My mother told me that you can't cure depression,
that taking pills wouldn't fix me and taking six instead of the one the doctor prescribed definitely wasn't going to speed up the process. But then I met a boy who tasted better than Sertraline. He made it easier to get out of bed. He kissed me like I was alive, like I wasn't empty, like maybe there was something left inside me. He made my bones ache less when he touched me. He made it okay. When my world was crashing down around me, he picked up all the pieces. When I stopped breathing and tried to tear open my veins to find the last bits of happiness left in my veins, he was there to lace me back together. But he left and I haven't washed my hair in three weeks.

My mother was right.

I know you are the type
Who loves feeling sad
Who builds a temple out of sorrow
To worship your despair

I know you dream of death
Not real death
But escape
Like a love story
That ends absolute

I know you like the dark
And fear light
For someone might shine it down your well
And you won't be able to hide

I know you are the type
Who fears light
For fear of being burned
Who fears smiling
For fear of crying again

People always say that it hurts at night
and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3 am is the equivalent of being heartbroken.

But sometimes
it's 9 am on a Wednesday morning
and you're standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the coffee to brew

And the smell of dusty sunlight and Columbia roast makes you miss them so much
you don't know what to do with your hands.

We are a whisper in an auction hall
where the greedy bid in a vile clamour.
We are unwanted; unheard in our call.
And yet it's our necks under the cold hammer.
In cowardice, we wait for it strike
like goats being lead to their slaughter.
And as the price inflates in an awful spike,
we are drowned deeper under their laughter.

' Sold! To the gentleman in black'

The gentlemen with the creeping crooked grin.
The gentlemen with the suit worth a home.
The gentlemen uncaring of hardship; unaware of sin.

I just want time to think
On what I’m going to do
But first I need to get some sleep
Before I work things through

I just want time to think
Before I live my life out
But the bills are so impatient
And the man won’t give me time-out

I just want time to think
About who I want to be
But the demands just keep on coming
What with kids, the house, the family

I just want time to think
Before I get too old
About how to spend my waking hours
Whilst I’m sort of in control

I just want time to think
About how much I can take
The more stuff piles on top of me
The more I think I’ll break

I just want time to think
A padded cell would do
Where nothing from the outside
Can stop me thinking my life through

I just want time to think
And then I will be ready
To plan out all my days ahead
And make life happen just like I said

I’d stop the phones and emails
End all media bombardment
I’d put my feet up, my head down
For just a month I’d be out of town

So talk to me right after that
I’ll give a different answer
To the one I’d have to give you now
The one I’m used to handing out

I just want time to think
Before saying yes or no
I might just have to say maybe
I’m sorry I just don’t know

i'm a broken mess
this pile of flesh and bones
doesn't feel like home

not a day goes by
that i do not think of you
and how you left me