Tag Archives: mental health

Safe House

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I got a safe house,

and it’s not what you’d expect.

It’s made of paper,

and it’s hidden underneath my bed.

I got a safe house,

and it calls to me.

When I’m in the dark and all alone,

somehow it sparks a fire in my soul.

I got a safe house,

and it wraps its walls around me.

I’m on the sacred ground of poetry.

No lies, facades; it’s purity.

And when I’m at my lowest,

sinking down beneath the floor,

I ask God to come and save me,

but he gives me something more.

He gives me talent; He gives me a voice.

It may not come from my throat,

but it sure as hell speaks more.

Yeah, I got a safe house,

and I’ll camp out until the day is done.

I’m losing all my wars,

but the battles are always won.

Meet me at the safe house.

I’ll put the fire on.

We’ll get warm and settled,

and forget we are someone

who has doubts and problems.

Don’t worry, my safe house will solve them.

We’ll be okay,

in the arms of these words.

They’ll hold on and won’t let go

until we are ready and we know

that we can always come back

to the safe house.

Addict

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Let me tell you about the sad life of a sad addict.

She still seeks it, even when she has it.

And when she’s had it, she wishes that she hadn’t.

But when the sun rises, she’s right back at it.

She’s not addicted to the drug.

She’s addicted to the escape.

Depression is her catalyst,

and it’s fueling her mistakes.

For those who care to unravel it,

they’ll soon be able to see her fate.

A long, dark, and winding path.

She’s lost all vision and heading towards a crash.

When it’s all said and done,

she’ll have gotten what she wanted.

The death to her depression,

and another wasted lesson.

She chose it first, and it chose her last.

A downward spiral that happened all too fast.

Love is lost, and love is broken.

Her wants and needs will forever go unspoken.

It takes strength to tell another;

even more to ask for help.

Release the burdens of a mother,

and all the pain she has felt.

An impossible task, perhaps out of reach.

With the right support,

addiction might be beat.

Stay clear, stay healthy, and stay wise.

You’ll never know when there won’t be a next time.

Message in a Bottle

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Can I bottle up this stress?

Place it in a bottle and seal it tight?

Can I drop it into the depths of the ocean

and have it gone overnight?

Unload my burdens and my heartache,

and watch as we part ways?

If I had to write a message,

I’m not sure what it would say.

Probably reference a perfect storm,

one that wouldn’t drift away.

Although this seems ideal…

how would someone else feel?

When they open up this bottle

seeking treasure or hope,

only to find complaints, worries, and woe.

It’s the easy way out.

Staying on the shore while your pain sets sail…

off into the sunset; watching as they fade away

onto another person, onto another land, onto another sea.

As long as they’re gone, they won’t affect me.

Right?

Is it emotional immaturity, naivety, or insecurity that’s bringing me down?

Financial instability, lack of growth, or is it my loss of creativity

that’s hurting me the most?

Either way I spin it, I can’t seem to land

my feet on the ground.

No bottles, no life rafts, not a single soul around.

I can’t save myself and I can’t sink others.

I know that storm will linger.

I’ll stop running away and just take cover.

Vacancy

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I started writing this way back in January of this year. I finally finished it not too long ago, in June. Honestly, the delay is very fitting considering the theme of this poem. It’s been a struggle to declutter my head and the detrimental negativity that’s clouded my life. I’m here. It’s getting better. More rooms are opening up for bigger and brighter things, and the anticipation is extraordinary.

Cheers.

I’m in need of some vacancy.

My mind has been too full lately.

My trauma hasn’t paid a dime.

He’s committing theft, amongst other crimes.

My tenants have tunnel vision.

Endless sorrow, that’s their mission.

Depression occupies the big suite.

Anxiety rests on the balcony.

Paranoia guards the front doors,

with desperation as its floors.

Joy has been begging to come in.

The other tenants simply won’t let him.

They fear he’ll set the house on fire,

and he will leave no survivors.

What can I do to sneak him in?

I’d light the match and start over again.

I’d have love stay in the big suite;

creativity on the balcony.

Aspiration guards the front doors,

with motivation as its floors.

Joy fills the air in every room.

Finally, my soul will begin to bloom.

The fire that caused death,

bore life.

Bricks

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They say I’m not the same.

But who was I to them?

Did I know her?

Did I truly know her then?

Is it fair, to compare

a past life to the present?

Progress is not definitive.

Failures just mean I’ll win again.

I’ve been my own wolf in this fairy tale.

I knocked every house down.

I pointed fingers and forgot my own.

Think smarter not harder, they say.

Well, I cut far too many corners that way.

Do you claim the life you’ve built?

How heavy is your shame?

How heavy is your guilt?

It’s time to find your bricks.

Start with one, then continue on…

Your life isn’t a race.

It’s trial and error…

a loaded concept you can finally embrace.

I’ll be building this home until the day I die.

I can say I’ll have it finished, but we all know that’s a lie.

Sorry

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I’m sorry for the way you forgot your worth.

I’m sorry for all the pain I wouldn’t cure.

I’m sorry I always told you “it could be worse.”

And I’m sorry that you’ll never say these words.

_________

You had me walking on a tight rope.

And just when I learned to balance,

you cut it in half, with such purposeful malice.

You had me wear a tight rope.

And when I learned to breathe more and panic less,

you tied it tighter around my neck.

Either way, you wanted me to fall.

Fall, fall down to my death.

_________

I’m sorry for all the weight you gained.

I’m sorry that mentally wasn’t enough; I needed a physical change.

I’m sorry I felt you were beneath me, and chose to show you all the ways.

And I’m sorry you couldn’t say sorry, even on a good day.

_________

You had me driving a rigged car.

And when I learned how to stay on track,

you shut off my brakes and revved the gas.

You had me sitting in a rigged car.

And just when I started to appreciate the views,

you’d swerve and take them away too.

Either way, you wanted me to crash.

Crash; rid of me at last.

_________

I’m sorry for all the nights I left you to cry.

I’m sorry I chose to drink instead, and make you wonder why.

I’m sorry I deleted all the messages, and continued to lie.

And I’m sorry you’ll never feel sorry, no matter how hard you “try.”

_________

The cruelest part is that I’m free from you now,

but with every day that passes, I have to fight to heal.

You left me so damaged, and so broken,

that now I beg to question if a person’s kindness is real.

Had I known I was on death row,

I would’ve at least asked for a last meal.

Quilt

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Quietly,

I sit and sew this quilt.

Wish I could stop,

both the sewing and this guilt.

Equal,

was no patch.

All, a different trauma than the last.

Quietly,

I sit and sew this quilt.

Wishing for a pop of color…

only to get a charcoal gray, and then, another.

Frequently,

I’ll sneak a yellow in the yarn.

Only to be ruined by a drop of red,

thanks to self harm.

Quietly, 

I sit and sew this quilt.

Mourning not my death, but rather this life I built.

Hoping I sew together the very last patch,

and tomorrow begin another,

a fresh start,

at last.

Off

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Hazy. Hazed. Haze.

Sums up my lazy days.

Blurred beyond borders,

yet stuck in this corner.

Crazy. Crazed. Craze.

Sums up my manic days.

Missing mellow middles,

having cried, a little.

Lying. Liar. Lie.

Tell the room that you’re fine.

Seeking silent solace,

having known I lost it.

Crying. Crier. Cry.

No one hears you at night.

Missing mellow middles,

having died, a little.

Nemesis

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Talk to me?

I’ll talk to you.

I think I finally know how to stand out in a crowd.

Please. Don’t make me laugh now.

You’re scared. You always were.

You’re lying! Wait. Are you sure?

Because this isn’t what I’m seeing.

Well, now it’s what you’re hearing.

Take it back! Hold your breath.

Why? So you can continue on in this nothingness?

It isn’t nothing when you’re something. 

Illusions are excluded.

It’s me! It’s true! They love the things I do.

So young; so blind. You’re never on their mind.

Why am I your prisoner, when you commit the crime?

Well darling, I am yours and you

are mine.

Jink

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It’s time.

Jink: a sudden quick change of direction.

Writing a song for this blog. I filmed myself on my laptop while writing this. It took 40 minutes. This is an anthem for me. I make “quick changes of direction” often. I am glad I do. Watching the video back, I am able to witness myself singing words straight from my heart. Words that I’m sharing with all of you. I’m happy I documented it. Here is my song, Jink.

Enjoy.

JINK

V1:

lying down on the bed,

another restless night

am i better off dead

how can i still fight

those battles I’m losing

the choices I’m choosing

will it settle my mind

will i sleep tonight

V2:

bottle of pills in hand

all the doubts are clouding

drift to a better land

my smiles are frowning

nauseous by the facade

time is low on the clock

have no time for pouting

time to make it stop

Chorus:

happy in the light, no one sees the dark

making all the appearances

joking over the seriousness

i can’t lie anymore

i can’t force open the door

asking for help is never my answer

always the advice

but it spreads like cancer

living in denial

living in fear

living in spite

of the loved ones i hold dear

i can’t help the feelings that i have

i can’t help that your help makes me mad

makes me mad

V3:

you don’t live through this

you just can’t understand

and now my pain is bliss

from drugs in my hand

should i go and swallow

my poor heart is hollow

is quitting really grand

tonight the pills drop

*Chorus*

V4:

i’ll pray another day

in the morning i’ll wake

there’s still fight left in me

it’s all up to me

one day i’ll become free

maybe it’s not the way

drugs shouldn’t be my escape

tonight i am safe

tonight, i am safe.

i am safe.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Until next time,

Lo.