the wires are humming again
she's covering her ears
while eyes flicker
and breath quickens
she asked me to help her **** the parts that hung off her like the tails of ghosts that she claims trace the hallways
she tried to cut out the hardware that embedded itself in her skin
I could hear the metal hitting the floor as I lay asleep
but when I awoke she claimed it was only the bugs dancing in the night
they knocked over the candles and that blew out the light
I used to believe everything she said when she used to talk about how the sky was every color
she said she could see them in my eyes
my eyes are darker than night now
the sun lives downstairs
but he rarely comes to check on us anymore

I don't mind

I want to blame you
and remain blameless
because it’s easier to hurt
than be confused or
lost in your reflection
like the tide without a moon
brings shorter days and
darker nights.

we face the wild
shore alone.

©Ben Ditmars 2014

After the first
Never again
The second
The same,
Regret, pain
The third
Disappointment, shame
The fourth
A piece of paper with a name
The fifth and I’m officially insane
Confusing clouds, constant rain
Begin to drain
Me

Thoughts, a fact
A pact
To myself
My rapidly deteriorating
Physical, mental, emotional health

31 tablets, 52
What difference does
A few
More make
Another mistake
I break,
Crack, smash
Like China
A million pieces
Despair fills the air
I lay, unconscious
Without a care
In the world

Sleeping tablets
And anti depressants
Desperately searching
For the essence
Of a hopeful soul

Hospitalisation
Anticipation, frustration,
Sedation
A safe place
With locks on the inside
Reflecting on the times
I’ve tried
Cried, lied
To break free

After the first
Never again
The second
The same
Regret, pain
The third
Disappointment, shame
The fourth
A piece of paper with a name
The fifth
And I’m officially insane

It stops here
Succumbed with fear
As I walk, tread, carefully
Undress the mess,
That is me.

2010 ©

it was sunday night when you broke
the silence by asking me what i was
thinking about, and i admitted that
i was thinking about the rain before
leaning my cheek on my palm and
turning my head towards you, and
i asked you what you were thinking
about,

and it was quiet, and you unbuckled
your seatbelt and shifted your body
and admitted that you were thinking
about me, and when i leaned over the
console and placed my hands on your
neck; when you pressed your forehead
against mine without smiling; when we
just stared at each other and you silently
told me that maybe we really weren't
just friends,

i was thinking about you, too