It starts so simply; a flush of heat to the head, an unforgiving reverberation in the ears, pounding like drums until I can hear the foundation of my brain begin to crack.

Then, just like that – it all goes black

And it’s like I had never been well and happiness was just a dream. Normalcy; what is that? I don’t remember now.

I haven't see sky for weeks
haven't felt the sun kiss my skin
or smelled the sweet summer grass

I miss my blue skies
and even more - I miss the stars
puncturing the sky so black
like little rips in the seam

I used to really live
but now,
I am just a non-person-
scaling the verge of death

I am desperate
for a break
for a way out
of my current existence
my cynically cyclical day-to-day

I dream of you
and the road
stretching out as far as the eye can see
nothing but skies for miles
I long to be there -
nowhere
anywhere but here

Do you know why the caged bird sings?
I do -
She sings because that is her only joy
wings clipped -
she can no longer fly
locked inside of her one foot space
close to the window
able to see
but never to experience
she sings because that is all she has left
her only gift -
her last effort towards a cold dark world
that cannot support her
that will not let her fly

I guess I shouldn't be surprised
shouldn't feel jolted,
or be standing here still - with shaking hands
It's been six years;
I knew somewhere deep,
down inside of myself
that this was coming

Does she know me?
Does she know anything at all?
I'm sure she doesn't - why would she?
You don't know me either;
never got the chance
you can't know someone - who pretends to be someone else
someone who lives in a world that they made up
inside of their own head
the kind of girl,
who believes her own lies

I remember how you left me
Do you?
Challenging my spirit
my experience
my very existence -
because you knew god better
than the girl who lived so close to death

Does your new bride know;
how you turned your back,
and left me behind
to clean up the mess you made?
to bury the dead alone
repressed so deep -
that it took years to dig up

No,
I'm sure she doesn't know at all.

It speaks to me,
comes in waves
following the moon

I can't always hear the words
but I know the voices
and I understand their meaning

There are different parts,
of depression
many different factors making one whole
one powerful,
clear truth

It speaks to me,
assuring me that it will always be there
as consistent as the rain
more inconsistent than the storm

I try to protect myself from it,
withdraw from the world
pull the covers up over my head
hibernate for the winter

but the madness just gets more clever
and my mind will always outsmart me
lingering in the dark,
with one hand outstretched
inviting me in with the poisonous apple
I will always fall for the trick
take a bite,
and let it take me down

I'm losing my ability to speak
soon, no one will be able to understand me
i'll be speaking gibberish
using slang that no one can place
reinventing english
until language is my own

I use the same words
but they never have the same meaning
I speak in circles until my head buzzes
and my mouth is too tired to move

I am a mute
and a soundbox
an animal -- only one of my kind
unable to communicate
with a single living soul