Settle Layers

Quietly, creeping it
comes unto my skin
and crawls deeply

Settling, it grabs a hold
of my eyes and chokes
them as they shed their layers

Quickly, overwhelming it
inhaled my very being
swallowing as it moves consuming

Overwhelming, hardly felt it
until suddenly the feeling
was then out of nowhere, felt

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Employed By Depression

I keep running away from almost every opportunity I get, especially with jobs.

But in reality, depression has become like a job to me over the past 10 or 11 years.

It’s consumed almost every ounce of me. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or not doing, it doesn’t matter if I’m with people or alone.

Every other day if not everyday is a constant struggle with having too much sleep or not sleeping enough, eating or not eating at all, feeling alone yet needing to isolate myself so that I don’t annoy people.

People tell me to find a hobby, to get up and do something, but even when I find a hobby.. or do something I feel I’m decent at, I either lose interest by finding another interest or I get bored or give up because it’s too difficult.

What seems to be my rock bottom, usually doesn’t feel like it’s enough to help me soar to the surface.

Yet despite all of these things, I’m still fighting even when I’m on my last straw.

I’m still fighting even when I feel as though I’m at my lowest point.

Someone once told me that it’s sometimes harder to let go than it is to hold on.

That may not be true for some people, but I feel as though it’s true for me personally because no natter how much I want to give into letting my body give up, no natter how many times I run away and create a new identity, no matter how many times I try to give up, for some reason, I snap out of it. I find something that motivates me without even searching for it and it’s enough until it isn’t enough again.

Strong like the ocean, moldable like the sand.

The ocean thinks that I’m weak because I collapse as easily as sand sculptures do when it waves over them.

Little does it know, that I’m more like moldable clay because I can be pulled, but I also can stand still.

– One day, I’m falling over, the next I’m standing upright. // B.L.

Satan’s Scalp

One minute, soaring so high
So high even the sky was jealous

Two minutes, saying things on the top of my scalp
Not bad, but annoying

Times have changed, zones
Prone to become something I can only tolerate intoxicated and under the knife

And all I had wanted minutes prior, were my wings to be clipped and my feathers to drop
A shell if you will, to leave behind

And all I felt was the loudness of my bludgeoned body parts, lightened inside the drowned space

Confided, but not claustrophobic
Tense, but not shaken

Demons calm, so intensely, immensely calm

Misassembled Limbs

Crawling up the limbs with roots tangled like the hair fraying on the backs of our hands
And aiming upwards a long with the claws that my teeth have become, digging harder

Screeching of the veins opening up as I reach closer, grabbing, grasping finally the destination of cloud winded galaxies

Brightly coloured shrapnel falling down as the winds pick up and drop me back onto my feet, lapping up the blood from the soot and soil, drenching in all it’s glory

Denomic Intrusion

Please don’t be scared my darling because no one can be more scared than i am by my own thoughts

Please stay my baby, the worst is in my head and not my hands around you

Cement Toil

This feeling, literally gut wrenching
Curdling, sitting and benching
People by the ears

Fizzy cauldron thoughts, boiling
Toiling with my thoughts
Quickly inhaling the droughts
Brought upon by the horrendous thunder storm
Exhaling shrapnel, cement falling bricks behind my eyes like a window to the soul, standing broken and all
A part

Physically ill, mentally off the pill
Taking away the thrill
Of bring criminally insane
Washing my life, drain
Straining my back from pulling on your heart strings

I mean well, things I say
They may sting
A bit, tearing through you, bring
Me your greatest pleasures
And make me your best treasure