S A D

My mind is a murky blend of distortion.

I can’t help but feel everything and everything is excruciating.

Nothing makes since and I am scared out of my mind of my mind.

My tears flow like stinking poison down my hot distorted face.

I run until I can’t breathe. Yet, I can’t escape myself. The monster and hero are one and the same.

Is this Fight Club? Do I have to shoot myself to get to the happy ending and kill that voice in my head?

Where did Marten go? He has always protected me from the others and now he is gone and I am left to fight alone.

Good, bad, day, night as soon as the light fades I can’t tell you the difference between any of it.

As the transformation hits the horror rips free of its chains and the heroin is left naked and afraid.

I am SAD so very SAD.

Me, but not Myself, nor I

I feel worthless. 

I feel stupid. 

I feel useless. 

I feel nothingness overcoming me and eating all of my 'goodness'. 

Despite how hard I try and fight, it's all for not. 

The change of seasons that kills the trees, in turn kills my spirit and traps me in a hibernation of depression.  

Frozen, in a self made tomb of self hate, as fragile as glass, and sharp as a knife. To insure to keep any possibility of help far from reach. 

Till spring can spring me from this morose penitentiary; I will be stuck with this sick and demented version of myself.

Depressed is the new black

Dare I look at myself in the glass to view, what a mess I have turned into? I look and see a figure that could be me, and I must confess that down and depressed fits me best. Dark and alone in this big cold home, that was once my castle,tall and full of laughter. After some time it was no long sublime and depression became my captor. He grabbed me up and my crown fell to the ground, then without my permission my castle became my prison. No matter what people do or say I cannot seem to get away. Encouraging words and genuine love is out there but, mean, twisted, harsh words is all I hear in my mind. I am afraid that some day the sadness wont leave and I will never return to me. Instead of looking for help, I sit alone with myself. Weak and frail, ugly and vile, worthless and broken, thoughts that I start to believe in. There was once happiness and confidence, now replaced with hate and loneliness. Eventually the depression cycle will end and I will return to me again.

Bleeding happiness

Depression strikes like a cobra with fangs lodged deep and venom flowing like a river in my arms to my heart and all I want to do is cut it out of me so I can feel happy again.

You and how you're being yourself...

I was told tonight "maybe you embrace yourself the wrong way". What? I sit here not quite sure how to feel. I know nothing. Fuck, I don't know how to be me at this point. So, the question becomes, who shall play the part of Martha? I can't imagine. Is it a hard role or an easily overthought role? What is it that I can't comprehend about myself?

Passerby's determination of me when I am dressed up in this dressed down dreadful dairy state of stupidity...

All dressed up like a stupid little slut!

Look at her luscious red lips, just begging to be bit and kissed.

She wears her clothes taut so you know how she likes to be grabbed and clutched.

Lest we forget that string of cheap pearls around her neck, says she likes when you choke her until her whore blue eyes water.

And those tights so tight across that ass and what an ass it is. Perfect to slap and spank and kiss and bite and fuck.

Oh that dirty little cunt!

Strut my way in your high heels of coquette confidence, so I can give you what you are showing everyone you obviously want.