Tag Archives: mental health

Sea of Faces

I’m drowning
in this sea of faces,
So many faces,
All eyes on me,
So many eyes,
I’m suffocated,
So many eyes,
But none can see,
My mind rewinds,
Removes all traces,
Inside, my stasis
starts to bleed,
The wounds are born
from sworn self hatred
that filters out
wellwishers deeds,
All good intent
my mind erases,
And in its place;
a rotten seed,
And from it grows
all the hollow aching
Black Dog’s thirst
could ever
need.

Outline

I’ll curl up right inside myself,
I’ll curl up and I’ll hide,
I’ll hide there right inside myself,
Shrinking, liquefied,
I’ll curl up right inside myself,
They won’t notice I’m not here,
They’ll think I still fill out my skin,
They won’t see me disappear,
Hollow bones and stringy flesh,
Teeth and hair and nails,
The world will see my outline
While I slowly rub out the details.

Popping Corn

My head is full of popping corn,
Must let the right ones in,
Some are bitter, some forlorn,
All sodden; soaked in sin.

My head is full of popping corn,
A jumbled, maze-like din,
I cannot breathe; my cords are torn,
I’m choking on the string.

My head is full of popping corn,
Can’t let the black dog win,
But his howl’s already filched my dawn,
His dark has drawn me in.

Arrested Development

Sergeants atop their ivory towers,
Fatted by their godly powers,
Lording over drunks and strays
and those caught upon their worst of days.

A mother cries beside her son,
Bitter shame for what he’s done,
He stands defiant – no remorse –
Chest puffed out in show of force,
He cannot see her heart is breaking,
Cannot see the choice he’s making.

A girl beneath a mental cloud,
Lies prostrate as she calls aloud
the letters of her father’s name,
Over and over and over again.

A probie fiddles with his vest,
As he recounts his last arrest,
He shifts to left foot, then to right,
To quell the growing nervous bite.

An addict tries to state his case,
While picking scabs that line his face,
“I stole the meat to buy the drugs”,
He feigns regret and gently shrugs.

Solicitors vaunt and huff and sneer,
Noses high, they seek out fear,
A chance to cut down boys in blue,
To pick at what they thought they knew.

The nurse tends to a frightened girl,
Who in an instant changed her world,
When she finally struck back at her man,
With kitchen knife in battered hand,
She sobs inside the four white walls,
Ignoring all the caterwauls,
For her, the earth has slowed and stopped,
Hushed ’til you can hear pins drop,
Nought exists inside her head,
Save faint relief and panging dread.

The others? Perhaps they’ll never change,
But she will never be the same.

napowrimo2015Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge was to write a Clerihew. A whimsical, four-line biographical poem invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley. The first line is the name of the poem’s subject, usually a famous person put in an absurd light. The rhyme scheme is AABB, and the rhymes are often forced. The line length and meter are irregular.

I had already written the above poem when I read the prompt, but thought I’d include a clerihew based on the same theme. You can see it below:

Lorena Bobbitt
chose to cut it off and lob it,
Could take no more
of the abuse that she endured.

Dysmorphic

It’s a dark, dark road
that you venture down
when you can’t even look yourself
in the eye,
When the words ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’
explode
like landmines
in your mind
every time you look in the mirror,
When you’d rather
rip your flesh and
gouge out your eyes
than have to look a second more
at what you’ve become,
When you punch the fat
hoping that it will vanish,
When you punch so hard
that you might throw up
(and somewhere inside a voice is
lurking
sneering
taunting
“that might actually
do your fat arse some good”),
When you’re jealous
of those with a tummy virus,
When you consider buying laxatives,
When you eat your lunch
and then you start to panic
and you hate yourself,
And hate yourself,
And hate yourself
until it’s dinnertime,
And the cycle starts again,
And again,
When you won’t let him
see you naked
because you
know
he’ll be as
disgusted
as you are,
When you won’t even let him
touch you,
When your skin crawls
at the very thought
of him feeling those
lumps
and
folds
Yes;
It’s a dark, dark road,
And no help is coming,
Because no-one knows
that you’re so far
from home.

Autoimmunity of the Mind

I’m on the precipice
of an explosion,
Complete soul erosion
and a loss of control,
Autoimmunity
of the mind,
Impunity is blind,
Cannibalistic thoughts
that could swallow you whole
disempower each other
– they devour each other –
before they can fruit,
A dissociative fugue
that calls into question
the need to…
reboot?
But with no memory
of sanity
and no manner
of clarity
surely that point
is
just
moot.

Happy Place

In my happy place
is where you’ll find
the detritus of my soul
my mind
has ruptured
and its capillaries pour
– with every ebb –
waves of life into the cyber void
and snag
– with every flow –
the single threads
that once wove my soul
into the fabric of this time
and there you’ll find
not a person
but a shadow
a whisper from behind the screen
unstitched
unhinged
unseen
the remnants of a being
tightrope walking
this way
that way
unbalanced
yet perfectly
formed
inside this tangled web
in this expanse
of ink as flesh
and pixelated sinews
stretched
beyond composure
barely clinging
yet still winning in
the war that none can see
the devil’s greatest trick
is the mantra
of this disease
the anchor
in this melancholy scow
a vessel that is empty yet
somehow
so full of
bitter truths
and weighed down
with lies that lie untold
secrets will unfold
if the question’s ever broached
until then I’m all alone
in my happy place
because no-one
ever knows
just how to
ask
just how to take a
quick
yet monumental
peek
behind the mask.

Brain Storm

It’s raining inside my head.

Pouring.

I can feel each drop
as it cascades through my mind
forming translucent sheets
of icy coldness,
sharp as knives,
that flood the echoes of my consciousness
while a cackling clap of thunder
drowns out
every
rational
thought.

Then a sudden bolt of lightning
illuminates a cavern
in the corner of my memory
that I had taken to be lost.

And in the unrelenting rain
that has now shaped a spiteful sea
and amidst the harrowing
rumble
of the storm,
that fleeting flash of light
found a minute memory
of you and me
that was vague and long forgotten.

But still it pulled me to its harbour
into the eye of this great storm
where it held me in an
unexpected calm.

All that chaos
all around me
and I found comfort
reminiscing
in an us
from long ago.

And in that eerie respite
at the centre of this tempest
I found my
peace.