Redux
injurious thoughts
penetrating a tired mind
the head’s fabric torn
Originally posted 11/18/2018 on I Write Her.
Rust
Tag: depression
In Isolation
when the world you want
fades away
fantasies of what could have been
maybe should have been
continue to plague your mind
withdrawing internally
from that which wasn’t attained
it digs at your essence
desires just sharp reminders that you failed
weave in and out of your mind
everything feels hollow
surrounded by emptiness
your head, heart, and your soul buried under sand
drifting further away from reality
you are alone with your madness
Renascence
Inspired by What do you see #227
birds fluttering
awaken my essence
goodbye to the depths
where i had lain
a bright full moon
is calling for my presence
i resurrect
Plot Twist
Redux
Life
sometimes
has to change
very quickly.
A needed renovation for the soul.
Originally posted October 10, 2018, on I Write Her.
Finding My Way
Inspired by Sadje’s What do you see #181
here in the darkness
the comfort of silence
gives me respite
moments of discomfort
turn to hours, turn to days
the echo of my own thoughts
my best companion
wrapped up securely from harm
surrounded by nature
ease settles in my bones
eventually
i will find my way back
Coasting
Inspired by Reena’s Exploration Challenge #273 & Moonwashed Weekly Prompt – Willy Nilly
trapped in our own space
listlessly tossed about in uncharted territory
letting depression and anxiety set in deeper
watching what happiness we had drained
if only something forced us to interact willy-nilly
what with our sanity at stake
but would we listen?
Upended
i’m turned upside down
my head stuck deep in the ground
the world has shifted
Reblogs – Anonymously Hal & Penny Wilson
I realize that our struggles will affect us differently, but perhaps we keep in the back of our minds to not let the darkness color our hope. Of course, we can’t always control our biology by instinct alone. Do whatever it takes to find your peace.
I never settled on gray…
I settled on viridian.
I settled on a
romanticized intensity
seeped in tender
sophistication,
in hopes to cloak
the darkness and
cravings for desolation…
H.O.P.E. = Hold On. Pain Ends.
Ugly Ways
Silent deception
Confident chicanery
You smiling bastard
Hard hit to the heart
Foreign reality now
Weight of lies broke me
Forever altered
Gazillion hurt pieces
Difficult to breathe
Difficult to live
Struggling to survive in pain
Dark for a long time
Originally published 8/17/2018 on I Write Her.
Reblogs – N0tyetforgotten & Candice Louisa Daquin
What is the purpose of life if it hurts so many to live?
As time dwindles by N0tyetforgotten
Burning beneath times wick
A cesspool of options
Crippled by fear
Too long until the ends near
Fresh air but a mile away
Nothing and nobody is permanent, start the timer for their great escape
Anxiety cutting deep
Wounds unable to heal
How can something so beautiful be so grim?
Nothing Left to spare
A diamond in the rough, or a ruby coated disguised as bare?
Effortless wakes going beyond where the sun sets
Dawn breaks- alas the day sets again
Modern tides in a world so cruel
So little time, so much to do
Dreams are but figments of what could come true
Until next time,
Adieu
Thursday’s Child by Candice Louisa Daquin
Whatever you do
don’t feel sorry
things roll like flashing dice, casting fates
they do not require apology
she is the one on social media
who has no family
no one with the same last name
an orphan of surname
she pretends joining, thou her joins are frayed
there is a lock where her expectations meet
the silt and sloth of each long day
her heart spends most of its time
caring for others the way she wished
she were cared for
giving into a void, it can feel at times
like pouring water into sand and scooping it up
thirsty and forbidden to drink
her goal, to rectify through action
the irreducible inequity
we all suffer under
sometimes without blow
other times seemingly, beseiged
the wax and the wane
she used to believe love was the cure
for every malaise or grief of soul
but with time, even that slouched away
a disappointment within a broken egg shell
we choose scars we recognize
and sometimes they scald us
with their knowing …
one day when she dies
she will not be celebrated or recalled
never wanted commemoration but to
matter when she lived, no after life necessary
her ashes scattered by nobody in particular
to the wilds of the wind
where she will at last be free
to climb to climb to climb
I Write Her 