HastyWords's Blog, page 11

IF I KNEW

If I knew then

What I know now

That time

Really does play tricks

That time will heal

That I’ll wish for more

That it’s a thief

And that it does… stop

When you hurt

Speeds up

When you’re laughing

I wouldn’t have

Cried so much

Wasted so much

I’d slow down

But also go faster

I’d close my eyes

And take more in

And let more go

I’d hug you more

Be nicer to you

Leave sooner

Arrive earlier

If I could remember now

What I thought I knew then

I’d try to know it all again

MUTED

Sounds tend to throb

Slightly muted

Under the noise of

Blood rushing

A vibrating River

Dulling my words

I’m in here

My eyes plead

My hands reach

My face contorts

But my voice

Is imprisoned

By the sound

Of my own pulse

*NOTE

There have been moments in the past that are hard to describe. During the darkest days of my depression when I was more trapped than free. I didn’t look like I was living in a locked room but I was.

I’d see people talking to me but they were hard to hear over the distorted cacophony inside my own head. My heart and soul were at war and my brain was the crooked judge.

If I spoke would I be heard? Could I speak? Would my words make sense?

SEEING RED

I woke up seeing red

Red fall trees dropping leaves

Red lipstick stains on my pillow

Red comforter piled on top of me

The red blood

Leaking from cracks

Scratched onto my skin

The red liquid on my nightstand

The red behind my eyelids

As I try to go back to sleep

Hoping sleep will heal

My broken red heart

*NOTE

Recently I’ve been going through a bit of a hormonal change. Normal changes. Nothing weird. But I’ve been struggling to regulate emotionally. I do a lot of it myself. Try to sleep. Talk to friends. Use my words and spend time on things that I know will make me feel accomplished. I make myself useful where I can. Make myself scarce where necessary.

This poem takes me back to a time when I didn’t know how to self regulate. When escapism and self harm were my coping mechanism. Sometimes the pull is strong to revert back to these tactics.

I am stronger now and I’ve come a long way. But the feelings are still there. There is an animal part of me that still wants me dead. I used to believe I was born with this monster but I now believe it was created by the words of others. Words I believed. Words and actions meant to hurt me and keep me down. Words I think I can erase over time because I’ve had help erasing them the last several years and that monster is weaker and I AM stronger.

FADING

Daylight fades

As the dark chases

Mercy away

It’s not night

It’s darker

Where choice

Meets forever

And says

Goodnight

One

Last

Time

SELF

The more I live

The less I believe

That purpose

Exists

And if it does

It was never

Meant for me

I’m the virus

I’m the monster

I’m the one

That should go

I JUST CAN’T

My brain said

I just can’t

And I couldn’t

For the life of me

I just couldn’t

So I wouldn’t

And I didn’t

Until can’t

Was all

That could

THE FOAM

Foam sits churning

At the edge of nowhere

No signs mark the place

No arrows or strings

Will lead you there

If you see it

It’ll be too late

You’ll become part

Of this foam

Sitting at the edge

Of nowhere

TRENDSPOTTING

Reconciling never ends

As the narrow bones

Widen into countries

And the steps descend

Into chaotic drumbeats

We churn the gold out

Spread it on idols

Tarnished repetition

Tok tok tok tok tik

Developing desperation

The bell tolled

And landscapes rolled

And nobody

Was the wiser

THE LAMENT

I keep looking down

To see if my skin is still there

It feels like it’s crawling off

Trying to leave me exposed

No way to hold myself in

I keep grinding my teeth

So much my fingernails hurt

Sympathy pains maybe

Spreading throughout my body

My muscles are tense

Working my joints

Warming my bones

I might catch fire

It would be my luck

My thoughts would still think

After incineration of all else

I think maybe that’s hell

The moonless midnight

The cradle of despair

A condemning sorrow

Crying tears of kerosene

Creating a wicked dance

To depression’s lament

THE FAUCET

The faucet drips

It’s consistent

At first it pained me

Made me anxious

Made me uncomfortable

I tried to fix it

It needed something

I didn’t have

I could have

Turned off the water

But that wouldn’t fix

What was broken

So I sat with it

Listened to the drip

Became one with the drip

Realized the drip

Had a lot to say

About me

About who I was

The drip was wise

And I got used

To the sound

Made it a part of me

And now… if it got fixed

I would be broken