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 Feb 2017 blackbox
Mims
I've had bad days for as long as I can remember,
Anxiety, loneliness and depression swirling in my head.

(You might think loneliness and depression are the same but that's not true, loneliness is just a SYMPTOM of depression)

I used to have good days,
Light,
Days,
Where it didn't hurt as much,
Any more,
But these bad days come back,
And the came,
And they stayed,
For weeks at a time,
Anxiety had me mumbling,
"I'm fine"'s

(The actual act of being 'fine' is something I've never had the privilege of experiencing)

I got so many bad days,
My therapist,
(Along with my mother)
Tried to convince me they weren't,
ALL bad.

So,
I'm depressed, turned into:
The weather,
And, I'm alone,
Turned into:
Call your friends!
And,
I'm suicidal,
Turned into:
Philosophical.

I don't think you understand...

That this plan,
Of telling me my feelings aren't real,
Or that I shouldn't feel what I feel when I'm feeling it.
Isn't helping me,
Or saving me.
Because I remember being 12,
In an emergency room,
With death on my mind,
And burns on my wrist,
Being told,
I couldn't be admitted to a mental ward,
Because they only accept 13 year olds,
That, the qualifications,
Where there,
That I wanted to die,
But You were,
Just to young,
To be feeling,
What you were feeling,
When you were feeling it.
You shouldn't,
Be feeling what your feeling,
When your feeling it.
The girl that wept beside you
still cries out into the darkness

steel tears that cling to her cheeks

as if shedding them will somehow lessen the weight of her heart

beating now. against a barrier of bones

grieving, howling beneath
a full moon

for what she had with you
My words are but pages
from a collection of unwritten novels.

My heart is an ever-expanding library,
dedicated to you.

You should come check it out sometime.
Diary of the ****** - Chapter 2
My father,
he took me hunting
at the young age of five.

One time we went fishing
on a lake called Cold
I caught a speckled trout,
from then on I was sold.

Then from the sea in a dory
a lobster trap he stole,
I've yet to figure what that was about.

Living in Canada
lends its self to a bounty of beast.

The fowl of the sky
with a rifle I did shoot.
They were tasty and we did feast.

I learned to set a snare
to catch a rabbit
and make a stew.

I'd gut them and clean them,
I learned all of this...
and in the back
in a smoke house
hung all kinds of fish.

You don't have to
be able to understand something
to be able to use it.

But you have to understand something
to be able to use it well.

I guess that this applies to life.

My father and I, well, we were just learning to grow...
he's gone now, and I pray God rest his soul.
 Sep 2014 blackbox
irinia
my town
where wild flowers grow
between tram tracks.
there was a time when
it was hardly morning,
no bridge into daylight.

walls had ears,
neighbors had eyes
whispering behind the curtains
there was an emptiness in the guts
of the city
and poetry locked in the drawers,
Borges was read under the blankets
while Dostoievski was  a comforter:
demons were embedded.

yeah, people were clapping and smiling
watching the nub of history, numb
they had a life to live,
what can you say?

one day the radio
burst on in the streets
some were shivering in the attic
"we are free", they said
"we are free",
came the echo in trance

"shhhhh"! said others,
let us wipe the blood
don't disturb the sacrificed
so we can sleep
without dreams

it's Thursday in my town
streets are weary
and our souls are
slowly expanding
Thank you, Eliot, for this choice! I am glad that this poem was chosen for the Daily Poem because for me it is a reminder that people died for freedom and struggled against oppression in times when "Cruelty knits a snare,/And spreads his baits with care", as the poet says. (William Blake, The Human Abstract)
 Jul 2014 blackbox
huwriting
advice
 Jul 2014 blackbox
huwriting
The best advice I ever got was, write
Just write it down.
When you're happy or sad or don't know what you're feeling
When you're angry or calm,
Write it down.
It doesn't have to be big words,
It doesn't even have to rhyme,
It just has to be true.
Let it be a part of the written world and maybe it won't change what's happening currently
but it will surely be worth it
someday.

  - H.U.
27.06.2014
It doesn't have to make sense to anyone but you. Yep. Best advice.
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