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 Sep 2014 John
August
It's three a.m. & I am not asleep

How could I close my eyes to nights like these?

When thunder rumbles my ribcage and breathes an ache into my chest

Where water droplets drip onto my thoughts & liquefy them

Lightning coursing through my shaking veins

Every strike echoing & electrifying my brain

Chilly breaths that creep along my skin, serenading it

My cigarette with every pull more luminant

I've circumvented myself into side effects of hopelessness

The sounds of rain stripping me softly into submissive erosion..
Amara Pendergraft 2014
 Sep 2014 John
August
Teem
 Sep 2014 John
August
I oftentimes find myself compensating for my creation

As if merely existing is an extraordinarily enormous insult in itself

And my reason for living is to repeatedly apologize for breathing

Because the space I am apart of isn't and never will be where I am wanted
Amara Pendergraft 2014
ONCE, when midnight smote the air,
Eunuchs ran through Hell and met
On every crowded street to stare
Upon great Juan riding by:
Even like these to rail and sweat
Staring upon his sinewy thigh.
 Aug 2014 John
verdnt
it's been a while, so i thought to get back in the swing of things, i'd post a poem i wrote a few months back. enjoy.*

“some people, most people actually, die before they die. and the death of the mind is so much greater than the death of the body,” my therapist tells me,
his frown barely hidden behind his beard, his brows furrowed and forehead thick with sweat.
i sink into the soft leather couch, hoping the fabric will swallow me whole.
“you need to accept the fact that he is gone.”
so much of my spirit has been torn down.
yesterday, i had a panic attack in the supermarket because my mom picked up a box of cheerios, i was told to avoid two-lane freeways because it would be “too easy,” and i had to run to the bathroom to keep from collapsing because someone was wearing his cologne.
“in order to be happy, you need to let go,” my therapist tells me. i have done everything i can, spent countless hours purging my memory from anything having to do with him.
but i can’t breathe and small parts of me keep seeing him in flashes;
in the wildflowers that grow in the field next to my house, a cloud of smoke out the car window, in clouds and sunsets and the pages of every book i read.
these are the parts of me that don’t want to let go.
but i’m getting there. i am a warrior, i have battled my toughest opponent for years and it will always be myself.
and today, i woke up early, poured myself a cup of coffee, and watched the sun rise.
today, i learned in health class that the femur is the strongest part of the human body. but it’s not. it’s the heart.
see, mine has been broken; it’s been shattered, ripped, torn to pieces, and thrown to the floor like a plate of glass in a fit of rage.
and still, it manages to beat 100,000 times a day and pump 1.3 gallons of blood a minute through this tired body.
i learned that something is always fighting for me, even if it’s only my heart.
i learned that letting go is not necessarily a bad thing.
“but i also think that when we die a part of our soul sticks around those we love. so if you think about it, he is still with you,” my therapist tells me.
i think that’s beautiful.
i can breathe easier.
I dedicate this to one of my closest friends. John, I miss you every single day of my life. I hope you are happy, I hope you are surrounded by wheatgrass and sunshine and tall trees just like we used to talk about, I hope you are proud of me. I love you. I can't wait to see you again.
 Aug 2014 John
Quentin Briscoe
Place knives to throats and slit
We all will bleed red blood..
I can't take off this Humanity
You see me as an infection
Killing us off, openly without question
I'll reincarnate Black again, But Panther...  

Shall I stand for this injustice
Even superhumans can be shot dead..
Ask the symbols MLK, and X
How do we unify our people
The people will never look colorless
Dying from the silent growing masses...

Outrageous oppositions ostracizing organized optimist outreach.
Taking time to think that's trail
Hearing hurtful harm, Hard heading home
Everyone experiences earth's eerie evil effects  
Reaching ramifications revolving round recent Revolts
Some Stay Silent, Some Shout Supercilious

Teach us How to Sit In
Stamp me with a Bobby Seale
Certify me to be a Leader
Protect me with Urban Newton's Laws
Let my fist again mean Power!!
May my tongue Gather the masses!!

Will you wait until its you..
Locked down behind their Military's Blockades
They already see you as animal..
Show your fangs Bare your Pride..
They need no reason, Give one!!
Make them fear beyond their thoughts...

I am the soul of America
We are the Backbone of Liberty    
The land that grows your fruits
Our Blood runs through every root
We taught you how to survive
Without Color you are only European....
 Jul 2014 John
Quentin Briscoe
We Find beauty in the ***** things...
the dirt beneath my finger tips.....
The black of my soles...
These scares against my skin..
These burns around my soul...
I've unwillingly given myself to many
countless times
I've used needles
To find that place over the rainbow
Where is the sun...
As I lay in this pit of Quick sand
nose above land
I breath with rocks against my chest...
Yet I survive!
Beauty in this ***** thing
Is not the appearance I put forth
but the story I left behind....
 Jan 2014 John
Sia Jane
Diagnosis: Anorexia Nervosa
Status: Recovered.

So my point in writing... am I doing this for myself? Maybe... or to inspire others? Maybe...
Or to simply just show and say, that I am through this. Through what? Through all that growth that you encounter when you truly engage yourself in recovery.
This does not mean I will not grow further, learn more. Develop and engage. It doesn’t mean I have been able to shut the door once and for all on my mental health struggles (I was trying to be as politically correct towards myself using that term).
It means, I trust, I believe, and not naively, that I have done the hard work.
I have stepped outside of the mirror.
I no longer believe I can only live half way, a half life, between sickness and wellness.
It means, I know, I will never, get sick again.
Many may laugh, or shake their heads at that. And yet, what I am writing here is filled with so much faith and trust, that I can be sure of myself. Even if no one else in the world believes it, I do. And I know it, because I have made a choice.
There were some backwards and forwards, to relapses and re-growths, but each and every fall, I chose to learn. I chose to take to therapy. I chose.
I choose life.  And so that means, the commitment to life, to myself, that I will always take the route that leads to more life, or to more hope...


And so getting well. What happened there? Well, after years of self abuse, of anger turned inwards, after trying to destroy myself in every single way possible... I wondered, inquisitively, what would happen if I used all I had learnt in hospital, all the positive energy directed at me, the words my therapist would say to me... I wondered, what if?
That if, turned out to be the most amazing curiosity. It is why I am safe, well, “recovered.” I don’t use the term recovered lightly. I recognise that my whole life will mean being mindful, it will mean self awareness, it will mean vulnerability. But what I am certain of, is that each year that passes, I grow and gain strength in ways I never realised I could.
I use “recovered” because I don’t believe I am “in recovery.” I have done the recovery. I have done the putting food in my mouth, consulting a nutritionist, the ridiculous amount of weight gain that allowed me to be healthy. I am done with the depression, the endless anxiety, the self harm.
I say “recovered” because as Marya Hornbacher writes: “I mean flat-out eat-normally stay-healthy get-comfortable-with-your-body-and-actually-like-it recovery.”
Few believe it exists. In fact, I was told my numerous doctors I would never recover. I would always be chronic. Sick. In need of hospital.
It exists. I know that. Because it exists for me.
Recovering has meant finding a voice, and using it. It means putting food in my mouth, it means seeing friends, engaging in life, seeking out healthy ways of coping when I feel overwhelmed, scared, anxious...


I live.

© Sia Jane
I wrote this 4 years ago, for EDAW (Eating Disorder Awareness Week) It is heavily edited, in that I have chopped two pieces which felt the most important from the rest of the story. Other than that it remains untouched. I hope this can help carry us into February and continue to raise awareness.
 Jan 2014 John
Irving MacPherson
Take a carny ride
at high noon,
or in a midnight sky
under a crescent moon.
You can hear
the moonlight say
that the night is a good deal,
while the night says,
the moon knows that we are here
to pack a wallop.
But the Stars ignore
the Moon's stolen light,
knowing that they
will soon be dust..
while they spend
wistfully useless hours.
wondering if
the only reason
Time exists
is so that
everything
doesn't happen at once.
Then, all at once,
they were able
to leave
well enough alone.



end © 2013
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