Defining

Staggering in a field 

A deer paths its way.
Aimlessly trudging through high grass
No longer aware of the birds above

Dropping its guard the creature 

Keels over giving itself unto fate
While the calmness of the dry air soothes its passing. 

Dusk shining its last light reflects
On the eyes of the transient being.
A soft wind creates waves in the grass
As a blink in the eye of a now weary head
Slows the heart at its core.
A gentle breath renders a close to being.

Don't you realize.

.

I can't sleep.

My mind is running.

I have a hole in my chest and I feel absent.

I want to escape.

Find shelter.

Disappear in the darkness behind my closed eyes.

Why do I feel so alone?

Its hard to fathom a day with sunlight tomorrow.

A day with solace.

Festering and rotting my insides like a vial of poison within me.

Blink, phase out.

I can't.

Why not?

You know why.

Its not the end. Its far too hard to tell.

But its so easily related to what I've seen and experienced. How could you say things will be fine? You know the past.

I do.

Then where is your hope?

Where it should be. Be glad you still feel.

Creative

I can't remember the last time I did something creative.

I don't have it in me anymore.

I often find that paths of helping people are spoken of to help those depressed.

I wonder now, why it is I don't believe it?

Maybe because I've done it so often before.

I know I enjoy it when the moment arises to do good.

But I can't remember those good thoughts during the day.

Maybe my depression is coming from fighting the flow.

The flow of my life, and where i truly am.

Maybe I need to accept what I don't like and find new ways to get around those obstacles.

And I feel the only way of doing that is trying new things.

One day ill get tired of eating paper.

Introspection

I mask feelings in
Drinks and fleeting pleasures
Rather facing myself in a mirror.
I hide from responsibility
As it calls for recollection
Of this man beyond the reflection.
I've become so easily shaken,
Cracking under
The weight of a feather
Only to be better
After a night of sleep
The reminiscing reminder
Of being 6 feet deep.
No names, no feelings,
No reasons, no meaning.
A place where there is
No weakness in retreating.

Forth

I battled in my head the thoughts that were making me angry. As I drove I'd pay attention to every last person's detail to the road. It infuriated me. People driving slow, driving in and out of lanes, and so on. Thinking now how they could get away with breaking the law and feel so absent minded about the world probably struck me sub consciously.

I spent the afternoon with my mother.

You should do this.
You should talk to your cousin.
You should not worry about your criminal record.
You should take it easy.
You should pray to god.

All on top of her broken English. When she speaks it's so mentally intensive to understand it wears me down trying have a conversation.

I avoided eye contact the entire encounter. It hurt me inside to know I owe her everything. Her support with money and giving me food.

Dig

Wanting something new.

I couldn't stand being around anyone today. Everything felt like fire in between my fingers. I cringed when I woke up to a fridge of things I found bland. There were some eggs in cartons. eggs in a jug. eggs in a box. eggs in a bag, and eggs wrapped up tight. I thought of how I was hungry, but couldn't find anything but eggs to eat.

 Pain pressed in my mind and stomach thinking of how I'd lose weight.

I saw my phone had messages from people who adored me, but feared the thought of responding to them. My manager asking if i was coming in from the night before. My friend asking if we were to drink tomorrow. I can easily say I hate interacting with people when they expect things of me.

I had to wake up early and get my cousin's car cleaned, it had mold in the backseat. I lacked sleep and drove half an hour west on a highway. The morning was beautiful. I could see why the elderly loved it so.

I came back home to sleep late into the afternoon finally messaging my friend after 16 hours had passed since he messaged me. He said he thought I was dead. If I read that now, I'd think I already am.

I had to go to a meeting for my drug recovery program. A constant reminder of how the system is ever so fucked up. I sit, looking at all the faces of kind people. Kind as they may be, I didn't want to hear a fucking sentence about their life. Of course that's what we were there for.

I feel bad for the people in my group, I do. But with my experience thus far... The more I hear about how shitty people's lives are, the less I care.

Sure let's stay around for a fucking extra 15 minutes after an hour and a half. And then we'll talk about things I don't have and can't have because pot is such a menacing and devastating drug. Sure! Yes! Let's do this!

I'm becoming so disassociated with life.

I day dreamed on the way home from the meeting of a life where i'd just buy a motorcycle and drive off. Anywhere. Get a small job and leave all my friends and family. Live by myself in solitude. Thinking now of how hard life would be on my own makes me want to take my own life.

things i'm grateful for:
a bed.
a computer.
games that sometimes make me happy.
a phone.
a nice car.
a friend who is a mechanic.
warmth when i sleep.

You're far too cold for me to feel fulfilled.

Gruesome

Cracks of stress
Destroy the surface
To partialize and fragment
Something that was once whole.

But it is just the action
Of releasing pressure.
A resolve to a
Once bounded force
Now free to separate further
That which cannot be.

So I ask if i am flexible and
Fully intact, or dispersing
Farther and farther becoming
Unrecognizable.