the flowers that bloom
at the site of this burial
are not a marker
nor memory of
what lies beneath;
they are the reminder
that there will always
be this burst of
colour and beauty
to be cherished
in spite of
what those roots
have grown through

If there’s one thing for sure abt myself. ,
I’m going to survive  ,
I will figure it out

You sit in your chair, calm and collected.
Betraying no emotion or nerves
You're a rock of composure
But i see the tell tale trembling in your hands
You clutch the threads of your worn pants in a vice grip
Trying to hold back the creeping tide of tremors
You lock your knees together in desperation
Grit your teeth and clench your jaw
But more and more, the cracks spread through your body
And once again, the demons of anxiety run amok in your body
Slamming the chambers of your heart with their thorny fists,
Freezing your lungs with their icy breath
Crowding out all lucid thoughts with their incoherent babble
"Not again, not again, not again"
"please stop, please"
You cry in the shadowed recesses of the your own mind over and over
Hiding from hounding demons
But like always, the demons of anxiety do not heed words
The silent battle is once again lost
Your shame, cowardice and weak spine is laid bare to the eyes and judgment of the world
I know the feeling
I know you
I am you

Your face is lined;
your brows are white.
You’re facing down
your long twilight.
Your tummy has a little bulge--
I see marks of what you
used to indulge.
Your teeth aren’t white;
your hair is thin,
but I believe that you’ve won
the struggle within.
There are bags
underneath your eyes,
but that gaze now is
so much more wise.
You don’t stir my blood--
the blood of youth--
but your words today
speak realms of  truth.
Love is left
when lust is gone,
and this love will last
‘til the world is done.

.. likes tearing people down
with loose talk and harsh words -
Empathy tossed aside
by the misuse of nouns and verbs.
.. a twisted view of society
just bound to be seen and heard -
Everyone, listen quietly
till every harsh word is slurred.
The Queen of the Night Life;
her brokenness - a crown.
Out-spokenness - a sword
that she just loves to swing around.
And me, I'm just a jester;
my struggle - a comedic scene,
but she’s justified by anger
only entitled to the royal queen

If only one,
Could show me the way.

Without toxins
Circling my brain.

Without slurring
Words that I say.

Without praying
For my last day.

Without digging
An awaiting grave.

Without feeling myself
Wither away.

But today is the day,
I put this all at bay.

As I travel to the land
Of safe haven.

That is where I will stay.

I’ve been to the ledge,
looking into an abyss
certain that I
wouldn’t be missed
and even if one person did,
they’d be better off in a world
without me in it.

I’ve seen shadows creeping
while I was almost sleeping
halfway between
waking and a dream,
with a spiderlike scribble
crawling across my blanket
that I couldn’t smash
or even shake off.

I’ve been swept up
in a manic moment,
then began drowning
in an endless pit,
and almost died in it.

So many self-inflicted
near misses, electric,
pill bottle, and razor kisses
but my body insisted
on living when my mind
wanted a quiet end
to the painful buzzing.

Some say it gets better,
and for me it did,
some say all you got to do
is keep trying to live,
some day you will make it.
It’s one struggle at a time.

But sometimes people
go into those dark caverns
and never come back.
It’s not a beautiful death
just a tragic final act.

-2021