Screaming my pain that to the ones I love most
No one is listening
To the rumble in my stomach or to the ache in my heart

Do you see me now?
Once I cut my lips and bruise my arms
Do you see me now?
Was it not enough to say I can't do it anymore

I don't know how many pills I need
How long does it take to hit me
I want to be broken
I want to be loved
"You can't have both"

So here I am torn into pieces
You picked out the best ones
Now I'm just a broken record

Screaming
Love me
Love me

Screaming
There's nothing left of me
There's nothing at all

Its easier to tell people I've just been staying up too late.
That I lost track of time in a book or a show or a song.
It's easier to say that I've been writing a lot or it was an accident,
the time, when I looked at the clock
But the waves I've been told are in my eyes, see no shore in sight. They crash against themselves restless and relentless begging for some substance, some rescue from their depth.
Its easier to say anything than to admit I am depressed.
My mouth offers those fragile words like a poor orphan lifts its trembling hands. And the cold bite these impoverished muscles have sustained beg for the warmth of rest.
But when I say I am depressed and I have thoughts, greedy scheming cackling and cunning figures that torment me yet are children of my anatomy. And I cannot stop them for they are chemical beings. The guards of my vaults turned to dust running rampid through my neurological waves transmitting.
It is easier to lie than say these things kept me up all night. Than to say I have a better friend in my ceiling and in my bed then I do with sad cathartic feelings in my head.
It is silent and I stare.
There is a lamp in the distance and it's glow feeds hope thin as a spiderweb to my conscious constant despair. As the hours pass and I become vengeful my fight between becoming more and less aware.
The unified splits and divides it pulls and separates, hemispheres left and right creating two alternative sides of me. There's one militant that says get up and one that just says no.
No because it is afraid, no because it is sorry, no because it has obeyed the skewed perception that it is guilty. She is scared, she is stained with ideas that do not match her character but she clings to them because they have clung to her and truth is a steady companion but her truth was not right.
The other half is the anger yelling "why the hell are you like this?" and " Life gets so much better, think of all the things you're going to miss." Or accusing her of being meek and frail for attention, slapping her face, pressing knuckles into her heart, she is strong with her air of condescension. Yet she is the little self love her mass can contain. Her motivation is harsh but it holds the other as it sobs cooing and assuring "it's okay".
It's easier to sleep all day and not deal with any of this than have to explain it to you when you ask. Majority of the time I am met with knives not of verbal speech but of ignorance, inept hands and averted eyes.
It's easier to put on a face and say it was just one time than have you walk past my tear stained cheeks refusing to offer comfort as I anticipate the night. You know yet you do nothing so I would rather keep you unaware.
Than tell you I'm depressed so when you let me down the blame is mine to bear.

Walk with me through this barren desert.
As we search for the life that was once here.
The forest that filled this land vanished
As nature left in search of better ground
Only to consume itself
Leaving behind this barren wasteland.

Although we traverse together, our hearts and minds are miles apart.

Consumed by our own thoughts
Our own pain.
It is all that can fill the emptiness of this land
We drink but thirst.
We eat but hunger.
Our agony is as filling as the void of this desert.

Mindless we walk as lost souls fill this world
Traveling with no destination
Walking this same path every day.
Our lives are consumed by this desert.
It is all we see.
It is all we know.

Do you ever meet someone who has a messy room
clothes scattered everywhere knickknacks empty food wrappers piled so high you can't even see or find the floor because it's buried under miles of a mess
and when you ask the person why they don't clean it up they say
I know where everything is
I like it this way
it's comfortable
I'm used to it
comfortable messes
we make those a lot in our lives maybe not in our rooms but certainly in our minds
we the ones that feel too much
Misunderstood
rejected
Neglected
Ignored
spending our whole life fighting for just a scrap of attention
that falls from the table of the normal ones
the holy gods
who know what love without doubt reflection without disgust
friendship without fear
life without a façade feel like
because they aren't being constantly traumatized by their thoughts.
I am on a first name basis with depression and anxiety
They come over nightly and are the first ones that greet me in the morning. Trash talking me to sleep and warping my perception when I wake. Apologizing with every inhale cursing me with every exhale but at least they hold me and say "I'm here" an abusive comfort but it's comfort none the less since nothing else offered it's hand when I asked
Its front door is my ribcage
its favorite place is my cheeks.
I became a home
letting sadness fill the vacancy tragedy put in my chest
and I guess being needed was nice when I didn't think anyone else did.
I was unaware of renovation they had in mind
Replacing my passions with paralysis
My deity with doubt
My social scene with solitude
My self esteem with sharp objects
And the persuasive whisper that it will feel good I promise replaced my cry for help and turned me into an addict with the pink flesh to prove it.
I even get to wear short sleeves cause nobody notices
Cue the incessant bullying of being an attention seeker
Because I didn't pull down the curtain of long sleeves over my struggle
I was honest and you said I was weak
But you're right
I am not sick
I do not need a doctor
I am a circus act
And the ringmaster is suicide.
I did all I could
I asked and you denied
I verbalized and you said it was an illusion
Well how about a disappearing act
Where I will hear the applause of my consistent companions depression and anxiety and all the boys and girls who mocked me and even you who kept going even though I said no
You took my worth by the roots and planted deception in its place and deception became truth because worth had already withered away
I am standing in a room and I cannot find the floor
It is a mess but I am used to it
This is how I was raised
Drowning in the sorrow and it's comfortable.



But you'd miss the colors wouldn't you?
The green of the grass
The blue of the water
The pink of bubblegum
The red of roses
You'd miss the sunsets wouldn't you?
For every time you went on a walk at dusk and said "this can't be the last one I see"
And you'd miss the future wouldn't you even though it seems incredibly dim right now and the pointlessness is the point to a pen of grief with which you'd scratch out every what if and possibility
But the pens not in your hand
And the right king can put Humpty Dumpty back together again
Your life doesn't always have to be held together by a safety pin
It will take time but there is always the option of a needle and thread
So once more will you extend you hand if I told you that hope is willing to reach back
And it has scars just like you
Misunderstood
Rejected
Abandoned
And bullied too
Hope isn't ashamed to associate with you it
It's favorite sound is your voice
So you have a choice  
Will you let the reasons win or will you let hope in?
You can still be a home
You have a garden inside you but you now have a gardener that knows how to let worth grow
And it's only renovation plan is to evict the
Unwanted
Unneeded
Unloved
Unimportant
Identity you've been
Living in
Because you may be on a first name basis with depression and anxiety but they are not your friends
Because they never fed you love they made you overweight with lies instead
But hope has a scarlet thread and it knit a sweater for your heart because it is fragile and hope never wants to tear it apart and I promise you that redemptive love says you're enough
And it washes over you like the euphoria of a kid going to Disney for the first time
Acceptance without alteration
Kindness overthrows isolation
You are so much more than the stress that got to you, that's why Hope died on a cross, to say I love you.
I am standing in a room
It's a mess that's im used to
But I'm finally uncomfortable
I'm willing to risk starting again
I'm on a first name basis with Jesus
And as he clears it all away
The weight of freedom falls
My sadness doesn't own me anymore
I can finally see the floor.

They say things
and they wonder why we laugh
Because we have to giggle
just now and then.
See the funny side
and there is one.
Just open up your chuckle muscles
to the world
let rip, let the tears of laughter flow
Just let go.
Loosen up
let go of worries
they will come back
but in a better light
just laugh like you have never laughed before
smile the biggest grin on earth
show those sparkly white teeth
go on have a good giggle.
It will be infectious.
Smile and the whole world smiles with you.
Try it. Do it now.  See it works. Im smiling.
Now im giggling.  Now I am howling with laughter.
Are you?

trying
trying to put all these pieces
together

sat I
did among the
enchanters

listening
believing all their lies
when

all
it was I was seeking I
suppose

was my innocence back

And The Moor Was White
A sea of snow sliding
Moving like a river
Drifting, I saw it drifting
if on skates, gliding
And the moor was white.

Twinkling, it shone
The snow glistened
I stopped, took off my hat
And I listened,
And the moor was quiet.

There were tracks
Footprints from a bird
I admired its path it took
I put back on my hat and heard
The moor seemed to whisper to me.

The wind brushed my face
And persuaded me to stroll
And there on its side
Was a new born foal.

It was alert, looking for shelter
Cold, hungry and in desperate need.
The moor was a lonely place
I gave it all I had so it could feed.
And the moor fell silent.

I made my way through the woods
Out of the drifting snow
The foal followed me to a path
And I showed him the way to go.
Back to the moor twinkling and white.