I write along the walls of my mind.

I'm going insane? I don't know. Why?

Depression grips tight in a strangling hold.

I'd rather die young than see me get old.

Working my bones eight hours a day;
far too much stress for too little pay.

Real life doesn't rhyme or ebb or flow.

Work never stops and the clock goes tick-tock.

I'll look in the mirror, what do I see?

Old eyes. Sun-scarred misery.

I've got nothing to show for myself. Sure, there are some diplomas up on a shelf—

And far too many stories I have yet to think about:

Get them out of my brain and onto the page; I'll fall into a rage sooner or later.

These thoughts of violence and nonsensical anxieties race around and around in my head. A wheel that never stops. Oh, pure OCD.

Pure. A shot of water that I swallow down and pretend that it's *****.

No, mother, I'm not alright and it's about time that you stop telling me to try harder.

I can't pull my bootstraps up any higher or else I may strangle myself with them!

This is my last breath before drowning.

Oh, dear friend, if I don't find my salvation soon, I'll hit the bottom of the swimming pool.

I make me crazy, and I was never taught how to swim.

Me dicen que no existen.
Me dicen que no están,
que solo en mi mente
los puedo encontrar.

Si quisiera,
la tortura podría acabar.
Intento escapar
de esta cárcel mental,
mas la llave no logro encontrar.

Me dicen que está ahí,
que solo lo debo pensar.
Pero son mis demonios
y son mis cadenas
y esta es mi condena.

No logro salir,
no logro volar,
solo quiero escapar.
Me dicen que no tema,
que no escape de lo que no está.

Yo soy el problema.
Soy la víctima y el criminal.
No escuchan, no esperan,
no saben, ni intentan.

Pero no soy yo,
son mis demonios
y son mis cadenas
y esta es mi simple condena.

A gap within my minds brigade
is the price, solemnly payed
weak- the bold brain's barricade

a barricade assumed concrete,
proven otherwise as I repeat
irrational- my slow defeat

Compelled am I, a victim to
intrusive thoughts I can't subdue,
to cease them truly, I've no clue

But I've a hunch that if I end,
consumption, and myself defend,
longer no more I'll haft pretend

No one can function at this pace
I wish always my steps retrace
back to run a different race
to end in a much different place.

you tapped my shoulder
and whispered in my ear

"thats wrong. fix it"

my gaze followed
your long, boney finger
down to the skewed papers
on the desk next to mine

i simply shook my head and answered with
"no, thats not mine to touch"

i started to ignore
your fervent tapping and whispering
but it moved up
to screaming and shaking my body
i couldnt hold myself back any longer

i quickly grabbed the papers
and filed them
making sure they were neat
before setting them back down

you were happy
it was casual
it was normal

so i started to
live by your rules
letting your gentle taps and whispers
tell me what to do

i would fold my gym clothes
in the same order every day
i would sanitize my hands
before and after every single class
i would fix peoples binders, paper, and pencils
just to please you

then it changed

others started to laugh
mess up the clothes i neatly folded
push my papers out of order
hold me back
as they made everything crooked
watching me struggle against their hands
as i tried to break free
to fix it all

you were screaming
telling me how those fingertips
were touching my body
infecting me

you were violently shaking me
saying how wrong the mess was
that i had to fix it

fix it
fix  it
fix it

i still do as you say
abide by your rules
the laughing and taunting
has disappeared now
as i freely fix my things

theres the occasional question and statement
"why dont you just leave it?"
"it isnt that important"
"the mess wont affect you"

none of them know
of you looming behind me
a strict ruler of my mind
telling me they were wrong

no
none of them will know
they wouldnt never understand
how important your pure touches and words are
to the filthy, messy place
that is my mind

I always loved that movie,
Particularly the part
When he asks her
Why the city has no walls
And therefore how can it shield itself?
She answers readily by explaining to him
That most of the dangers
The city will ever face
Come from the inside.
It is the same sort of dangers
I feel a safety from
While in your arms.
Inside of the fold of your arms
I find safety.
Not from any outside threat
That may be lurking,
But a quiet safety from the constant war
Inside of my own mind.
When I am within your arms
The war grows calm and silent,
In a way it never does.
The feeling like I can never catch a breath
Disappears at the touch of your hand,
And for once I can breathe.
Inside of your arms,
I can do what should come naturally,
But I can never seem to accomplish.
I can breathe.
I can breathe.
With you
I can just be.

when i was little,
i cried because i wanted It.

It being the crisp sound of fulfillment
that keeps the black hole in the middle of my body quite.
i wanted, i needed It.
sometimes the black hole
would turn red as lava
and it would feel like a volcano
wanting to erupt
but the thing is,
it doesn't have anything to force out.
and i do not like the feeling.

i woke up today
and my mind was a shade of blue.
i don't quite remember
drinking 10 bottles of anesthesia
to feel this pale.
every crack on the pavement
looks like a long razorblade
that would cut my foot if i step on it.
here comes the habit of right first then left,
counting the leaves of my neighbor's bush,
and the amount of C's i swallow
because everything should be even.
2,4,6,8
only that to relieve the ache
because you are what you eat
and who wants to be odd?

there in my bed,
i wonder if the rain is infused with anesthetics
and the black hole erupting
is the only pain i am feeling.
and i like the feeling.

now im older,
i cried because i do not want It.

It's hard to get along
In life when Depression's
Hold on me is so strong.
Holding me under and
Causing me to drown
In my own thoughts of
Worthlessness, shame,
Pain, harm, death, sadness.
They're overwhelming.
I can't sleep, can't breathe;
It's begun to affect
My relationships;
It's hurt me more times
Than I can count.
It causes other conditions
Like anxiety and OCD;
Which in turn causes
My Dermotillomania
And over-analyzing
Ways of thinking.
I'm so tired of it.
I just want to sleep forever;
Lay in his arms
And just fly away into
A beautiful dream for
All of eternity.
Please, I'm so tired.
Please, I beg you,
Let me have peace and rest.
*I'm...
So....
Tired....