I don't think most people understand depression
                                                    ­                         suicide
                                                         ­                           PTSD
or the cycles that they come in as if they were tides.

People don't see past the smiles and laughter to the darkness within;
That you could be surrounded by love and feel okay
                                                            ­                            yet still be dead

That no matter how much comfort or peace you have it still gnaws away in the beck of your mind and chews a hole in your heart.

Cut wrists and suicide attempts aren't a cry for attention but for help;
does anybody out there hear me? see me? feel the way I feel? does anybody get that I am on the edge and losing it? why does nobody listen? why don't they take me serious? am I worth anything?

It disgusts me we execute the wounded and condemn their suffering;
Maybe they shouldn't feel the way they feel, but it's how they feel, so quit trying to tell them to stop feeling that way!
QUIT TRYING TO FIX THEM

Just be there... they need to know they aren't alone.

Let my unseen wild stream take you there
I have become nothing but air, truly heavenly air

A new way has come to me a language only the old tongues could speak

Is imaginery wisdom not the mother of all ennemies?
Would they believe once the wild wisdom win for them relief?

Few will miss for leaving so suddenly
But i must tell you everything for i have become invisible, impossible to see
Voicelessly i hope you'll understand
I shall tell you briefly how it all began

Alone in the mountains above the trees a child's whisper said to me:
For many years i see you here wandering slowly above the trees
Your humility made you worthy of my peaks
You shall become a wild stream
Then i just dissappeared

Words Of Harfouchism

i change the pronouns
in my poetry
from me
to her
and no
do not be mistaken
i am not her
and she is not me
i do not know this lost girl
yet i do understand her

i have dreams of her
she has eyes that scream
with bags sinking beneath
plump with everything
that she
hides
her hair is unkempt and wild
she tells me her only goal
is to finally be as free and wild
as the drooping loops
her skin is porcelain
and i fear that i might drop her
that my rough touch will not soothe
and that she will break

her cracked lips part
and she says her name is
Anjelica
a pretty name
yet seemingly
too clean for the broken doll

bruise is a pretty shade on her
she has red scars
that chase the dip of her back
and
her voice fills any empty room
as though she is
fighting for a place to speak
as though she is
fighting the silence

i walked slowly and uncertainly
to her room
my feet moving out of instinct
dancing along a cobblestone path
with white cherry blossom petals
scattered like my rambling thoughts
i reach her door
and place a shaking hand on the ****
i twist it and pull it open
moving slowly and cautiously
as not to wake her up
but i am afraid that
she looks even more
damaged
when she is asleep
i reach my arm over her
and she stirs
her stained mattress heaves
as though it's carrying
a burden much heavier than she

her eyelids blink open
and her cracked lips part
as she asks if i'm here for cigarettes
i apologize repetitively
quietly
softly
because i am scared of anger
and she says it's okay
and that she understands
but darling i do not think
your mind could comprehend
how i need them
how i need them to breathe
how they are the air that i breathe
how i breathe them much more simply

i leave with the cigarettes
tucked in my dress
a burn in my hand
and i leave
my dear Anjelica behind
to the destruction of her dreams
and i must confess
i am haunted by memories
and i hoped she held the key

i changed the pronouns in my poetry
from me to she
and i swear they are not about me
but i see myself scrawled in the ink

In a box in a garage
with all the dusty forgotten somethings
that we don't want
but cant throw
there was that photo
and it takes me straight back
****** through a vortex
its been 12 years
and I am broken all over again
every step that I made
every breath that I took
erased

following a creature through the forest
I've been chasing that rabbit for 12 years
following, trusting
she climbs higher and higher
dont look back
we are so far from there
dont look down
and we are never going back
if I can keep up
I know she can lead me somewhere
get me out of here
with leaps and bounces
she jumps off rocks and over rivers
she doesn't stop
she never stops

so I follow
sometimes i forget to follow
I look back at the path
and if you're not careful where you take stock
its not safe to stay here
you're coming up around the bend
and this ledge is narrow
12 years of climbing
and I slipped right back to the bottom
that rabbit she waits
she never looses me
I loose her
but I haven't
she sits and she waits
its hard for her to wait
she hates to wait

She found me in the darkness
In that black hole by the side of the highway
with palm trees overhead
4 o'clock in the afternoon
100ks an hour
I walked that overpass
and I thought about jumping over
or stepping out
I fell down that hole
cavernous and pitch black
all but for that white rabbit
looking at me
waiting for me
we climbed out of there
she lead me out of there
and I've been following that rabbit ever since
still as white as ever

Does it ever get better
I dont know
keep running.

his words slither into my ear
laced with the most saccharine poison

he crawls under my skin
and turns my body into his home --
a parasite leeching off a blissfully ignorant host