low

I made the bed at 3 PM

I haven’t cleaned in weeks

I don’t know what I eat these days

I don’t know if I sleep

My laundry’s piled on my desk

And work litters the floor

I’ve lost the energy to live

But don’t care anymore

The world is pressing through the walls

I can’t get out of bed

I don’t want to be useless, but

I can’t escape my head

A day, a week, a month goes by

It all blurs into one

I fall behind, but guess it’s fine

There’s nothing to be done

Maybe I should worry that

The nightmares have come back

Or that I make myself feel sick

Or my life is not on track

But instead I’m tired

So I think I’ll close my eyes

Maybe when I open them

Everything will look alright.

prompt: depression is…

depression is

waking up more tired

than you fell asleep,

snapping at people

too close on the sidewalks,

fingers caked with mud

and dirty floors

that it would take too

much effort

to clean.

depression is

words like weights

that fall with dull thuds

at my feet, and

quiet music and

being too little

to hold.

depression is forgetting

who you are

and wishing you could

sleep away who

you were

because you’re not sure

if you’ll ever be

anyone

again.

depression is

breaking and

falling and

lying facedown and

wondering what it means

that the world keeps on spinning

and sometimes I forget

that depression is also

getting back up

again.

anxiety

anxiety is this:

a fist to the stomach

an ache in the throat

a twisting of the gut

shaking fingers and the

immovable knowledge

that i am

flawed and hated,

the conviction that

you have never loved

anything that is

me

that is

me

that is

me–

you can run

away but

i cannot.

sorry.

“how’ve you been?”

i don’t really know.

sorry.

“are you doing okay?”

no.

sorry.

“what’ve you been up to?”

worrying, picking my skin,

wishing i were dead,

skipping meals.

sorry.

“are you good?”

not really;

i’m generally a

pretty shitty

person.

sorry.

sorry that i couldn’t be

fine

and that i’m an inconvenience

and a burden.

i just want to

be alright and

instead i’m shutting down.

don’t ask me how i am

because i can’t lie

right now.

friendship

why are your hands cold?

why do you cry?

when you’re a failure,

why do you try?

how do you breathe

when nobody speaks?

why would you look

instead of just leap?

you are worth nothing

you’ve wasted your tears

I will not love you,

but be your worst fear.

scars

purple and white and uneven

lines settle on my hips,

like the birds resting on the wire

across the street.

ashamed, hiding for so long

with the shadows in my head–

I had no idea what

to say to them, to justify, to defend,

but they are just birds

and I am just human

and in the end, does it matter?

I am alive, and I have fought monsters

every day of my life and am still

alive to tell the tale.

and these?

these are just reminders of everything

I have lost and everything

I have become

and so I’m going to do what I damn well please

and wear my battle scars

with pride.

anonymous

is it better to be known

or to be heard?

to be invalidated

or to be honest?

their silence is stifling

so I fill it with words

I never meant

to say;

hide behind a web

of woven lies, a cloak

of disgust and exhaustion–

tonight, I will

sing

myself

to sleep.

human

what does it mean

to be human?

I am cells, alight,

atoms and molecules

changing, and growing

and dying.

I sometimes think

I would be more beautiful

if I were damaged,

more precious

if I were dust,

but we are all supernovas

there is stardust in your

bloodstream

and somehow,

something seems wrong

about destroying it.

dear mama,

dear mama,

the head fell off my doll

and inside it were misery

and company

and we had a tea party

and now

I am broken

glass.

dear mama,

you looked at me again

and I’ve eaten nothing

today.

are you proud of me

yet?

dear mama,

I don’t know how to tell

you this

but I am broken

and you have not bothered

to sew me together.

dear mama,

my doll is missing her head

and I am missing mine.

dear mama,

it rained again last night

and dripped through the roof

down my cheeks.

dear mama,

are you dancing?

I’ve never been good

at dancing.

dear mama,

I am tired and

there are thoughts

in my head

that are not my own.

dear mama,

I don’t know

who you are

anymore.

dear mama,

the head fell off my doll,

and so I decided

to cut off

my own

so that

we could dance

together.

 

monster

I live in the shadowy places

under your bed.

I am the footsteps

on creaking stairs.

I feed the quiet voices

in your head,

When everyone leaves you,

I’ll be there.

I live in the night, so the day

you will dread,

I promise to you

nobody else cares.

I’m easy to anger,

so watch where you tread,

And remember that you’re

my nightmare.