Perhaps there are 100,000 forms of darkness,
100,000 forms
of what they call depression.
I know one
or two of them.
There is no suffering scale, no way to compare
the suffering of one
human being,
or one illness
to another.

So we hold candlelight vigils
build totems to gather the universe and pull
back clarity around one another’s edges
But I can't burn sage inside me.
It may attract the bad you hide from. Or
is it the good that scares you?

The world beyond the bond
of hearts is a town
without pity.
A dull inhumanity of systems failing the people
we don’t look at.
In this way the brittle tethers of association are tested.

Hand in hand greeting the blackening sky, bearing
down like the face of a missing child’s parents,
staring at one another
knuckles clasp tight.
Your smile the remaining mirror at the end of the world.

If you were here, or I there
I’d be home right now. On the inside
we’re both waiting for one
another still.
Because I’m the same,
but not.

I am ruthlessly forgetful.
Names, birthdays, work schedules.
But I know the way your hair looks in motion.
The way your face looks
refracted through a cigarette ember.
How when your mood shifts,
the church in your eyes
becomes torn, battered, and bare.

If we could just give
another go-round.
It would be different,

your best.
Where you are, might
be, may go.
When it used to feel so good.
abbey Jun 22
things are shaping up to be pretty
Tharuki Jul 28
And the realisation hit me
you weren't coming back
and suddenly my whole world changed
the sky was always grey and gloomy
and the trees were dying
and the flowers had withered
the stars didn't shine as bright
and the sun was just hiding
the clouds clogged up the sky
like how my thoughts clogged up my mind
and it slowly started to rain a drop at a time
and I blended right into the sadness
and when you were taken
not only did my world change forever
I had changed forever.
duncan Jul 23
it is mid july
and hotter than sin.
some friends and i
drove to the beach
to watch the shore

i drank some gin
and we talked about
television. i laughed
like i would die

when we left
and my feet were
i couldnt help but
remind myself
that i was happy.

and on the drive home
two friends kiss
in the back like
you do when you
think you have it
figured out
and all you want
is the whole world
and its staring back
at you and even smiles
if you kiss it on
the mouth.

and all i could
think about is the boy
i was mean to as
a child and how
he died before i
could ever say
sorry and really
mean it.

i cant help but
twist a knife
if i see one.
Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
It's at the point of desperation that the soul finds its deepest desire,
and in that desire lies everything of which true life is made.
Perhaps the first and central question concerning surrender
ought not to be, “What am I willing to give to God?”
but “What am I willing to receive from Him?”

For it's only in the realization that I have nothing to give Him and
He has everything to give me that true humility and surrender come.
If I would simply receive all He offers me and let Him fill me up
I would have no room in my hands to hold onto anything else.  
But how often it is that we won't receive it until everything else is lost.

It's the secret and inexpressible dreams of the soul
which are the hardest things of all to let go and the last to go.
When they are finally gone we have nothing left to run to but Him,
and when we do we find that He is the beginning,
the end and the center of every secret dream.

Ah, blessed Peniel—that mysterious and holy ground
where heartache collides head-on with romance,
that deep and shadowed land where we struggle
with God and with men and we overcome,
that painful yet glorious place which we may leave limping
with a wrenched hip but we do not care, for we have seen God’s face—
like Jacob, may we not pass you by without being forever changed.
Genesis 32
Next page