A limited remedy, closed, underneath an iron grip,

a stolen moment, reaching out, distracted by the swaying of your hips.

Embrace me, swallow down each simple regret,

peeling back layer and layer, a reminder to forgive, but never ******* forget.

Hold still, a steady shaking, a tremble barely there on your lips,

this ship has sailed, steady blowing, wind buried to our backs,

you make up the terrible portions of me that I’ve always lacked.

Trip - slip, and dip into forever, a stream that lends itself to pleasure,

acquire happiness, somehow, each day alive somehow a valid measure.

“Living the dream,” you scream, as you die every sleep,

“Tomorrow will be different,” you plead, convincing yourself that you care.

Arise each afternoon, the day you’ve slept away,

cuts and curses of life fall into your lap, as if there’s any other way.

A yawn comes at the most precarious time, the moment you needed to hear the most,

blocking out each “make-believe” try, lost like sand to the coast.

I’ve lost the will to change, each do-over and try again, just ends the same,

you snap your head at the slightest sound, like anyone truly knows your name.

A shallow grave filled with wasted compliments,

drowning slowly in wave after wave of “pick me ups”.

Toss a coin and send me on my way,

begging time for another re-do, a way to un-ring the bell,

watch my hope sink to the bottom of a moldy wishing well.

Depression looms like the moon on a cloudy night,

visible, yet subdued, reminding us of our plight.

Knocking once, a temptress to make sure that you’re alone,

there’s force behind the kick applied to the door of the home.

Now it’s here. It’s in. A permanent resting place,

foolish enough to believe each smile plastered to our face.

Bury the hatchet, try to lock the door as it convinces you to unlatch it.

You’re me now. An identity set in stone that makes us no longer who we used to be.

There’s a place for you to pace, but it exists over there,

smile fading, face changing, “I like living in the head underneath your hair.”

The bonus of insomnia is that the nightmares stay at bay,

close your eyes, empty into forever, living in unhappy can’t be the only way.

I pick apart rust from the thoughts formed in this vat of mine,

A decision eats away agony, keeping my  positivity in line.

Brittle hair and cracked skin,

begging for the cry of clouds like a dozen wilted signs of love discarded on a front porch in a pile of disgrace left to die in the sun.

Hard features purposely pushed together with the thought that opposition means perfection,

like misguided missiles with coordinates of ultimate destruction.

Words of warmth, comforting, until they get too close and burn a home in a heart,

the slime of a savior covers your features,

crawling invisible over your essence like a thousand hungry creatures.

A crooked smile blocks the odor of death and decay, which you only tend to notice with every word that I say.

Crossed eyes and a “too long finger” which I used to blot out my heart,

a special part of my brain threw it in from the start.

Embrace each difference, a small arms width away from the great divide,

unavailable, a slipping secret, unreachable like yours arm touching my side.

Pale design, an ego inflated to the size of a thimble,

cold shoulder, each step a stumble as I cross the line, ever so simple.

Encourage each episode, every ending eats everyone’s eulogy.

A static design, pleased as punch at what is yet less than divine,

Finish each chapter stronger, I am yours, and now you are mine.

Depression lies.

Sitting there like a crouched creature, trapping the beast inside,

depression lies.

“You’re unremarkable, not desired, an adjunct failure,” it cries.

Depression lies.

Moving slowly, bellowing, sluggish through a swamp of self-defeat.

Depression lies.

It lies, like an unlit hearthstone at the bottom of the deepest, darkest dungeon.

Cold, unloving and chalking each success up as an “accident”,

depression lies.

It bares its soul at the foot of each wrong decision, eating energy away until you’ve withered into nothing,

Depression lies.

It showers us with doubt, like we shower the shower in tears of self-defeat, letting water separate our scars from what we are.

Depression lies.

It has a hold on the mold that pieces pictures of my life together,

bringing comfort in the form of the end, deciding for you that you don’t need a “friend.”

Depression lies,

and I hate it for that.

Pick apart a smile and fold it into forever,
sneaking suspicion, that sly smile behind your lips, so clever.
Invisible lines exist just to be double crossed,
truth hiding there behind an amnesia soaked rag.
******* form a half dressed dancer,
broken trust eating away each decision like a cancer.
Memories struggle, yet finally fade, while each precious scar remains,
whispered wisdom remedied by familiarity,
each color of Fall, a brutal escape from reality,
each stumble, a deep breath as I sink further, emotionless undersea.
Taking suffocating strides, punish the weak, bless the wicked,
push through the waves, drowning in courage liquid.
Treat each as your own, shock as you reap what you sown.
Plant doubt, reverse pain in the form of thought,
don’t trust what you feel, follow through with what you’re taught.
Tease and trust, fall face first into love,
preaching poison you are a prisoner to your mind,
located deep in your heart, a cure that you’ll never find.

I’ve made a habit of lying to myself,
Mirror staring back, a thousand shards of glass,

each piece reflecting the choices of my past,
reach for the broken, the mused and busted bottle from the top shelf.

I cut myself deep, compassion missing, no slack,
a neediness, a quick fix remedy in ways where we lack.

A permanent sleep comes but none too soon,
you’re a perfect mistake, like a blinding sunlight in the early afternoon.

Use your hand to trace a place along my face, a perfect resting space.

A silent protector, shield in hand, standing guard,
empty out our love, embrace depleted energy, it can’t be that hard.

There’s a need to feel wanted, and wishful stories to share,
don’t loosen your grip on this heart, the hands are there to care.

A handful of flowers, carefully placed in ***** water,
each day dying as they wonder what is the matter.

I long for views, pictured, perfect and painted,
what we have: love, longing and laughter,

encase our desire in each other we’re all that matters,
Short are the days missing the wicked, the sharp and tattered.

Goodnight, for now, as darkness removes the tainted.

Blossom and bloom, dissolved irrational fears of impending doom.
Your soft touch, an anchor doing nothing but holding me back,
proving to be too much.

Your sweet words, twisted and weaving through the splinters of my soul,
each pull and tug reinforcing and taking hold.

Handfuls of memories tucked neatly in a bag, ***** brown,
the word “recycled” sown into the seams,

It’s then placed in a cupboard, neatly, to remind me of the hate for the oncoming weeks.

There’s a hidden realization pacing forth and back,
it rears its ugly head at the first drop of hesitation.

Melt me down before we finish another thousand miles,
tear away each stepping stone we’ve built, trust built on trials.

You are an array of sunshine, rays bright and blinding,

Rose petals, dark and dying,

pressed between finished oak, a memento to prove that we’re trying.

Smile through pain, situational heartbreak,
conditional grief settles in as minds warp at the thought of how much more it can take.

Smile more, inviting a strangers whisper and a deathless flight,
pitch perfect lullaby, eyes closed on the brink of forever,

mismatched remarks that prove we’ve given up on this life.
Hold me close again, like a hollow promise that changes nothing,

A point of no return that should rectify or lead to something.