I am the Tar, Baby

I have tainted this place
with my depression
Painted it with sticky black tar
suffocating the once glowing white room

Put a bitter taste in the air
heaviness collapsing
this shelter inwards
Like a slow poisoning
a dark possession
It struggles to fight

I hang on to the
small white patch
of hope, yet untouched
I try to clean the thickening walls
searching for the future
beneath the present

It sticks to my hands
and climbs my arms
Reaching strong black ropes
up around my throat

My skin can’t breathe
I can’t breathe

It has consumed me

No, Nurse.

Are you ok?
No.
But there is fucking nothing
anyone can do
So just don’t ask me.

You don’t want
to hear anything
other than yes.
I am just a job to you.
A checkbox.
A piece of paper.

You draw me in
with caring eyes.
But I am discarded
as soon as I walk
out that door.

I disappoint you
with my repeating tears
of torment.
Just a face
in a sea of nutcases.

Your hugs are only skin deep.
My embrace
leaves part of me behind.

Repel the Rooster

I seek out space
for my expanding skull.
Give me rest
for this body heavy
poisoned like lead.

Cock your head
as I stretch
this broken wing.

Cover your ears
as I strangled sing
a song of sorrow.
A pathetic mating
call you will never hear.

Your pity stains
my sleeves like
spilt tea, a waste
upon a wasteland.

My touch like death
you drop my hand
in sweet abandon.

In my screaming hair

Torment
Like bats tangled
in my screaming hair
Wait for the knots
to become a nest
They took up residence
in my head

The harsh rush of air
from leathery boned wings
Torment
in my ears
They drink greedily
from my streaming eyes

Feed on the blood
from my bitten lips
and tattered fingernails
Torment
as I try to tear them
from my hair

My hands grasp air.

Existence Is Too Loud

I can’t stand this sensation.

Every hair a needle, bugs crawling,
zapping me all over.
Pain in my head like brain freeze, zero to suicide every hour.
Graphic images flashing through my head,
urges that scare me with shocks shooting though my heart.
Jaw aching from biting back anger and tears. Lump in my throat choking me,
a bitter taste burning my mouth.
Pain racing through my hands and feet.
The constant holding back of hateful outbursts
and panic attacks. Disgusted with myself,
the feel of my hair across my face, the clothes against my skin,
repulses me. A desperate cold in my chest.
Flushes of heat have me tearing at my clothes, convinced I am being burnt
or fearing I will pass out. The fear is back, the guilt, the self-loathing.
Faces loom over me, distorted judging stares, whispers behind hands,
people on the wrong end of the binoculars.
Acid trickles down my back
as shadows creep up behind me, frightening forms in the dark.

In a puff of smoke

Don’t let it go out.
You fought so hard to light it. Twisted and contorted
to shelter the flame from the cruel licks of wind. Keep it alive
with steady gentle breaths. Use the pale emitting heat
to thaw your frozen bones. Hide from the aggressive blows until it admits defeat
or the flame burns strong enough to survive it.
Eventually use the attack as fuel to conquer it.