depression

VACANCY

i am being crushed
by the weight
of your absence
and if it does not lift
i may never
stand again

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 24 April, 2017

SEIZED

I

am at

a complete loss

to understand the workings

of your mind; the cogs that turn

to wind your clock

have seized

and the only hands

that pass time now

are mine

alone

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 22 April, 2017

POSTERIOR SUFFERANCE

 

This night carries me,
blinded,
in the back pocket
of dirty minds and
shabby dreams where I
flat,
and molded,
press against this folded denim,
warm and splayed with
arms outstretched,
longing,
for another day; but

what if I turn my head
to over-peek the top
of these fraying jeans,
instead,
grasping threads
to keep me still within its seams
– will the exhilaration
of watching where I’ve
just this moment been
allow me inspiration
asleep awake, to boldly look,
clinging to the back end of
these thoughts that write me,
penned in ink,
like a pre-determined book?

Perhaps I should just
– winded –
forward face,
ignoring the sour stench
of this unmoving,
walking,
waking race,
stalking through the darkness
in a covered veil
at quiet pace,
destabilising future steps,
accepting this acquired taste,
processing my obsessive needs
and bathing clean my crumpled face
in chafing tears that fear progression,
awash, alone,
in one more nightly session.

Devoid of light,
here, ye, the theme:
this narrow, stunted, damned depression,
the fabric of a self made bed –
this
bottomless pit of expression
unstitching dreams of fortune
as I swelter, melting hope
again,
apathetic,
white of noise,
inside my broken head.

 

© Tamara Natividad | pisceanesque.com | Written 17 August, 2015