symptoms of anhedonia.
a triumvirate, perceived
Inanition& Inertia& Inaptitude:
they are ugly triplets who hide under leather
and self-loathing &stink of last night’s pinot
from fuck knows where.
their fingers, cigarette-stained and calloused,
reach into my prozac pillboxes
&crunch my anxiety (meds)
into fluoxetine powder and ivory between
their yellowing teeth.
I Do Not Cry When The
For He Sits At midnight:the witching hour,whenthe
My Porch Bearing Sweet siblings curl up besides me to
Dreams &Sister Death, Whose Touch , ravage;
I’ve Long Wished For they will not
perfume of Death
is scrubbed clean fromthe
There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing There is nothing for you here.
Nothing will bring me back. In three years time I’ll still be dead. My bed sheet is my shroud and Death holds my wrists in a vice grip. He still leads me below.
here is the untruth:
i am here,
Penelope at her loom,
waiting for a lost lover whom I know
will take ten years to come back to
my awaiting arms.
here is the untruth:
in three years time,
I’ll still be dead.
here is the truth:
nothing exists six feet under except:
The lights went out
And never came back
Left my earthly husk
Through the lips
The whiskey spoke
And it sounded nice
Easy party trick
Into your medicine cabinet
And saw my face
In the bathroom mirror
Like red feathers
To the overclocked veins
In my neck
Carrying steam and spirit
On my smoke-drenched skin
A humming sound
Outside the ivory door
My frenzied grin
And we'll stare at each other
Until we become familiar
Or fall upon the sword
remembered my meds;
didn't clear my head.
still thinking of you,
tempted by the blue
overdose by one or two
hundred, something to do.
maybe the pink;
she'll make me think
of nothing at all,
be as blank as a wall,
still as a statue and twice as calm
as i used to feel tracing hurt on my arm.
you had me in large chunks
and at some points, you had me whole
i had you in crumbs
and at some points, i had you in pieces and it wasn't fair
that's part of why i had to run away
you knew me too well and all i knew of you were the tiny, sad parts
but eventually i realized that she probably knew these parts, too
and i didn't feel like i knew you at all anymore
and still, i wonder
do they know what i know?
do they know about the bullets you held so close to your skull?
or about the xanax you would lay on your tongue when the sky was starry and your blankets were wrapped around your shaking body?
or about how you are so scared of people being behind you that you shake like a puppy and sweat beads up on your freckled neck?
does she know that?
i’m faster than the wind when the meds don’t work
and that’s when you say you love me with soft words like honey
you like the neon lights in my eyes and i love your tear-stained eyeliner
you said you were intoxicated by my danger, you said we were invincible
i’m bright eyes and bad ideas, I’m toxic waste with a lipstick smile
i’m a bottle of vodka, bloody knuckles, bare feet in the snow
there’s no sleep, just a restless head and electric eyes
it’s not poetic when it’s your life
and it’s time you saw that
I’m down again soon and it’s sad, i guess
im the boy with scars on his hips and a past he’s hidden
I’m the boy with shaking hands and blood smeared on his mouth
you don’t see the light anymore, you said the flames went out
the pills i swallow are too much for you, just like i am
i’ve never been invincible, just untouchable
there’s nothing beautiful about it
you should run, baby
they always do
i think our love was ill-fated
you’ve got his hands in yours and you don’t miss mine
you said soulmates never died and our love couldn’t expire
the signs were clear, but we never read the warning labels
maybe it’s how i flinched at your touch and my inability to trust
or how you never heard me when i spoke
i’m a live wire and you’re a swimming pool.
i should have seen this coming
this is how it always ends
I spend much of my life
within the confines of my mind
Some days I am unsure
Whether I am dead or Alive
But the medication that I cling to
removes the existential fear
and allows my thoughts to relax
yet, it also seems to suppress my wonder
Without the pills,
I can intently watch myself write
As each stroke of my small wrist
Leaves grey stains across the blank page
With them, I can feel happiness
I can detach myself from life's pain
and realize my distractions
instead of permitting them to anchor my heart
But with my medicine I cannot create
not in the ways I wish to
They build a border between substance and surface
while it blocks out the depression
it also limits my humanity
Yet, if I were to quit taking them
the darkness would return to haunt my world
strangling my limbs, until I have no will to fight
or even to move for that matter
Without them, I can expend myself
in this art that has kept my heart beating
My emotions can freely guide my movements
in the hopes of creating something beautiful
But those pills have also saved my life
and yet, they have a dark side too
The anxiety they breed produce
such a significant strain on my actions
that I can't tell if I'm truly living
So as I sit in this barren hallway
listening to the echoes that disrupt the silence
I wonder whether my temporary refrain from my "lifelines"
will lead to my success or my demise.