I feel like a computer that has eaten space cookies
sitting here on cloud 0.9
it’s like a hammock contouring to my body
holding me afloat
in the middle of the storms that are ever looming
and when this cloud bursts full of rain
I will fall head first
as if a rain drop
and on my advance, I will feel the exhilaration of falling
heartache exuding via sweat
I a fellow humanoid, being part of the fall
my heart soaring the skies of summer
before the drop of autumns blunder
and as I fall into winters backdrop
Christmas carols erase my desperation
as it travels to their voices
and colours the world in Christmas hopefuls
anything to colour the winter with something akin to joy
lest the bleakness remind humanity
of its own downward trajectory.
And as I plunge
to the place in which we’re all destined
I feel more certain than I have ever before
it’s something we all know
and it’s this moment that counts
as the seeds of my life disperse
not a nullification of my form
but a nutrient-rich dust
in which I become
Becoming the fall
and feeding the seasons
of the coming years.
A gorillas existential crisis
Dunno
I’ll smoke another cigarette
to put another nail in my coffin
I keep thinking I might be getting close to rest
but still, I keep on going
torn between fear and loathing
Why do I keep trying to do my best
Can’t I just stay in tracksuit bottoms and vest
loafing around with no will to do anything
but in jest
Why is everything always about progress
what if I just want to stay here
where I regress?
They say it’s okay not to be okay
but I still think I feel ashamed
Is it okay to not be okay
and stay the same?
Not my home
The needles write love on my knuckles
while the blades write hate
I will not be stilled
till earth and water whittle me down
I could only wish
it would be quicker somehow
these waters are troubled
I’m crumbling as rubble
becoming the froth on the water’s edge
a slow release and decay
I wish to be dust not tomorrow but today
I am not a sabal palm
or anything other rugged
I cannot withstand eras
this earth is not my home but a cage
Violence
There is violence inside of me
drawing words on my tongue
they go down my throat like blades
I could cut the world into pieces
with my sharpened neurosis
how long can I keep it within
my face contorting
trying to be what the world wants to see
while the butcher inside my head dices and slices
death a thousand times and more
born from love, carved into hate.
Depression with a capital D
Depression is hard to recover from because as much as you don’t choose to stay miserable, it feels like a choice between staying miserable or faking it.
And the faking in of itself takes its toll on you when inside you’re anything but okay.
Depression makes it, so you also don’t see the point in recovery because, after all, you think that life is pointless anyway.
That, along with trying to fake it, is the ultimate struggle.
If life is pointless, why bother recovering?
I come up against this all the time.
People say Depression lies to you.
I say it doesn’t.
Who is right?
Obviously, I think I’m right. Depression tells us the ultimate truth that life is pointless in the grand scheme of things.
I’m always fighting this struggle inside; I can’t remember a time when I didn’t.
I don’t beat myself up for the same things as others, generally speaking, not to say I never do, I have my moments, but they’re few and far between.
I don’t beat myself up over a lack of success. Success never mattered to me because life is too pointless for it to matter.
But what I do beat myself up time and again for is not going through with the ultimate expression of this pointlessness, for being a coward for not doing it.
Some nights it haunts me that I am too scared to do the one act that makes logical sense in the scheme of things.
What does that fear and anxiety mean? That underneath it all, I truly want to live? That’s what I’m always told. ‘It’s a sign you want to live.’ ‘It’s because you want the pain to be over, not your life.’
But what if it really is just a case of cowardice? I have been a coward much of my life, never mind being able to do the ultimate act to oneself.
Weird how cowardly a person can be while also feeling so utterly Depressed.
It’s a weird thing, too, because Depression can be an empty, numb feeling and too much pain. Either oscillating between feeling so numb you could be accused of managing to be ‘stoic’ only because you feel so little there is nothing to express, or you’re so distraught in life people tell you to calm down.
The steam erased my face….
The steam erased my face
and I thought this is the truest reflection
I’ve always wished to be faceless
so no one can demand expression
my lips don’t always crease right to the moment
and other people’s mouths pull tight around laughter
that the tightness is meant to hide
because it’s at my expense
embarrassment shades my cheeks
as I try to find the right shape
a formation of lines that are up or down
to draw emotion
as they lean with expectation
like they do when leading horses to do tricks
but I mustn’t get it right
or maybe it’s them, their faces that aren’t appropriate?
but no it must be mine because everyone agrees it’s me
my expression always drawn on by crayon
crooked and out of kilter to the moment
how dare the sun
The sun was shining through the leaves
A kaleidoscope of rays
How dare the sun peak through
While I’m sitting here missing you
Deaths cradle
the waves snap
at the edge
time chiselled in rocks
debris of war
aka life
a fossilised anguish
deep in the core of us
my brown eyes
darkening waters
the world a periphery vision
separating me from you
falling into the black
and I shall kick up no resistance
a night of forever
whispers me to sleep
in deaths cradle
NaPoWriMo: The dysphoria of twos
I’ve got some new boots
what does that mean for my other pair
it doesn’t seem fair
can both exist at the same time
or does one erase the other?
If I close my eyes does one pair stay
and the other disappear?
what if I wore odd boots, one from each pair?
will I look a mug, when I got out there?
if I keep them both in my sight
they’ll both exist and that will be okay, right?
unless one is my Monday pair
and the other is my Tuesday pair?
But does that mean I need to buy another fucking pair?
And then another, then another?
One for each day, so that none are left behind?
What a fucking bind!
I’ll keep the one pair, if you don’t mind.
NaPoWriMo: Smile, no frown
Hello fellow weirdos
I tried to be a storage of calm
but it seems I’m too wired for that
so you’ll have to take me as I am
restlessly still
my face don’t always translate what I feel
Perhaps the storm doesn’t cross my face
or maybe it does
I never know what expression it pulls
I tried pulling strings through my lips
so I could control them like puppets
‘Smile, no frown’
I tried to sew puppet string to my eyes
to express my confusion or lack thereof
silverbackgorillapoetry.com 