster slips into your head.
your nightmares are living
compulsions start.
too young.
don’t eat in front of people.
one granola bar will get you through practice until home.
and all the comments egging you on.
‘you aren’t skinny enough for that..’
‘but if you eat salad all summer’
Soon you can’t look at yourself.
Soon the Monster of self hatred turns you to more
because the diets aren’t enough
so spring break after a bowl of corn chips
you close the bathroom door
and the porcelain becomes your ally.
friends may know.
but you can be sneaky.
after all, how else would you manage your size?
Eventually it isn’t enough, you want quicker results.
And the monsters of self hatred are eating you up.
you’ve grown now of course.
pushed away friends who knew who wanted you to get help.
Because this Monster, This darkness in your mind,
your only friend.
No more food.
leave crumbs and a buttered kife.
anything eaten, behind the bathroom door.
And very soon
The blades come out to play.
So intriguing how easy it is.
and how simple to hide.
What an easy release.
17 and 110 lbs, covered in scars on her hips.
I did get help.
I went to therapy.
I loved it.
I didn’t just change these acts
I changed myself.
But I wasn’t better, I was anxious
to be done with it
to be set free.
So I stopped going.
when I wasn't totally ready.
I thought I was happy..
But is that why I relapsed?
It was only once.
But is that why I still find myself depressed?
Sometimes suicidal?
Is it my fault?
It’s usually my fault so I can see how it would be.
I lied.
That’s the truth.
And
I
Don’t
Know.
But I do know
this recovery is a continuous fight.
And I just wonder
Where am I now?

Sometimes
I feel like a terrible person
I've fallen into this kind of pattern
I can't seem to shake
I'm not quite sure
From where I've picked it up
But
I think -- I'm pretty sure
I'd rather be without it