Thoughts On A Page

are filled with silence,

whilst our hearts

scream, with want.

No sounds

fall

from our tongues

yet,

our eyes never fail

to meet

across the distance,

singing

our unspoken thoughts.

So steadfast

are we

in our denial,

so stubborn

are we

in our struggle,

to hold onto

what we know.

Even whilst

yearning

weighs,

each and every breath,

whilst desire

floods

through our veins.

Still,

we try to quiet

the lingering fire

that begs to

burn

through

our very souls.

- With a love like this

my own worst critic.

Flay me if you like

but no one can cut deeper

than my broken fingernails,

no one can spill more blood,

fill a crimson sea

with a gushing river,

than the starving beast beneath

and no one can reduce me

to the barest of nothingness

without the breath

of a single thought.

is the path

that I’ve become used to,

twisting

down,

down,

down,

into a darkness

that continues

to welcome me home.

Just as I think

I’ve finally

reached my freedom,

the hands of hell

rise from their resting place,

fingers latching,

to drag me back under

to a place I know too well,

a place where

defeat is no longer an enemy

but a close and trusted friend,

a place where

normality

is defined by depths of sadness

and hope is a figment,

a long-forgotten myth.

Time moves differently here,

it’s a box of isolation

contained within the

confines of a body

that has lost its reason to function.

Just being is the only purpose,

being and breathing,

but sometimes,

even that

becomes too difficult,

sometimes,

the pull

of temptation

is much too inviting,

in its want

to just

let

go.

in the dark,

I clutch tight

to the thought of you

lingering,

inside my heart.

fire

yesterday

and today,

I’m encased in ice.

When will this

stillness

evade me,

so that I can

get back

to chasing life?

I soul-search

until my lungs bleed

with the cold

but still,

frost chases me

and I’m left

clutching at nothing

but questions,

buckling

under the strain

of holding onto

so many

unanswered dreams.

reflections in a mirror

rippling,

against the tides

of our yesterday.

and tormented;

you may just

mistake me for Suffering,

were you not to see me

wear the skin of a human.

- More than just Matter

Inspired by this Sylvia Plath quote:

weak-kneed

and starry-eyed,

whilst my heart

beats,

to the thought of you.

so much,

that I walk to the devil,

blindly,

seeking love.

When I am burned

by the lethal fire,

I say

this is untold passion.

When I am weakened

by the virulent poison,

I claim

this is vital air.

Sickly

and lifeless,

is the look

I have learned to wear,

whilst delusions

have become my daydreams

and reality,

my unending nightmares.

Worth,

can be eroded

thought,

consumed,

the smell of fear and desperation,

my natural perfume.

Mirrors

are a stranger,

if anything,

they are my worst,

sworn enemy,

for they’ll show me

how I’ve lost my spine

and all parts

of my identity.

- The Forgotten Woman

Turn, not to another, to fill the missing parts of you.

standing on the edge

since the age of seventeen;

it once didn’t take much

for me to fall deep.

To hurtle

into the black hole

awaiting me below,

the one that I then

called my ever loving home.

But things have changed

from then til now,

you see,

I learned to build myself a rope,

to climb

like I never have done before.

I have burn marks

on my hands,

sweat drenching my brow,

my back arched

until I fear, it is fixed in place.

Muscles strained

to the point of cement,

breathing laboured,

I look up

to the surface

and think in desperation,

how much more?

Sometimes,

the bottom,

it feels so much closer,

the draw

pulling me

right back down.

I guess this is life

when you live with depression,

a constant and unending

tug of war:

to rise

or

to just let go.

Inspired by the music by NF.

beneath your surface;

the stillness of emptiness

has invaded and set in.

The anchor

keeping you in place

has lost its weight.

The breath

you breathe from your lungs

has frozen

without any heat from the sun.

Darkness

has become your friend,

Loneliness

that ache from a constant companion.

You starve

for when you’ll be you again,

you hunger

for feeling to return.

What else can you do

except float in purgatory?

Surrendering your last prayer

to keep the final flicker of hope

from burning out to ash,

only to disappear,

never to be seen again.

- If sadness were just a feeling, I would have purged it long ago. Really, it’s a monster, that grips and never lets go.

Inspired by the song Paralyzed by NF:

I feel like I’m drowning

and yet somehow,

with the force of a mountain,

with the will of fragile steel,

I push my way to the surface,

to sip

a precious breath of air,

only to lose my grip

once more

and fall

to the silent depths,

drowning again.