These days
I spend
a lot of time
not exactly wanting
to die
but just
to be dead, maybe,
to rest.
There's a difference,
or at least
there used to be.
I am regret.
I am self-defeat.
I think about
thinking
more than I
used to.

I guess Depression will do that to you.

My body hurts.
Aches, actually.
It's constant.
In my head,
dull static
But louder.
Thumping rhymically.
Like, really ******* loud
all the
******* time.
Things are heavy.
My arms
weigh far too much.
My lungs
are concrete.
They pump
stale air.
My spine is sawdust.
My spit is mud.
Didn't my eyes
used to be
more blue?

Depression is an ******* who will do this to you.

My words
used to be sharp
and loud.
Electric and
strange, they
tumbled out
of me,
like machine
gun fire,
a swarm
of bees.
Now I have to
pry them
loose, carefully
like teeth.

Depression is mechanical and it's systematically destroying me.

Go under water and breathe in.

2. Take your dinner knife and push it through your heart. Slowly.

3. Open up your skull, and fill it with bees. Dance around a bit to aggravate them.

4. Stare into the sun without blinking.

5. Stick your tongue to a stop sign pole when the temperature is below zero.

6. Walk across a fire pit. Hell, just stand still in the middle.

7. Run as fast as you can and hit the corner of your counter with your hip bones.

8. Bite on your lower lip until it bleeds.

9. Lie on the ground and have someone put rocks onto your chest.

10. Pour grits on the floor and kneel upon them. You'll bleed some, but that's okay.

10. Go outside during an autumn evening with a sweatshirt on. Do you feel that breeze?

9. Read the Bible and wonder why God didn't tell anyone to write a book solely about you.

8. Play with children.

7. Stay up late and watch your favorite shows under thick blankets and pillows.

6. Put up Christmas lights and turn off all the others and think of how happy you were in every Christmas you've ever had.

5. Go to your local ball park and catch a game.

4. Look at how the stars match the same constellations in your eyes.

3. Go camping and wake up early. Make sure you make hot chocolate and fried potatoes and wear a hoody the whole trip.

2. Read poetry and sit at the ocean.

1. Fall in love with yourself too.

I want to rest.

I want to be Earth-
my skin, loose soil,
yellow button dandelions
pushing through
the dirt in my chest,
as puddles fill my outstretched hands
while my hair twists into the roots of trees;
and the wind picks up
to scatters pieces of me
side by side
the dandelion seeds.

I hear words like "***" phrases like "God hates gays".
while these men are my brothers
and i love my family
you sling out wrath as if you're on a war path
some ancient crusade justified by your pride
so secure on a high horse.
I find myself hating you
because you're the problem the world clings to
How many places are we going to crack the mosaic of humanity?
i swear we're bout to shatter.
But you don't seem to think they matter.
like a snake you spit up venom death on your breath
the destruction in your wake
that you say is for gods sake
It makes me sick.
but i'm still wrought with the thoughts of my mother
that you're my other brother
...f#$*ing hate family.
But an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind
x'cept for that last guy who's got problems with depth perception
Now i see why our minds only have one eye
We all see in shallow pools of decrepit perceptions corrupt intentions
I just want to swim into the deep blue unknown
Float there all alone
Sea of tranquility
Then i come to reality
I still have water wings on
And how can i call you arrogant when my life is decaying all around me
But please before rigamortis sets in, stop saying you know the word sin
as much as I hate the prejudice wrought by you
id rather stand in between you two,
gouge out my own eye and die than make the devil cry.

Who am I
This flesh and bone cage
Proving a hindrance
A canvas for the paint
Of scorn and judgment
A creation of a persecution
Deserved by none;
Who I am buried
Beneath brush strokes
Colors that mean nothing
When looked at with a blind eye;
My canvas is one of love
An identity and struggle
One that smudges
Strays from between the lines
Of what is accepted;
But on my life’s canvas
Who I am is who I am
One that I do not even know at times;
Each stroke of the brush
Is a different moment;
My life in color
Vivid, all mine

I remember creeping reverently past
The yawning maw
Snarling braches, overgrown foliage
Sad eye sockets
The defeated roof
Listing drunkenly to the left
The black spirals on the ground
Where the fire had scored earth bare
Crouched from the sanctity of the sidewalk
Damp palm snaking back to
Clasp tight
My best friend’s hand

Fear skittering up our spines
We skirted past poisonous green weeds
That swayed in the yard
Unkempt and our eyes
Darted, seeking, feral
For movement in that open doorway
Her shadow
The witch

Years pass

Looking out into suburbia
Manicured green boxes
And cookie-cutter plans
From my own cracked window
My newly acquired reno,
I spot a flash of moving colour
From beyond the overgrown hyacinths
A tousled flash of curls between the green
Puzzlement ripples as
Three lanky preadolescent forms
Snake from the protection of my shaggy firs
Thin chests taking a breath before
Their whippy arms point accusing
And I barely see a flash before
The clutched rock leaves the
Stupid-looking red headed one’s hand
Crashing through my upstairs master

And I hear it

Witch, witch, where’s the witch?

And I feel it.

My eyes beadily narrow
Peering over my bulbous nose
Shoulders hunching
Toes curl
And I reach for
The broom leaning next
The painter’s cloth
Grabbing on with knobbly fingers
Hurling myself
Out
Of
The door

Their eyes widened
Disbelieving
As they spot me  
And thumbs clutched between index fingers
They run
Leaving me cackling
Breathless

While my familiar
Looks up from
Sunning her black self
On the step.