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Patrick McCombs Feb 2018
Nobody is behind me.
Nobody is behind me.
Nobody is behind me.
I double check
I feel my muscles relax
Giving into it
The pressure is rerouted
The valve is momentarily relieved
Patrick McCombs Oct 2017
You know you’re depressed when you watch an ad for depression medication and think hey that sounds like me
You know you’re depressed when sweatpants make up a large portion of your wardrobe
You know you’re depressed when people tell you just to try harder or to just be happy
You know you’re depressed when you take naps all the time just because it's easier than being awake
You know you’re depressed if you cry at episodes of Star Trek The Next Generation
You know you’re depressed when you have to pretend to be excited
You know you’re depressed when you feel overwhelmed and you haven’t done anything that day
You know you’re depressed when it’s 3am
You know you’re depressed if people know and keep trying to interact with you
You know you’re depressed if you have chemical imbalance in your brain
You know you’re depressed when you can’t bother to make actual dinner so you just eat oreos and call it a day
You know you’re depressed when netflix asks if you’re still watching
You know you’re depressed when your friends call and you don’t respond
You know you’re depressed when you just want to stop
Patrick McCombs Feb 2017
Two people talking on the train
Thunderous overwhelming roar of motion
Drowning out all sound
As if someone put them on mute
****** expressions and hand gestures remain
The bare bones of the conversational garnish.
Before cell phones or headphones
Were there more conversations
Or were they sardines trapped in deadly silence
Hanging over them like a toxic gas.
When the Train is filled to the brim
Almost bursting and spilling out  
And it just stops in the middle of the tracks.
A sudden silence and a stillness
Without the rhythm and motion of the train
you realize that you're standing mere inches away
From at least four different people.
There's a audible sigh and curses because
Everyone on the train is trying to get somewhere.
Patrick McCombs Feb 2017
There's something lost in translation
Something lost from mind to paper
Where the most precise words fail
From paper to other discerning eyes
Where the words are no longer yours
Intentions are stolen and melted down
Forged into weapons, new and beautiful
Things you never intended to create
Patrick McCombs Jan 2017
You’re a thought half remembered
Finer details seeping and slipping though
The cracks of memory
Never solid, always fleeting

Filling in the gaps
With leaps of logic
Painting in the blanks
With complementary shades

The past never dies
The corpse is repacked
Airbrushed and glossed
So it isn't so hard to look at
Patrick McCombs Dec 2016
Disappointment washed over your face
Radiating off of you in waves
Creating ravaging riptides
Dragging me down into depths
Unknown and unexplored
Patrick McCombs Nov 2016
Poets are assassins
Words wound and ****
Cut open arteries
Spilling life blood
Sharpening and refining words  
Honing them to a killing edge

Poets are sorcerers
Words; their incantation
Grammar; their arcane ritual
Sentences turn into spells
Transforming you into someone else
Teleporting you to a distant place

Few poets are prophets
Gifted and cursed with visions
Vessels to be filled
Conduits waiting for lightning to strike

Poets are codebreakers
Deciphering life's enigmas
Translating experiences into words
Skilled technicians
Finding the right words
For exactly the right moments
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