If Depression conducted traffic
The way it controls most other things
People wouldn't judge my driving nearly as much
You see, it's not me. It's Depression.
But I can't use that as a valid excuse-
Honestly Officer, I didn't do anything,
Depression was behind the wheel all along.
Depression is a teenage cry for attention,
Not a diagnosis that garners sympathy casseroles
Even though I didn't eat last weekend
Cause I couldn't get out of bed for the life of me.
If Depression managed medication
With all the strict precision with which
It regulates chocolate cravings maybe
My body wouldn't revolt so violently, so frequently
And then maybe I'd be good for something
Without constantly fearing my eyes deceived me.
Here is a sample from my most recent poem, a piece about managing anxiety and depression. The full version is available exclusively on Medium. Check it out here: https://medium.com/@briannarduffin/final-road-trip-1f140fa04be9
What you gave him was something
So monumental you naturally forged it
Into something unforgettable.
You’re not fireworks on New Year’s Eve,
You’re the Big Bang- Life illuminated.
There aren’t words for that known
To a monosyllabic tongue like his.
But, nevertheless, he wanted something
And you gave him just what that was,
The golden egg your pet dragon begged you
Guard with your life in each waking hour-
Please… vigilance, and don’t forget, care.
Excerpt from a poem I wrote recently. Read the full piece here: https://medium.com/@briannarduffin/monument-15a6e5d5efdb
Jumped off a roof.
Back up: betrayal.
Dinner with the enemy,
and flashbacks to, well,
the Old Days I suppose.
Beauty and the Beast
Pervert and Pretty.
What have I missed, boy?
I woke up in all gray
Lived through the ugly day
And I found God, somewhere.
But don't mind my Spanish
and please ignore the self-loathing
until I find my cloud of white light.
This poem was made from an excerpt of one short story I recently published. Check out the full story (with images) here: https://medium.com/@briannarduffin/wrongful-death-of-self-d34c50c8ffe4
All the songs always told me
When you know, you'll know
And I know
I know that I've Done this before
But I also know that it's never
So come on little heart of mine
Let's give this
Come on you beaten golden thing
Give it one more try.
This is the first part of a piece I recently wrote that a lot of people liked. If you liked this excerpt, please check out the full poem. The best place to view it is here:
Whatever you seem to think I have
Is what you seem to want from me
Seventeen is too young for life,
But real to you became real to me
You were only interested in love
When all I wanted was space.
I know you demanded I stop running.
It’s just that I wanted to run from you.
Diamonds sparkle for people like you
And still, I’d rather not hold the cold.