Television Brain

He stares into her soul

He sees the darkness

It frightens him

It draws him closer

To keep her safe he must hurt her

She walks with the fire

But he gets burned by the flame

I always feel awkward going to open mic night

The smells of coffee and the awkward people there to share how they feel

I always feel awkward going to open mic until I get there

I see the awkward people sharing a piece of themselves

I can put myself in their shoes and for a few minutes I don’t have to be in mine

For a few minutes I don’t have to feel alone

We may not talk but as poets we all share a connection

Even if it may be brief

We share a moment

We listen to their words and understand where they were

Hopefully my phone doesn’t die

This city isn’t a wasteland

You’re just tired

Perhaps you’re hungry

Hungry for something more

Perhaps you’re ur tired because you’ve been here all your life

Perhaps you’re tired of the smells of Mexican food

Perhaps you’re tired of hearing the sound of corridos over the smell of barbecue

Perhaps you’re tired of tequila on Saturday night and pan dulce on Sunday morning

Perhaps you’re ur tired of your tias handmade flour tortillas or tired of Mrs. G’s

Perhaps you should write a love letter to this city and remember why you ever loved it in the first place

I wanted to feel confident

I wanted to feel happy

I wanted to feel anything but this

I downed my cup as if the alcohol I was ingesting was the cure for my depression

As if it was the cure for my loneliness

If only it was that simple

So for now I’ll just wear a mask

I stared lovingly into your burning eyes

A fire burned something fierce

Fear feeding the flames

The floor below you fell faster than your tears

You woke up that morning

Everything was the same

Yet everything was different

A silence that would echo forever

Your warm breakfast

Your cold hands

Your swift departure

A good morning with no goodnight

A hello with no goodbye

It snowed the morning after your funeral

Your final words gracefully caressing our bruised skin

Your final good morning

I have no words to mend her broken spirit

The only thing that scares me is losing you

I’ve been beat

I’ve been betrayed

I’ve been discouraged

I’ve been degraded

I’ve been hungry

And I’ve been homeless

But I’d rather sleep on the cold hard ground

If this should be my final entry

I shall welcome the void with open arms

No more fighting

No more fear

A cry like a cannon

A whimper like the wind

A pain you choose to ignore

Or perhaps embrace the cruelty you inflict

Do you ever stop and wonder

What does a cow dream?

Why does the fowl scream?

Why does the pig weep?

Murder is murder

Not to be renamed as sport

A life is taken

Only the title changes

A need to survive

A trophy to thrive

The irony and cruelty

that makes you feel alive

My eyes locked in a forever gaze

A hypnotic view

Depression is not a trend

Depression is not sharing a meme about how you wanna die

Depression is not cutting your arms where it won’t be fatal and sharing it on social media for pity and attention

Depression isn’t loud and in your face

Depression is a silent killer

Depression is self harming in places that people won’t see

Depression is self harming in ways that people won’t notice

Depression is constantly saying sorry

Depression is fake smiles and swallowed sadness

Depression is subtly reaching out for help

We are particles

On a rock in space

We are particles

Who were given a cruel concise

A reminder that we are no one

Going nowhere

You stroked my hair and sang me a song

Your voice like a whisper

Your hands like home

Broken and tired

I come from broken homes

Broken promises

Bruised knuckles

And tears that were oceans deep

My future is starting to look black again

Just like it used to

When I was ready to die