"depresses" poems
My confusion troubles me
My wondering depresses me
And my knowledge grows heavily
And the icing on that cake is everything I hate about me
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 5:43 PM UTC
"her writing depresses me" he says
my voice quivers, falls up toward
space and crashes
down
against the sea-salt waves. my voice
s-s-s-stutters, repeats the first
syllable five times and once again
for an even six, repeats, repeats,
repeats. my voice is
quiet and every teacher i've
ever had calls on me with a
"speak up!" but no one ever
listens.
writing is the only voice i've ever known
you will not take that from me.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC
I am not at home.
Home is where you go back to after vacation.
Where you don’t worry about whether to take your shoes off in the entryway.
Where you know that the light switch between you and your parent’s bedroom
doesn’t actually do anything.
Where you know you can leave your ***** dishes on the counter
because somebody will put them in the dishwasher for you.
Where people say, “What are you doing for the holidays?”
And you say, “I’m going home.”
And they say, “Oh, that’s nice,”
and it is.
That’s home.
But I have none of those things.
Sometimes things like that depress me. And then I have this strange urge to tell someone,
just to see if it depresses them too.
It doesn’t have to be someone I care about. It just has to be someone who would listen.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
The moods swing as the seasons change
Cold wind and gloomy nights make awful days
Crickets perish as the seasons change
The buzzing sound dulls away
Sunlight turns to darkness as the seasons change
The once bright sunlight hides far away
My self-esteem dwindles as the seasons change
I question whether I am sane
My mood changes as the seasons change
We intertwine and feel each others pain
My Loneliness deepens as the seasons change
This hollow house comforts my pain
My nature changes as the seasons change
Morbid thoughts shroud my brain
Activity depresses on the bridge as the seasons change
Too bad I chose Winter to accept my fate
Life goes on as the seasons change
With or without me that won’t change
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 12:40 AM UTC
The psychics were breathing smoke,
rummaging through my roommates collection of abstract art,
they told me what my favorite Modest Mouse album was,
they told me about my personality,
I told them I was a psychic,
they told me to **** off.
Everyone assumes an original identity
in the self-inflicted apocalypse
provided by that old friend, alcohol.
Kevin was the smooth-talking,
drink-mixing extraordinaire.
Kara was the cynic.
Shawna was the kindhearted.
Evan was sober.
Tyler was in and out.
I was the ******* that took a party pill,
bounced off everyone with a handshake
and an apology.
We **** ourselves to resurrect,
piece together the discordance,
the chaos,
the girls.
While the psychics were breathing smoke,
while Kevin was collapsing,
while everyone was worried about me,
all I could say was,
"This is the happiest night of my life,
and that depresses the hell outta' me."
I longed for the sirens in the distance,
I took another drink,
I longed for renewed innocence,
I took another drink,
I longed for someone to lay beside me,
I took another drink,
it was finally enough.
I took off my shirt,
made war with the remnants of stability,
of sanity,
told my friends I loved them,
and hoped that my time ended in sync
with the sunrise.
Sep 18, 2010
Sep 18, 2010 at 2:45 PM UTC
Habitually smoking your gear
Drowning your natural drive of energy
So soon, a year becomes a week which lasts towards a
day.
Trying to reach a high you had in your teens
Sitting there watching your life go by
Until you're ******** by marijuana poisoning
According to your friends you don't
Have any
Straight people industrialise their circles
And despatch you into a corner
Where they keep the addicts, tortured and isolated
Within the buzz they experienced a decade
Ago.
Paying a fifty or more on something
That causes you loss of memory and an idle psyche
If you are not going to credit your ****
People will look beyond you
Even when they need you.
You are elsewhere in the invisible car-crash.
The relief of escape
the brave gunja smoking cool Mr Frosty
The idea of talking to someone like you
Has really lost me. He hides his snide profile, behind a ******
I just have a smoke now and then.
It depresses me just enough to be depressed.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 2:40 PM UTC
you're smiling at me
is it pity?
it doesn't quite reach your eyes...
'they feel sorry for you'
you're laughing
is it real?
there is an edge to it...
'they don't find you funny'
you're telling me to be happy
but my voice is comming from your lips
"stop being sad, you're annoying when your sad"
'they want you to leave'
im doubting every expression you make
every word spoken turns against me
the world is no longer welcoming
'they are telling you what you already know'
"YOU DISSAPOINT ME"
"YOU NEVER LEARN"
'do it'
"WE DON"T NEED YOU"
"STOP BEING SAD"
"YOU HAVE NO REASON TO BE SAD"
'do it'
"UGLY"
"FAT"
"STUPID"
"DEPRESSES"
'do it'
"IWILLNEVERLOVEYOUYOUWILLNEVERFITINALONELOOSERWHYCANTYOUJUSTBENORMALWHATISWRONGWITHYOUSTUPIDSTUPIDSTUPIDJUSTGOAWAYWEAREBETTEROFFWITHOUTYOU"
'DO IT'
stop
please
just stop
but the words aren't yours
they're mine
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
The sunrise surprised me awake again
I haven't slept, I just can't
Not while you're in here
Haunting both memory and imagination
I haven't slept
And I'm not really awake
Ambulant slumber, never-ending malady
Love-sickness is the worst of them all
There's no comfort, nothing soothes, nothing satisfies
I must wake
Even though my heart is broken
And everything has stopped for me
The rest of the world won't wait
It will just go on and run me over
At least the colors of the sky
Reflect those of my heart
Grey and blue,
And that saddens me a little more
It's lonesome looking at the sky,
Because it has your colors too.
Grey and blue
And that depresses me a little more
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
You say you love me more
You always doubt my want and need for you
But when a day goes by
Where we can't be with each other
And we don't speak much
It breaks me down
Depresses me
Until the next moment I'm with you
Because that's when I feel security
You're the light in my life
Without you it's dark
You're the pillow I rest my head on
In the middle of the night
Your voice and your touch
Soothes me and stops time
The lonely days make me short of breath
I hate it when you're not by my side
I simply can't live without you
Yet you always question this love of mine
I wish you'd understand
I wish you would believe me
You're everything I want
You're all that matters to me
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 9:35 PM UTC
it drips from the bottle
and into your
mouth
which spouts words
with no regard for my
feelings
that you don't know how to address
without alcohol kissing your
lips
that form sentences
with a mind of their own
uninhibited by their flattery of me when they were
sober.
it agitates your face
as it rests in your
hands
that used to hold mine and it
glazes over your
eyes
that used to light up when they saw me
or when they heard my
name
that you can hardly stand to speak
without alcohol
dancing on your
breath
that doesn't render sounds
without cheap courage summoned
up.
it depresses your
mind
that I used to find intriguing
as it was paradoxically
kind with a quick
wit
that no longer aims
to make me laugh
but is now restrained by the liquor
label
that you plastered to yourself
without concern -
would you even stop
if your own bottle said
please?
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 5:02 AM UTC
It depresses me
that I don't express my emotions
In the pure fear of being judged
Not just by my peers,
But my friends.
I keep my emotions tucked in the internal locket
That beats beneath my flesh,
Each pulse of the withering pendant
Ready to disintegrate with a
Meal of poisonous truths and pocketed emotions.
I keep my emotions tucked away,
Because they have forced me to believe:
Emotions are weakness.
k.h.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
Discontent and boredom battle mightily
To see which owns my addled wit.
Rain streaks down the kitchen windows
Making worm-like shadows on the floor.
The need to move nips at my torpor
And reads my dictionary of excuses
As I stare at crumbs on the tablecloth
And wish I had another biscuit.
What’s gone wrong, I can’t make right.
I’m stuck here with no options
And I don’t care which way it goes;
I’m too busy being grumpy.
There’s a cricket hidden in the hallway
Nine days now and it just won’t die.
The muted chirping stops and starts,
Loud enough to be annoying
But not enough to be a mask and hide
The thunder of my disappointment
When clouds and rain refuse to leave
And I am left with only empty musings.
My hands aren’t pretty any more.
They used to pose so gracefully
But time has bruised and twisted them
And they no longer reach out to be seen.
That’s just another loss to ponder:
Take a number - stand in line.
Everything depresses me, and then...
There’s that ************* cricket!
ljm
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 3:25 PM UTC
The concrete depresses with each small step I take in the Arco parking lot
I fold this song up into my pocket and my schoolwork starts to rot.
Your hair hangs loosely by your eyes as you ration out my shots.
I wanted to remind you that your nails give me goosebumps, but I forgot.
Your legs laced up and shining in oil are sculpted out of bronze
Lying naked in aphids as we strive to be shameless among your father's front lawn
You are sunlight disguised by a sheet on a clothesline
In the middle of meadows made of wheatgrass and starshine
How can something so beautiful share a species with me?
A shopping cart overflowing with grace given away on the streets for free
My jeans are turning into strings of flayed fabric under your yellow moon
I'll shower you in music, if you promise to abuse it, within my crimson room
Lock me in my comfort stall with dividers emitting petroleum fumes
Break down all the walls with your desperate call as your temple, I consume
From within towers where light is devoured, against all odds, I bloom,
For a skeletal mastery with ultraviolet eyes crawls into my tomb.
You are a symphony of epiphanies for a boy made of concrete
In the midst of a city of asphalt and batteries.
You splat on my canvas and blast from my headphones
And if you opened me your name would probably be on my bones.
Keep the covers at bay
So I can admire your frame.
Feb 17, 2011
Feb 17, 2011 at 6:55 PM UTC
It depresses me
To see other couples
Or people hooking up
I don't know why
But it has something to do
With you
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 3:12 AM UTC
Dead bee
The moss grows round it
Water spray
Purify it
Pest is relative
Coming from where?
The cat stretches
Common sense
Rock bottom
Delve deeper, come on
There’s no soul here
Empty it out
Start again
Transcend yourself
Transcend transcendence
So yeah, there was a gardener
Wielding a pressure blaster
Which ripped the moss from its roots
The sun peaked
And the moss turned dust
Because the aesthetics of the pavement
Supersede existence
Who the **** cares?
Dead bee on the pavement
Blast it into the bushes
It depresses the school children
A hedgehog rots in the gutter
Flies lay eggs in its flesh
And create a home
Isn’t that beautiful?
What the **** did the moss get?
“China would have done this in a day”
My father says
Watching road workers rip apart asphalt
“It’s quite nice, though”
Looking into the concrete river
As mayflies hatch deformed
Due to the heat from the channel
Half the students stare at their toes
Wishing they were cuter
Stronger
Smarter
Because narcissism has become the new desire
Things are rotting everywhere
But we pretend they’re normal
**** man, rock bottom
The children pick up the bees
And stick them in their mouths
Until the moss completely coats their hearts
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 11:16 PM UTC
He is Sicilian, skin tawny the color of
toasted garlic
knobby knuckles but strong palms
steady and smooth and graceful
never wavering as he slowly depresses the plunger with his thumb
pushing two clear drops from the syringe
he ran out of dope so he soaked his old cottons
to **** out the residue
and deposit it in his vein
fist clenches twice and holds
and he dips the needle in
so light
so little
then his fingers shimmer away from his palm
and drop to his side
When I was 13 I took a trip to Alaska
my aunt brought me there and we rode on a boat
along the southern coast and through the fjords
One day we saw a glacier calving across the water
so ***** it looked like a cliff, but when a piece fell away
the ice that it revealed was deeply blue
He'd only traveled in the desert
from Austin to Iraq
but one night here
in Duluth, Minnesota
we lay on the roof and watched the Northern Lights
I told him that they were the color of glaciers
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 12:35 AM UTC
intense clear blue eyes you have
i can get so lost in them
black hair just like mine
but mine shines brown in the sun
bitten fingers nails
just like my nails
lips so puffy like a cloud i could sink into them
layer of soft skin
just around your belly
or better said around you're whole body
i love you're skinny legs
that wrap my torso
i love youre red fingers(cause its so cold)
that scratch my head
when i have my whole head planted into youre belly
oh i could keep on going...
And you have a stressful family life
just like me
but i hate to see you teary eyed
my beautiful girl
" it depresses the hell outta me"
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
Even during the darkest of nights,
I am with this thought of my future,
Nothing scares me just enough to stop.
Even during the blackest of days,
I am with the memory of time past,
Nothing depresses me enough to pop.
Even during those hours of blues,
I dispel each of the purples in strait,
Because in being sad, I find just glop.
Jul 6, 2021
Jul 6, 2021 at 8:51 PM UTC
Your contours that mark the sand
Depresses the earth into an outline
You are traces of a man
Hollowed out by the horror of your pain
Oh! Son of man, where is ye shame?
You are bound like an ox to a chain
Your body sways like a pendulum
As you lower and harvest their grain
Chains bind you to your fellow men
So that feet that once ran move now in defeat
They motion as a reminder of your labours
And the bond you have with your captors
Liberty, justice and all that was good
You were made to abandon for a morsel of food
"Yes Master, no Master, three bags full Master"
Baa the woolly sheep bleated in surrender.
Why let the dust of your labours
That fill the air with its derision
Settle willingly on your once dark skin
Mixing your blackness into a confusion
Black is the colour of your conscience
Black was the colour of your rituals
Black feet ran and black hands played
Black babies were the dawn of a new age
You let that slip through your fears
Your memory blurred by ashes
Your brain that incinerated your courage
Condemned you to the life of a savage
Rise up, son of man who fears freedom
Your traces will have no roots
An outline of your existence
Is a hollow grave without its occupant
Don't preach the Bible as your saviour
Unless you have more to offer
Don't mark your history by enslavement
And the heritage you were made to abandon
That chain that links your past
To a future that is bleak
Is a God of eternal bonds
Secured by your hidden Masters
Your children dance in the shadows of your enslavement
Morphing your chains into a cross
A freedom founded on great men and courage
Is short-lived by bitter recriminations
The ghettos, the drugs, the guns and deaths
The rap that is the anthem of your anger
Makes a chain between right hand and left
As your youth disappears forever
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
Sadness is a curse as well as a benevolent splash of water in the face.
You concentrate on every dark thing in the world,
The grayness of the dew drops, the depressing and cold impersonal face of the rolling smoky cloud overhead.
This pushes you back to a memory: A song, perhaps, a family trip maybe, something that depresses you in a way that makes you smile futilely. Futilely in the sense that, you will never write a song like that, you feel like you will never have enough fun as you did on that trip. With this, you grow hatred towards yourself. With this malevolent tempest inside of you as a muse, you inscribe beautiful things into the notebook. With your own blood. Too far. Sadness is a force to be used by the ones in touch with self-control. Please, throw your ****** notebooks away and write in pen. Your poems will look better.
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 6:48 PM UTC
Forgive me, I'm broken, so my words will definitely cut you.
Forgive me, I'm bitter, so my thoughts might provoke you.
I'm still just a shell of who I hope to be. I don't meet your high expectations. Forgive me.
Forgive me, I've become numb, so your harsh, barbed, judgemental words don't infiltrate my being.
Forgive me, I'm unconventional, I'm weird, I'm unattractive so I don't get the love I deserve.
Never letting my guard down and keeping my composure tires me and this depresses me even more . Forgive me.
Forgive me, I'm a pathological liar who over-indulges on mediocrity, fear and feelings.
Forgive me because I'm unforgiving, I remember those who wronged me.
Please forgive me, because I'll never be able to forgive you for turning me into the monster that I am.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
This sadness I feel
It depresses me...
I just don't know anymore...
I don't fake smiles
Everyone can see how I feel...
"Are you tired? What's wrong?"
They'll never understand...
Neither will I..
This empty feeling.
Yet I know there is something inside me
I can feel the pain
It's definitely there, it never left...
It never stops
I wish it would, but it stays...
I just don't know anymore...
Actually, I never really did
And probably never will...
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
Mirrors,
You never notice their magnitude,
Until each glimpse of reflection disgusts you,
Depresses you even,
When you are miserable enough,
To question significance of breathing,
Or why being born to this earth,
Has left you to feel deprived,
When your consciousness tells,
What you believe are lies.
*You are a beautiful person,
Be aware of hidden gems.*
Yet, compliments of being physically appealing are avoided like molten tempers,
Promises of the sweetest nothings,
You know to not take to heart,
After all,
You know what it is that they really want.
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 6:57 PM UTC
my main thought
is maybe i'm just
meant to be alone.
i've been told
that i'm too
independent
and that possibly
i'll never marry
because of this
independence.
and it depresses me
because really why
would you tell a
teenager that.
it's every dream
for a girl to have
a dream wedding
and get married.
and you crushed that
telling me those things
too independent
too much of a *****
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 3:02 PM UTC