Depression is not when I attend a funeral,
And the dead have been prettied,
and the coffins have been chosen.
It is not the sorrow I feel..

Depression is not when I fail a test,
Nor is it when I dishonor my family,
Or when I make a fool out of myself that day.

Depression is when I laugh heartily with family,
And chatter fills the air, it's a grand time!
But hell.. Is it hard to breath.

Depression is when I am alone and at peace,
And the clock ticks and the ink drips,
And suddenly I am suffocating in my thoughts.
Like a deep sea of worry, stress and negativity.

Depression is when my body is stone,
And every move feels like I'm dragging tons.
And so, I shed black tears.

It is when my thoughts are in blots.
It is when I am inky.

~ M.M

You asked me to give you space,
   I told you yes, I'm sorry, I love you.
You asked me to stop reminding you,
   I told you yes, I'm sorry, I love you.
You asked me to give you privacy,
   I told you yes, I'm sorry, I love you.
You asked me to always be positive,
   I told you yes, I'm sorry, I love you.
I asked you to show me affection,
   You told me you're not that kind of man.

I told you I did it for us,
I told you I have anxiety,
I told you I have depression,
I told you I love you more than anything.

You told me I did it to myself.
You told me I make things up,
You told me to stop bringing you down,
You told me I make you hate your life.

I told you yes, I'm sorry, I love you.
   Please don't leave me.

You stayed.

I'm scared to ask why?

Sometimes I swear my mother is colorblind
The other day she said, “Darling, if you were gay, I think I’d know”
Well Mom, there’s a rainbow inside me but you see straight through it
I’m a prism in your hands but you refuse to hold me in the light
Mom, I’m bi
But she won’t understand that
In fact, she doesn’t understand anything
She doesn’t get ADD, or anxiety, or bisexuality
She can’t comprehend my depression, my aggression, my emotional recession
She complains that I don’t open up enough, but when I explain, she is the one that’s closed
What more can I say
Why does it take a panic attack to realize I’m not okay?
The other day when I told her “Sometimes I wish I didn’t exist”
She looked at me as if she was seeing a new color for the first time and she just couldn’t put a name to it
Can I really blame her for it?
All she has known is black and white and I’m showing her a light she’s never seen in her life
She sees a band-aid in her hand while I see a knife
I want to say everything that’s on my mind, but Mother, I’m afraid that you’ll lecture instead of advise
Instead of comfort
So I keep adding to these lies
And apologize
The other day you asked while I was crying, “Are you suicidal?”
And it broke through my heart like a wrecking ball through a brick building:
Loud in my ears, heavy in my chest, and smoky in my lungs
Because for the first time you felt the heat of my fire that you should have felt years ago
You only see a dull hue, but that’s a start for you
You’re finally seeing me, but you’re not going very deep
There’s so much within this glass skin of mine
I’m trying to shine but you cloak me in darkness in an effort to keep me warm
But I’m lightning in a bottle and I can’t control this storm
Soon I’m going to explode and you won’t know what hit you
The other day I wasn’t okay
And I’m still not today
I’m fighting my way through every minute, every second
So while I look like I’m getting better, I’m slowly deteriorating from the inside out
I just want to love who I love without being judged
Be who I am and know you’ll understand
I’m so tired of trying to conceal my lightning out of fear that I might strike you
But maybe my electricity is just what you need to wake up
Every day, I set my alarm clock for 7, 7:05, 7:10, because I just can’t seem to get out of bed
Sleeping is the only way to calm the voices in my head
But my antidote is her poison
You only see it as healing if you’re the one that heals me
You’re holding out that band-aid but I’m running from a knife
When I was little, I wrote left handed
But you made me switch to my right
Well Mom, did you know that lefties are more likely to be artistic, have insomnia, be disabled mentally, have ADD, and be bisexual…

Depression and anxiety
     is a complete
               and utter
                       contradiction.

                                                      You're body
                                                 says '**** it.'
                                       while your mind
                                         says 'what if?'

He made sure to show I belonged to him.
And of course his trade mark,
was a bruise.

I want to fill my mouth,
                   with your body, and
                               taste your existence  
                                                for all eternity.

Some people act like doing favors and pretend they seek nothing
in return. But i've looked at their eyes listened the tone of their
voice and saw the truth between the lines.
It's about power, makes them feel superior, in control, but all they do
is creating chaos and seeing where the chips fall to hell with the
consequences. It's like a complex, do a favor for one person, someone
else suffers. Doing good things is also a warning. Ιdealism can easily become dogma and dogma to fanaticism.

We are two together.
Your touch. My voice. Our scent.
You run your hands up my hip, my side, the edge of my breast, and finally they land, and tighten on my neck.
And my pulse thrills and quickens.
You move within me and my body comes alive.
Lightening fills my veins when I feel the sting of the pull of your hand at my hair.
And my heart beats within my chest. Molten flows from my body.
And all that escapes from my lips is a light moan. A gasp. A whisper of a breath.
Sweetness.