Diary Entry 2/4

The start of suffering. The suffocating rising panic. The heartache too heavy to bear. My face distorted in the mirror. Touch burns fingerprints on my raw skin. A longing for that which is lost. Lost. You are no longer. No longer here to wrap my wounds in healing white bandages of comfort. My heavy head leans into a missing shoulder. My back arches for a warmth that has disappeared. I face this dark narrow hallway alone. Reaching for a hand that is too far to reach. My hand falls through decades of pain. It returns to my side empty and cold.

Advertisements

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

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.

Web of Despair

Her eyes snapped open.

Her body was damp with perspiration. She felt drugged and heavy, each limb saturated with thick sorrow. But her eyes were panicked, darting this way and that, looking for a way out. Carcasses of past loves, hopes and regrets surrounded her. The sense of loss was so intense the air seemed to quiver and vibrate with it.

The thoughts and visions attached themselves to her very spirit with strong, sticky threads of control. Their oppressive poison seeped through her veins, causing a surge of unbearable pain. She wanted to scream, to release it in a heartbreaking cry, but the thick sticky threads were coiling around her throat, suffocating her. The outside world became muffled and she began to give in to her drugged state.

As a final stab of despair pierced her tired heart she made one last attempt to cry for help. She screamed with her soul, begged with her bones and told through her tears her desperation for freedom. Although no sound emitted from her broken body, someone felt it.

As a shaft of light broke through her dark prison she felt the poison being sucked from her veins and life being breathed into her once again. The threads turned brittle and shattered as she pushed her way out, into the light.