Don’t Ask

Don’t ask me how it’s going, for the truth is that it’s gone,

 a wholly unspectacular, prosaic denouement.

Don’t ask me how I’m doing. It’s a question that I dread.

I hate admitting how long I have lingered here, in bed.

Don’t ask me how I’m feeling, ’cause the answer is the same.

You’ll think I protest too much and dismiss what I declaim.

Don’t ask me how my day’s been so I won’t feel I should lie.

No man should have to fill his head with all that I decry.

Don’t ask me if I’m better. I so want to have good news.

Lacking it, my side of things, I heartily recuse.

Don’t ask me if it’s you who’s added pain to my distress.

If I have made you feel that way, I promise to redress.

Don’t ask me anything at all. Just hold me extra tight.

Being held by you is all that makes my life alright.

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King For A Day

He’s the quiet kid who sits in the corner.

He’s the last one picked for the team.

No matter where he is, he’s the foreigner.

 He’s the King of Low Self-Esteem.

His single mom would be his only mourner,

and would pay dearly for his scheme.

Nothing he had said could possibly warn her,

his words not sounding too extreme.

Though she did her best, everyone will scorn her,

and honor, she’ll never redeem.

Still, she is most grateful he was born of her,

despite the fatal blasts and screams.

 

Solace

How long have I been tensing both my shoulders to my ears,

taking my frustration out on everyone around?

It seems like it’s been going on for six or seven years.

Now the solace lost so long has once again been found.

 Breathing comes so easily, beloved peace at last,

never looking back behind me; I know this is real.

Now I’m certain struggles fought remain far in the past,

giving my existence an enlightened, weightless feel.

heartache

growing up, I thought the word heartache was just a metaphor

but now I know that it’s literal and not figurative

it’s not a simile “like my heart’s being smashed on the floor”

real pain burning my chest, not its descriptive derivative

hot, enervating, radiating ache which will not subside

it’s all focused where my heart is physically located

not imagery in this poem, that’s how it feels inside

heartache’s an apt description that should not be underrated

pet peeve: people using “literally” when they don’t mean it

so I want to be clear that that’s not what I am doing now

this heartache feels like it might literally kill lest it quit

everyday it’s harder to say that’s something I won’t allow

 

 

 

 

adrenaline

heart racing

eyes red

throbbing center

throbbing head

toes curling

feet flexed

tension now

tension next

fists forming

blood boils

crippling fight

crippling toils

living raw

love burned

nothing gained

nothing learned

Mean Mister Blues

rhymaphilia

Mean Mister Blues pitched a tent in my shoes

last night as I did sleep.

Now in my womb, he made it my tomb.

He came for emotions to reap.

I’d try to fight to keep light in my life

but that result wouldn’t come cheap.

The windows unlocked, I just couldn’t act shocked,

and over the sills poison seeped.

I would scream out but that’d give him no doubt

and he’d find me before I could go.

Gnashing my teeth with such pain underneath,

that could only set Blues’ heart aglow.

If I lie still and give up my free will,

the tortures I might undergo

would leave me a shell while my pain is excelled

until agony’s all that I know.

Trapped in my mind with so much undefined…

it’s my happiness I will forsake.

I let him come and consume till I’m numb,

stoking his fires with…

View original post 32 more words

Acid Rain

The tension flows freely and fills up the room,

condensing like dark clouds that bully the sky,

with clustering pustules that fester and bloom …

those unanswered questions about how and why.

Expanding balloons grow enormous and pop,

broadcasting a mist over all in their wake,

refusing to wilt, as their poison, they drop,

corroding facades, and exposing the fake.

Acidic remarks lash harsh stripes on the wall …

transmogrify love into caustic defeat.

They crush good intentions to dust where they fall,

ensuring destruction is swift and complete.

Stripes become solids, their coverage increasing.

Resentments pile high, exponential in growth.

Permanent statements– they live without ceasing–

obliterate all that was precious to both.

Unearthed

I constantly discover whom I am,

each new experience, a catalyst,

a psychoanalytic self-exam …

an invitation I just can’t resist.

 I learned, one year, that both my thumbs are green,

that horseradish and mustard stole my heart,

that I’d maintain an exercise regime,

that really, it is not too late to start.

But other things, I didn’t want to know,

like how harsh I can be when it gets tough,

that things I’d hoped were always, I’d outgrow,

that sometimes, words would never be enough.

 It’s tempting, to avoid perceiving more,

to skulk back in my cave and latch the door.

Spontaneous Combustion

Without a warning, I can feel my heart explode in flames.

The tendrils curl and lap, consuming all its bitter juice,

incinerating ancient scars incised by lovers’ games,

extinguishing emotions that were never any use.

As lipids, dense, and rife with fuel, will burn and smoke so long,

my heart continues smoldering each day and every night.

But if enduring heat like this will make me brave and strong,

I’ll stem this conflagration raging on, no end in sight.

Funkytown

haze-182966_640

Undoubtedly, I’m always in a funk,

existing in a neverending haze.

For years I’ve been accumulating junk,

the residue and scars from awful days.

I struggle to detach them from my life,

but still I am beholden to my past

emotional and health-related strife.

I helplessly obey. The die’s been cast.

Thus left with no escape, I organize,

identifying causes and effects.

I cannot win, so I must compromise

in hopes I’ll find the peace my health rejects.

Great callouses have formed and left me tough.

At times, I find they’re simply not enough.

*picture courtesy of Julianza on pixabay.com

Deus Ex Machina

greek-theatre-276382_640

You don’t have to do this alone.

I’m here for you. I’ll be your crutch.

  I know you’d get by on your own.

I just want to help you so much.

No, I cannot say how you feel.

I know that I’ve never been there.

But I know my love for you’s real.

So please keep in mind that I care.

Grown men are allowed to cry, too.

It doesn’t mean that you are weak.

Just say what you want me to do.

I’ll be the warm comfort you seek.

I’m here in this difficult time.

 I’ll be like a harness for you,

I’ll give you support while you climb.

I promise that I’ll see it through.

So when you are ready, just lean.

I’ll catch you before you can fall.

I’ll be your own godsent machine

and smash through that treacherous wall.

*picture courtesy of flamenco on pixabay.com

Hindsight Is 20/20

couple-158859_150*

If I’d worked my abs each day, I’d have a nice six-pack.

Instead, I tend to go ahead and fix myself a snack.

If I’d planted bulbs last fall, some flowers would have grown.

I waited far too long and now my chance for bulbs is blown.

If I’d planned my budget better, I would have those boots.

I just can’t seem to get my life and money in cahoots.

If I’d bothered setting up my cell phone warranty,

they’d replace my broken one entirely for free.

If I’d written down the passwords for all my accounts,

I would never write a check the bank would have to bounce.

If I got my head pulled out from so far up my ass,

I’d have stopped before we left and filled the car with gas.

If I’d checked my email I’d have seen the one from you.

I’d have read what you so kindly told me I should do.

It’s my own damned fault, which I wholeheartedly avow.

I plan to get my act together, if fate will allow.

I will make concerted efforts so I can improve.

I’ll try doing things of which I know you will approve.

Can I have some points for standing up and being brave?

 I’ve recently acknowledged your approval’s what I crave.

*picture courtesy of OpenClips on pixabay.com

Unicorn

horse-194999_150*

Growing up, I had the finest mother that could be.

She was full of love and gave the best of life to me.

She told me that she never lived within a happy world.

She said she’d been depressed since she was just a little girl.

I have a sister, one, and she is older than I am.

When we were still just kids, she’d scream and hit me. Wham! Bam! Bam!

All these long years later we discovered that she’s sick.

She’s bi-polar, and in finding anger, she is quick.

Then there is my father who’s a mean and nasty jerk.

Always getting fired, he could never keep his work.

After he got violent, Mom would finally get away.

When I have to see him now, I don’t know what to say.

My first love was jaded ’cause he’d been abused at home.

Neglected and mistreated, he’d been often left alone.

Try, though, as he did, a healthy viewpoint was not found,

even though I did my best to keep him smile-bound.

Two long years I dated, then, a man who in plain terms

was crazy ’nough to make the most outrageous nutball squirm.

I almost didn’t notice ’cause I guess that’s what I knew.

Admittedly…my outlook, from inception, was askew.

So it’s no surprise that, first, I married a young man

who battled with depression and a short attention span.

I wished I could be enough to make him happy. But…

I couldn’t and eventually, we both just gave up.

Then one day, a man appeared…a man who’d change it all.

Immediately, to his arms, I’d run and swoon and fall.

A well-adjusted unicorn pranced up to my plateau!!!

I had always wondered what it’d be like. Now I know.

How nice it is to have someone who’s not depressed, instead!

We fell hard, and soon the two of us were newlywed.

Afraid that I will spook him, I approach him with due care.

To take my past out on him is a move that isn’t fair.

I try to keep it reigned in so he’ll stay right here with me.

He says he’ll tough it out if I should lose my sanity.

I don’t want to lose it. But I know that if I did,

I would not be garbage of which he’d want to get rid.

But despite assurances, I still get scared sometimes.

So I write my fears out using goofy, verbose rhymes.

Thanks go to my unicorn, for saving me, once more.

He’s proven life exists outside depression’s haunting lore.

*photo courtesy of jes872148 on pixabay.com

Relics of the Past

deadman-ranch-283352_150*

It’s something that I’ve read about but never had been there.

You could say that I was academically aware.

But living with depression’s where I put my focus now.

I’ve been told to “let it go.” I go about that…how?

The demons that I’m fighting have existed for a while.

Somehow, though, in spite of them, I know I used to smile.

How was there a change and now I can’t control my face?

Two blank eyes and deep-cut lines have shown up in its place.

It won’t matter if the doctor has me take a pill,

one for which I know that I’ll receive a timely bill.

All my problems will remain, my relics of the past.

If I find reprieve, it’s fleeting. I know it won’t last.

That thought cancels any progress, so I hide and cry.

When I’m asked if I’m okay, I feel like I should lie.

No one wants to hear the answer that is really true.

They look like deer in headlights who don’t know what they should do.

So to make it easy on them, I just say, ‘I’m fine.’

Probably that night, I have a glass or three of wine.

Transitory fixes are the only thing I’ve got.

Increasingly, I find that’s an excuse I use a lot.

*photo courtesy of werner22brigitte on pixabay.com

Déjà Vu

I wish I could stop thinking of the things I should have said.

But now it’s all I do; I keep reliving in my head.

Why is it that when I’m gone, I figure it all out?

I know so clearly what I should have said, without a doubt.

Even if I sit and plan the things I want to say,

when I’m in the moment, my words don’t come out that way.

Trying it a second time is never quite the same.

It loses any impact, like a slowly dying flame.

I tell myself that next time I will get my words out right.

And someday when I do it, it should bring me great delight.

Since I never have, though, hand-me-downs are all I’ve got,

sifting through, again, how come my words betrayed my thoughts.

Return to Me

girl-107163_640*

Caustic tears burn my cheeks.

My nose is raw again.

Headache’s been here past nine weeks.

Seclusion’s now my friend.

See the tissues piled high

in fluffy, white cascades…

growing taller while I cry

as misery pervades.

Oversleeping keeps me numb.

It’s off to bed I go.

Don’t know this person I’ve become,

nor do I wish to know.

She’s so dark, it’s not like me…

at least, it hadn’t been.

In mirrors now, she’s whom I see,

my melancholy twin.

Want to smash the looking glass

so she will go away.

Till I do, the months go past

and seasons must give way.

Too long I’ve been crying now.

I wish that I were free!

Make the sad one take a bow,

and just return to Me.

*photo courtesy of geralt on pixabay.com

Old Cup of Tea

black-32044_150

Steeped in regret, I’ve become bitter like an old cup of tea.

Wait…don’t forget, I’ve been keeping it all under my hat.

Don’t hate me yet; I’ve needed a way to break myself free.

It’s not a threat. I’ve always known where I’ve gone, where I’m at.

Cracked is my  heart. I’ve crumpled up in a heap on the floor.

Nowhere to start…I’ve got to go to the end to begin.

Doing my part, I’ve tried not to burden you anymore.

Tear me apart. I’ve let it go and just won’t try to win.

Leave me alone. I’ve needed desperately to be at one with my thoughts.

Can’t I go home? I’ve wanted so badly to get to make it back there.

My chance is blown. I’ve ached for time to unravel these festering knots.

I should have known; I’ve long believed that nothing in this life is fair.

Where can I go? I’ve only ever known one path to follow.

I only know I’ve lost the chance to be whom I want.

Why is it so? I’ve worked all my life but my deeds all ring hollow.

Nothing to show, I’ve pushed only emptiness up to the front.

Well on my way…I’ve never been able to stop time from coming.

Later today, I’ve got some documents to check.

Once I’m away, I’ve moved on to something more numbing.

My edges fray. I’ve got to watch out for my tender neck.

photo courtesy of Nemo on pixabay.com

Mean Mister Blues

Mean Mister Blues pitched a tent in my shoes

last night as I did sleep.

Now in my womb, he made it my tomb.

He came for emotions to reap.

I’d try to fight to keep light in my life

but that result wouldn’t come cheap.

The windows unlocked, I just couldn’t act shocked,

and over the sills poison seeped.

I would scream out but that’d give him no doubt

and he’d find me before I could go.

Gnashing my teeth with such pain underneath,

that could only set Blues’ heart aglow.

If I lie still and give up my free will,

the tortures I might undergo

would leave me a shell while my pain is excelled

until agony’s all that I know.

Trapped in my mind with so much undefined…

it’s my happiness I will forsake.

I let him come and consume till I’m numb,

stoking his fires with ache.

Stuck on the floor, I don’t reach for the door.

I give the resolve he will take.

Now left destroyed, it’s the light I avoid,

for all promises weaken and break.

The Crack

i see a light through a crack ’neath the door

it scares me to think where it leads

i’d rather stay here and keep to myself

tending my heart while it bleeds

watching and waiting, I don’t make my move

i don’t think this is the time

i should prepare myself for what may come

purge my emotional grime

maybe what stands on the threshold beyond

isn’t too much to endure

but if I start in, and want to come back

my ignorance is no longer pure

better to sit here and just bide my time

tomorrow the crack will be there

it’s just the light that might soon disappear

and by then my heart can’t repair

if the light’s gone, is there really a crack

a way to break through the deceit

just as I’m nearing the answer each time

my heart beats a hasty retreat

Dark Thoughts

Dark thoughts…dark thoughts, all my own.

Dawn breaks through: a new day. Moan.

Still the thoughts are gray and black,

like barnacles upon my back.

They slow me down; I’d like to swim.

But there’s no light…the moon’s so dim.

I retreat and hope to sleep,

and soon the dawn again does creep.

All progress made the day before

has disappeared right out the door.

I start again and try to move,

try to learn to find a groove.

Mostly I just feel alone,

despite my site, and friends, and phone.

i don’t know what’s wrong

depression-72318_640

sometimes i don’t know what’s wrong

i only know it is

for peaceful slumber do i long

for peaceful, never ’tis

once on paper i can see

i have no reason true

why does sadness follow me

and leave me here so blue

write it out compare it all

the goods outweigh the bads

from at the top my mood does fall

and i just feel so sad

medication seems to work

for several folks i know

i get impatient i’m a jerk

i fear all think it so

no excuses left to tell

i have to steel myself

i pretend i’m feeling well

put sadness on the shelf

but no matter how i try

i know it’s always there

wish that i could say goodbye

and never have a care

photo courtesy of PublicDomainPictures on pixabay.com

reaching

whatever I am reaching for will simply not be caught

no real name for that one thing it seems I’ve always sought

would that I could draw a picture, make it something real

make it something tangible that my cold hands can feel

yet they sit here empty with a keyboard underneath

perhaps I’ll never have a thing to hold, pass on, bequeath

it doesn’t stop the longing though, my hands still in the air

grasping at the nothingness I know is always there

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