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ern kingham Oct 2014
How am I supposed to think when my thoughts are like cars racing.
When my thoughts are of cars racing....at me.
How am I supposed to breathe when the water that normally keeps me afloat is now over my head.
When the water that kept my life balanced, is now flowing overboard.
How am I supposed to let you in when the door is locked and there is no key.
When the door is a brick wall I can only bang my head against in hopes that you might hear me.
How am I supposed to survive when I can't even think,
when I can't even breathe,
When I can't even let you in....

To save me.
ern kingham Oct 2014
I go in circles of self love to self loathing
I go in circles of I love her, I love her not
I go in circles of I'm straight, I'm gay
I can feel my life cycling slowly as if it were going down the drain.
I go in circles of happiness and depression
I go in circles of I can do this, no I can't
I go in circles of being too full and starving
My life is cycling like a bike up an unknown path
And I know at the top of this path, at the bottom of this drain I might find something worth living for
But right now I feel dizzy from all of these circles
ern kingham Oct 2014
Did you know me and you are just the same
We know pride and we know shame
And though we don't look at all similar
Both our hearts march to the beat
Of the melody we call our lives
It's not our outsides that tell who we are
It's our insides and what we keep in our heart
Our eyes look at the same people
Yet we see different things
I know that pain
I know that shame
The eyes of another starring at you with blame
We share the same insides
but not the same brain
You look at me with such disgrace
But we are both people made by God's grace
My preference of mate,
Or the gender I am,
Nor the color of my skin
Should tell you who I am and
Who I am not
My words and actions should speak for me
And I say you should let my people be
For God made us too
With his very hands
We are the same you and me
We are both humans who think and breathe
We know the same love and we know the same hate
But I spread pride while you spread shame
  Oct 2014 ern kingham
Molly
Should I be concerned about the state I'm in?
I'm not sure how bad it is,
honestly
I can't tell because
what used to be bad days are good days now
and I guess that's what people mean when they say
you'll learn how to live with it.
I think you just become one with your demons
and soon you're saying things you never thought you would
like maybe happiness isn't all everyone says it is,
maybe weakness is a kind of strength,
maybe I just won't get better and that'll be okay because
recovery
is a marathon, not a sprint
but some days I can't even bring myself to get out of bed
so that trek seems impossible.
I am getting used to the emptiness;
I hardly think about it now,
and by that I mean I always think about it so
it doesn't seem like a big deal anymore
and these days crying is a nonevent,
my eyes are bloodshot more often than they are clear,
and my friends have stopped asking how I'm doing.
I guess I seem pretty stable and
I guess that's accurate,
I'm pretty regularly in a state of numbness
manifesting itself in
tequila and
the word okay and
art that people choose not to see the underlying meaning in.
I have written a suicide note every day for the past six months
but I call it poetry
and that somehow makes it okay to say these things-
by putting my turmoil into stanzas
it becomes a metaphor rather than a cry for help and
nobody will take this one seriously, either,
nobody seems to be concerned about the state I'm in.
I am learning to live with it.
ern kingham Oct 2014
Most
people connect
the freckles on their skin
to create constellations of stars
I try to connect the acne scars only to find that nobody wants to see those lines of insecurities that travel down my back, and over my shoulders
My shoulders that feel like they carry the weight of the world, are
strong, are scarred, are swimming-built, are still beautiful.
despite what those who do not know me may think.
This star shaped poem was too insecure to be finished......
ern kingham Sep 2014
When you breathe in, not all the air comes back out.
That is to say that there will always be a little air left in your lungs.
A little pocket of dreams that won't leave until you do,
A small compartment holding every hope ever felt for you.

I like to think that all of our good moments are kept there
Our hopes and dreams for days to come, and
The sunshine and laughter of days gone by.

When we are stuck in that bad place,
It is that breath of hope that keeps us alive
The air that never escaped our lungs on the best days
saves us on our worst.

From the day you were born,
From the moment you took your first breath,
When that small bit of air didn't exit your lungs,
That is when you started holding on to hope.

Keep breathing,
Keep holding on.
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