my name is depression,
Because these lows seem to define
my entire mental illness.
my name is depression when I’m lost,
Blacking out from the heavy weight of my mind
My name is depression
When my manager notices I’m not motivated,
And suddenly my career is on the line.
my name is depression
when I’m in the middle of an episode
And can’t be bothered to do classwork
And suddenly I’m threatened with being kicked out of college.
And I’m defined by all of this, purposeless.
My goal is rise above the chemicals in my brain,
Without therapy or medicine.
Because I’ve always taken pride in being independent.
But it’s time for me to ask for help.

In the brash brassy light you stand,
shaky, on two feet
like a lethargic elephant

swaying---always swaying
and the light keeps blazing
and your head keeps spinning

You are beyond the point of exhaustion
there is nothing left
no trace of the self that was

If it is time to sleep
Sleep will not come
She is mad at you

you have refused her
for too long- an accident,
really- but normally

she welcomes you back
normally she is happy to
see you, and you float into her arms

not this time

so you keep swaying under that light
until crawling into bed
and the waiting begins

-------------------------------------

While the world sleeps
you turn and turn
worn from the hours
of thinking about anything
but sleep
the comforter brings no comfort
the pillow does not ease the strain
of your neck, the weight of
your head or
of that racing mind

the worst part about being awake
in the middle of the night
is that there is time
to think about all the thoughts
you pushed away before-
they creep up
and turn into waking nightmares
beastly what-ifs and why-didn’t-I’s

the insomniac is most insecure
with nothing to do

during the day you may
busy your tired body with tasks
ignoring the ache of the eyelids,
the pounding of the head

but at night you cannot
make yourself move
a house is sleeping
the world is sleeping
and you have to pretend
that you are as well

so you stare up at the ceiling
(you have memorized the cracks)
or you count and count sheep
(you have reached 100 and back)
and it’s all so pointless
don’t you see?

The Insomniac is fighting a battle
that never ends

a battle that makes you weaker everyday

how long till your body gives out
and will not fight
anymore?

i’d rather write about the freckles on your back than think about all of the ways in which you quite possibly don’t love me.

i feel sick at the very thought of you picking me apart the way you did; fingers grabbing and stroking in a catastrophic symphony of skin and vulnerability.

let’s read between each other’s lines; share my sentences and punctuate my paragraphs with your mouth; because i can breathe easier on the mornings where i wake up wrapped around you.

because my moods change like the ******* seasons and the spinning in my head doesn’t want to stop.
                                         you tell me that i should probably get a therapist because no one that thinks about all the ways in which they could **** themselves has an ounce of mental stability.
                                          i tell you that i have been to four.
                                          names faded into a blur with hazy snippets of conversation remaining.
20mg.
                    30mg.
you tell me that trust issues and scars aren’t endearing and i tell you that neither is counting up the potential number of pills needed to dissolve your body into the living room carpet.

let me sink inside your skin and make a home in your flesh;
i tell you about the nights where i lay awake in the bath turning the water red.
                       tragic, isn’t it.

you tell me that this isn’t how my head should work and i tell you that i already know. everything you could possibly tell me i already know.
i know that 400 calories a day isn’t normal, and my hands shouldn’t shake all the time.
                                             i know.
please let me stitch myself into you, even just for a while; until i no longer feel dizzy and my world stops spinning.
i don’t need you to tell me that it will be okay, because honestly i don’t think it will be and, that in itself, is okay.
                                                                ­                 let me stitch myself into you, because my own skin can’t take it anymore.

let me call you back when my voice stops wobbling and my vision straightens out, but honestly, i’m terrified that it never will. what if this is it. headaches and tears and shaking and blood.
                                             and the debilitating, gut-wrenching feeling of pure and euphoric emptiness.

                                              tragic, isn’t it.

I can no longer hide
My soul ignited

once disparaged
I long to share it

The chills in my spine put into words

Lips on skin
Eyes filled with sin

What is this sensation

I drip colors you cannot see

Heightening my passion
Enhancing my touch

Raw emotion channeled as such

My desire aches
The color of flush
My cage breaks
Expressions of lust

I do not fear it
I can hear you blush

My favorite sound

Our souls combust

Her eyes were like the ocean,
So blue, yet far from the emotion.
Her hair was a straw like gold,
A beautiful girl but her feet were always cold.

She brings herself down,
Like every guy that comes around.
So scared of being of being broken,
She leave all her thoughts unspoken.

If only they can see how beautiful she is,
If only they knew how clever she really is.
If only someone would show her how beautiful she is,
If only someone would tell her how clever she really is.

her auburn hair was messy,
And I figured it reflected who she was,
Bright but a mess,
And I was absolutely right.
she’s the type of girl that stays up all night,
Just to look at the moon and watch the sunrise
she believes there’s still more to learn,
more people to love.
and she never stops.
she never stops working, she never
Stops loving people,
Even when others deem them unworthy.
She spends her days saving lives,
Couldn’t bare to save her own.

And everyday she wakes up,
So full of love, but so scared to invest in anyone
She just wants her mind to stop racing.

Her clothes drape loosely on her body,
And her eyes don’t shed a tear anymore
she puts on her warpaint.