When I was small
I needed nightlights
in the farmhouse by the swamp.

Shadows gathered in corners
like animals without names.

Before the move
I stood in the field at night,
no outline of trees,

the sky clouded,
air held still by heat,
depthless black before me.

Later, streetlamps
cut alleys into squares,
windows spilling yellow

from kitchens and bedrooms,
a neon sign dripping red
onto wet asphalt,

engines keeping the day alive.
Not dark.
Thin. Unfinished.

What I knew as a boy-
dark was company.
It held me,

steady as the breath
in my ribs.
Older now,

I long for that silence.
I have grown
so unafraid
of the dark.

I am destined
For evil and for greatness
I'm not sure which one yet.

I desire to
Look fear in the eye
And say "I'm not done with you yet."
But my dear this is not a war. It's a dance
A push with your constant pull.
And when I finally heave you into my embrace,
It will be my face turned up to the sun.

Have you ever been happy?
Been so happy it was blinding?

Have you ever wanted to die?

I am terrified of being low again
because maybe the next time I hit the ground
it will **** me in and I will never
get to see the light again.

I am terrified of imagining blades on my wrists.
I am terrified of the black sluggishness in my brain.
I am terrified of the stitched smiles upon my face.
I am terrified of hopelessness and shame.

I don’t want to be low ever again.
I don’t want to live through that pain ever again.

I want to live.
I need to want to live.
I need to see life as blindingly white.
But I see the feeling fade away before my eyes,
and I can only reach for it with lanky arms;
my fingers gracing the reflection of something
that was long ago solid but somehow melted,
vaporised, disappeared.
And I will be forever too weak
to do anything about it but learn to miss
a happiness I began to mourn the day it arrived.
I can only watch as my reasons to live go away
in a hope that my mind will not conjure up
a new list, but for the reasons to forever stop this pain.

Anxiety is not my enemy
She is my safety
Changed from years of turmoil.
She should have been held
And addressed properly
But she was pushed down and suppressed instead.
Anxiety is not my enemy
She is love trying to offer the protection that she never received
She is my safety betrayed.

Sorrow is not my enemy
He is my hurt
Turned inwards
Shoved aside and ignored
When his hands should have been taken
While he was told that it's okay to feel grief.
Sorrow is not my enemy.
He is my heart trying to recover from being trampled on.

Depression is not my enemy
He is my Self-awareness
Putting up decorations
That are loud and bright
Because no one noticed them last time.
He should have been seen
And hugged
And told that it's okay to not be okay.
Depression is not my enemy.
He is my soul attempting to remind me that my sorrow is real.

Anger is not my enemy
He is all of my nerves
Cut and bruised from hands and blades
That I never saw coming.
He should have been washed and bandaged
But instead, salt was poured into the wound.
Anger is not my enemy.
He is my throbbing skin trying to tell me that I've still got wounds that haven't scabbed over quite yet.

Fear is not my enemy.
He is my mind
Folded over on itself
Refusing to trust
Huddled in a corner
Because he could not trust the ones he should have been able to.
He should have been helped,
But he was ignored instead.
Fear is not my enemy.
He is the caution that I felt that everyone ignored–including me.

Trauma is not my enemy
She is a little girl
Screaming for help
Because no one listened to her before.
She should have been heard
And dealt with gently
Trauma is not my enemy.
She is the part of me that never truly healed. She is the part that no one ever listened to.
But I'm listening now.

And I am not my enemy.

Moonlight’s bright tonight.
Let’s go outside and play
In the streets of the city.
Morning’s far away.

We’ll dance in the streets,
Race under the stars,
Staring into the eyes
Of oncoming cars.

They’ll tell us their wisdom
In archetypical style
Of the roles that we play
And if we survive.

The dogs of the city,
They howl and they fight,
Then fortune they share
For our hungry delight.

When morning comes early
With its fresh silken dreams,
We shake off the dust
Of what we have seen.

We’ll feel the warm sun
Wake our guarded souls,
To feed us again
As we make our way home.

Our lives have been spent
Living other’s requests.
Now is the time
For our own conquests.

The streets of the city
Are daring and sheer.
Come with me now.
Experience no fear.

When I feel trapped on the land,
I’m looking for anyone to lend a hand.
They’re just too scared of me,
knowing that I belong back in the sea.
I struggle, thrash and flop with all my might;
a shark on land doesn’t feel quite right,
and I can’t win this fight.

I’ve got no qualms with man,
but trapped on shore was not my plan.
Whatever will be will be,
but can’t someone roll me back into the sea?

They’ve seen great whites and nurse,
but whatever class I am I’ve got it worse.
I walk but they know I’d rather swim,
I happened upon shore on just a whim.
Drying out from my nose to tail,
can’t they see I’m not threat, I’ve gotten frail?
They’re so scared they’re turning pale.

I’ve got no qualms with man,
just wish one would stop me from getting a tan.
If I could speak I would plea,
“can’t someone roll me back into the sea?”

Barely moving, but still giving it my best,
I count the phones documenting my distress.
They look on caught almost in a trance,
mistaking my movement for some type of dance.
But they’re just too scared of me,
even though I’m struggling to breathe,
hear how I huff and heave?

I’ve got no qualms with man,
no issue with their ways or lifespan.
I wish they felt the same for me,
so can’t someone roll me back into the sea?