without a pulse

only seeds were left

her white-washed cheeks

and those protruding bones.

just the little girl

next door in the window

pounding stained glass

with the hurry of heartbeat

now, there are only echoes of words

don’t look through the curtains

stay in the back alley

skipping over puddles,

smoke fills the house

abandoned and broken –

without a pulse.

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confessions of the hospital bed

Ruptured joints 
Deep in black ink.
Flimsy fingers 
Marvel the meaning
Congested with 
Words that run 
Off the cherry tongue.
The mouth 
Of a girl is a briefcase 
Of secret documents 
Known only by
The doctor’s eye.
The protocol of
Assessment
and emergency 
Response always is
Eleven hour wait,
Rotting of 
cathedral walls,
It is the sound
Of small bodies shutting
Beside me in leather chairs.
Shreds of soft 
Stiffened skin in spring.
I close my eyes and 
Allow them
to be sewed shut.
New and old 
The sounds I
have never known
Seem familiar like 
The hazy vision
Of my body hanging
From a noose.

Apology

im sorry

for the nights I

demanded the emergency room

im sorry we cant talk

about it

im sorry I

cant fix it

im sorry I cant

fix me

i’m sorry you cant

fix me.

im sorry for the screeching

fights

im sorry I cant see you.

Im sorry for leaving the

house.

Im sorry for running when

you wanted to talk

Im sorry for stealing the

pills from your drawer

im sorry for stealing

all the razors.

Im sorry he died

days before

your birthday.

Im sorry this runs

in the family.

Im sorry there is no

“family”

im sorry for the mutilation.

Im sorry for the

scars.

Im sorry you cant

see this pain. Im sorry

you treat me like you were

treated.

Im sorry you’re just like

her.

Im sorry for the loss.

Im sorry I still hate you

im sorry I still want to

love you.

Im sorry we cant talk

anymore. Im sorry

my voice trembles. Im sorry

you found

the note. Im sorry

I took nineteen sleeping pills

because of you. Im sorry I

still get so angry.

Im sorry I cant hug you

anymore.

Im sorry I cant remember

him. Im sorry this isn’t going

to get any better.

I’m sorry im gone.

I’m sorry you can’t find me – you never could.

The lilies

The lilies had
Disappeared
Completely hidden by a blanket
Of rerouted mourning.
I rock myself
To sleep like a broken child
I rock myself
To sleep just like
my mother used to do
When my fears kept on
Piling inside of me like ant hills.

The chalk outline dances
Grabs my hand
Leading
Tip toe quietly down the dark
Alley way.
With black eyes and
Toughened arms covered
In lines of raised pink and white.

The darkness undresses
It is unbuttoned with chance of
Sunlight. And the lilies smile again.

On breaking up with my depression

Its not so easy to just

come out and say.
Its not so easy to put into
words, to scrape the
recycled phrases from my
throat.

Its not you, its me.

Actually, its you.
Its your sweetness
turned stale.
All the knives pushed into
my spine.
Its your tight grip
choking me.
Its your cruelty.
The sadistic
The snarl
The nail biting, hair pulling anxiety

you have supplied.
I’ve wanted to say this
for a long time but you have
a way of sticking around.
And somehow your words
and ill intentions
start to get tangled
with mine.

It just wasn’t meant to be
you see I just want to be free.
I’ve got more important
things to do, more books to read
more lessons to learn.

I cant spend all of my time
snuggled up in the destructive
nature you’ve kissed so gently with.
you’ve taught me to apologize for
my existence but
I’m not sorry.

This is the longest relationship
I’ve ever been in.
It isn’t the end of
us.
I know you will come
back and weasel your way
into the cold
empty space on my mattress.
You’ll find your way back
you always do.

Lifeless light

Eyes become

         keen adjusted

    to the dark,

adapted to the

familiar      absence of light.

the moon

    in dismay is

a companion

                     of mine.

celestial object

surrounded        by sky

in toneless thought,

the hushed sound

       of a whimper

is an animal

slithering on all fours.


Authors note: The way that I decided to format this poem is intentional. The indents and spaces I made while writing this was to create a feeling of being detached from reality, and to create a "choppy" feeling while reading the words because that is what my thought process is like on a daily basis. 

Assembly Line

we are the products
of genetics gone
wrong.

a spiral, catching flame

to wound sanitary skin.

above all else, an
evil thing taking route
in shaken torsos.

gathering cobwebs
in the twists and turns
of a waking nightmare.


Authors note: The inspirtation of this poem was inspired by hearing the news of a family member who began starting to take antidepressants. It made me realize that Mental Illness runs in my family and has for a long time.