I used to write about mountains
I used to write couplets on clocks and school
And I guess there's just so much that's happened
You could say I was fantasy's fool

I used to write in a notebook
And I used to write stories of others
Lines with such positive outlook
Poems of love and promise and color

And now I just write about depression
Each line typed out on a black and white screen
I'd say writing is still an obsession
A personal way of being heard and seen

And maybe one day
The lines will say
I'm happy again
I've found a way
But until that time
I'll use rhythm and rhyme
To express my stress
And to give subtle signs

3:38am

Being trapped in a corner
Where everything stops
And simultaneously
Comes crashing down in a torrent of voices.
Echoing the same self loathing
That you beat every day, and lose to every day.

Looking desperately for a way out
Ready to sell your soul to the wrong buyer
For a quick gratification
Or just a way out.

Boxed in

Cave in, but can’t save him.

Jerking in his sleep but it’s not working

It won’t stop. His head is unlocked
Because he left his keys out of the lockbox

Struggling to breathe.
It’s only been 3 minutes

4.

5.

And then everything stopped.

And he became numb again.

Still twitching. Still feeling it.
 But buried.
Ice over the water’s surface