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Dear DepressionDear Depression,
I remember when we first met: I was a child, regularly crying in bed without my parents knowing, and already at that time, without even understanding the concept of death and its aftermaths, I wanted "to be gone forever". But to me, it was just temporary, so I suppressed.
We met again when I was a teenager, and everything was amplified. My body kept changing, I felt like I was in an emotional rollercoaster. "It's the adolescence", they said. "Yes, it's probably just that. It'll pass when I will grow older", I thought.
Spoiler alert: you never left.
I remember when I first acknowledged you: it was when I almost collapsed after 3 days straight of partying and binge drinking, spending my money in all sorts of things, while still working and studying. In my head, I was just embracing and enjoying life, but in my doctor's point I view, I was being unhappy, "Judging from all your answers to my questions, you seem to be depressed", he stated.
I remember bein
My Soul is in the Kitchen FloorIt's not so much
that I was fond of the tile
or even that a bit of my heart
was tied into the floorboards,
and it wasn't the dust
or the noise that scared
But I find it hard to change
don't die easily
even when you don't care
what removing each nail means,
or the color scheme, or the fixtures
Or anything, really
It's the house we were married in;
the tile doesn't matter,
or the cabinets,
or the color of the room
observatoryi don't know any system to tell you how
your eyes can hold an entire galaxy each,
yet that seems to be an understatement
as mars no longer allures me
with its mysteries nor saturn
with all of its rings–
nevermind the moon and its radiance
i used to chase because, for now,
i will only be professing adoration
to the light held by your gaze;
in comparison, the sun quakes.
and thereafter, your eyes are
the earth i want to exist in.
AmorphousBy myself I am
Without borders or fences
And the most confined
Damned Kids"You wanna see something cool, Peter?"
Marnie's hair was long, shaggy. She peered at me through it. Shy. Brown eyes behind black curtains.
Every time she said that, it was an adventure. Danny'd snicker at me. "Where'd she drag you off to this time, Pete? Catch a chicken and kill it? Pull the wings off butterflies?"
The whole town thought Marnie and her family were strange. Marnie was bullied at school. One time Danny shoved a cup of worms into her locker. Everybody thought that was real funny.
I didn’t. It was stupid. Marnie was just quiet. Her mom drank a lot, didn’t leave the house much. Her dad, well. He wasn't around.
Marnie drummed threadbare sneakers on my porch. One of her knees was scabbed.
"Sure," I said. We grabbed our bikes.
Marnie led me down a dirt road. She stopped, skidded up dust. I did the same. "There," she said, "We're going under the fence." She slipped her thumbs under the barbed wire and scooted under it like a raccoon. She held the wire up for me.
TribunalWhen you speak, you read me lullabies,
stories of my youth that have been etched into your eyelids --
They are intricate forgeries
with an eloquent taste on your tongue
and a soothing touch for your conscience
But your words only amount to hearsay...and my memories to heresy
because I can't remember being wanted...and you always deny being wicked
Poppy AngelsMaroon angels bloom, whilst
petal wings rise in remembrance.
El RoiMom says I learned my lesson,
But that is not the truth.
The truth is that I felt you so deeply
That I tried to drink a candle
And fill myself with a warmth,
A flicker of light,
The smell that resembles something
I sat here for nine years
And tried to convince myself
That there is more inside of me
Than murals and martyrdom.
Mom, I go to see God.
They will write verses about
This town and this place.
There will be novel after novel,
An idea spread out twelve hundred pages
That could have been condensed
Into one hour and thirty-seven minutes.
I laugh because it had little to do with
Timing and everything to do with how
My leg cramped the first time we had sex.
No, I did not tell my parents, please stop.
She does not know; she kisses our cheeks,
Mouth full of the good news of the Lord,
Not these transgressions in His house.
Did you tell her that you spent four days
Wondering if my father was coming for you,
Hammer in hand, bent on blood?
Did you tell her, eyes full of sleep,
AgesThe fadings of the eye,
coming and going
as the worry and the desire
to calll for a doctor
tide up and down
like the beat of the planet;
Our eyes fade,
and grow dim,
like our opinions of the family
that flees the city,
flees the burden
of the sibling that grow
even if they
want a lower wind
that can help
with the tightening veins
and their pressure;
the eye is full in its whiteness,
it could ignore
of the neighbour telephone,
and we all want clarity,
we all want our eyes and ears
to be spoonfed
like the spring of babydom,
but it is time
and stand up,
it is time to
to the pins
fogging eyes of the typist.
The Curse of Unrequited Loveone:
You tilt your head to the sky. The midnight sun wears down on you, it’s ten o’clock at night and it’s still bright out. Your head is dizzy, clouded, swimming with all the feelings you keep locked up and all the things you wish you had the guts to tell Sara. She touches your hand. Her laugh tinkles and speckles your day with bright spots. You want to kiss her, chase the rum coke and licorice on her lips and tongue.
She doesn’t like girls. You keep your hands to yourself. Let your eyes roam over the stretch of her body, let your insecurities sit at the bottom of a bottle of rum. You push the thoughts out of your head, even as she leans in close, even as her lips brush your ear, even as she whispers low and dirty and secret and forgotten “I really wanna kiss someone right now, too bad there aren’t any boys here.”
You spit her name out of your mouth in the middle of the night with your hand buried deep down the front of your
Let's have a race, have a race, have a raceAnd see who is the fastest, and
peer out the window at enormous
mountains, long road, green-grey
blur, rock pool crab attack fall one
giggling one pouting two worried
sun warm kisses, Harold gloats
flies high clear blue sky, she has
sea shells on the back car seat
and he cowers at the monsters
hiding within, blue hue flecked
curtains grey dusk, exhausting
mountain climb misty summit,
memories tangle timelines blur,
rewind end with navy biro and
press play for side two to begin.
***Prompt from TheseWingsofDarkness : Cassette tape
Call of the Rift: Flight, Chapter 1
“Ouch!” I cursed under my breath and sucked on the line of blood that appeared across my thumb.
“You’re doing it wrong.” Fendul took my hunting knife and peeled a curl of dark wood from the palm-sized figurine. “Hold it like this. You’ll stab yourself in the gut otherwise.”
“Nei. It doesn’t work that way.” I yanked it back from him.
We sat cross-legged on the rocky beach of Kotula Huin, a still, glacial lake. Drifts of fog surrounded us. Colossal hills loomed over the valley, its dense layer of trees barely visible against the dark sky. A dull pink glow silhouetted the jagged peaks to our right. Behind us, the forest dripped. My fingers were too damp to grip the rawhide cord wrapped around my bone knife.
Voices drifted down the shoreline. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked.
Fendul shrugged. “Not until the ceremony starts.”
“So you’re up this early for the fun of it.”