Deary Diary, Dear Anxiety

An update in stanzas?

Here's a small collection of poems that I've written over the past year, bear in mind these are predominantly based on dark themes, so proceed to read with caution if you are easily mentally or emotionally triggered. Also although it may not seem so from this update, there are some days that I genuinely feel happy. Just a lot of days that I don't, too. But anyways when I do feel not so good, I write poetry to vent. My inspirations are people like Emily Dickinson for her structure or more specifically her lack of structure (which I adopt in my poems a lot of the time as its the best way for me to write without having to think, like word vomit except more artistic), and also Sylvia Plath for her use of images to convey a feeling that can't be easily explained. Anyway, if anyone enjoys any of these Id be really happy, seeing as they're my genuine 'word vomit' thoughts. Have a great day folks.

For a 'friend'

Chest constricted,

Light afflicted,

Almost suffocated.

Sounds dapple through the clouds

planes crumble through the sky-

Anger seeping from a lie;

A flower blossoms then it dies,

Almost wait for fireflies

To glisten in the sky

As petals drip like morning dew.

A new face,

A brighter name.

Let the old ones go;

They're not worth it anymore.

I'll bang my head against a wall

For things that were never said.

Or things I didn't do.

I had the opportunities,

Simply afraid

Or not scared enough -

I can't tell,

I won't say.

Can I stall?

Can I stall?

Can I be a moonlight corridor in July

Or a breathing monument of glory?

Can I be a bough on a stick?

Simply non existent self esteem,

Simply non existent who I'm trying to be.

Another day where I thought I'd be okay,

I'm reality I'm fraying at the edges

Of a two dimensional world

And there's nothing I can say to make it halt.

Stop, stop - I won't hear your voice again

telling me to stay sane, Trudging through a grey smog

Of things that were never said yet cloud my only pathway.

Tell me what I'm doing wrong.

God I miss you.I won't cry,I won't.

These are not tears - these are little hell lakes of acid

Trickling down a corpse.

I cannot stall,

I only fall.

When a girl met an analogy

I miss it.
I miss the way we met for the first time.
You were a golden sky of buttercups
And I was the mature one who pretended to be naive,
I still didn't know you had the upper hand,

And you sang me to sleep with your words,
Even though I couldn't hear them,
And they didn't make sense,
And you couldn't spell
Or we just stayed awake until late night's early mornings.

It's 3am and I miss it.
It's 4:27 and I miss you.
It's 5am and I don't know anymore.

I want some respite
But it's 7am.
And I'll plaster on a smile,
I'll fake a friendship.
I'm a crack in a ceiling who thought she could handle the weight but it's pressing down,
And I'm not sure if I can hold on for long enough to get the children out in time.
Or maybe that's not it at all-
I'm a fly caught in a web
And you imagined yourself as a spider.
But you're the housewife with a gun
With a scapegoat to my enemy.

Or perhaps I am who I am without an analogy.
I'm just a girl who thinks I can sing when all I do is scream inside my head.
But I still miss it.
And I will miss who you were.

No love for January

Shall I call myself ungrateful
For the love I receive?
January in greed
Black it out can't you see
I'm shivering, this lack of heat
Is quivering
A resolve to breathe -
February;
Giggling,
Reach a hand out.
Blue spots cloud vision -
Cloudy vision
A vision; only cloud,
Rain is on a mission
To pound me down.
Do I seem ungrateful
For holding my breath
Until the sun shines
Or flowers catch my eyes?
Catch me by surprise
And love me until I die.

Disjointed

Sorry, did I stutter?
I didn't realize I needed a label
in order to kill myself.
Oh sorry was I too direct?
Am I supposed to beat around the bush
with a rope around my neck?

Sorry I didn't get a diagnosis
before I got depressed
and anxious,
that I didn't try medication,
that I wanted to keep things quiet.

A secret.
I guess that means it isn't real?
I can be disregarded
by people who pretend to care-
a dark place with no way out
and none of the helping hands
that people talk about
in speeches and poems,
saying that 'mental health is a major issue
in today's society'-
or something like that
as they shake their heads sadly,
as they turn away.

And I don't cry.
I'll grapple my head
and try to tear out
my thoughts.
Irrational
I can't even control my limbs,
my mind is static,
electricity and erratic.
I would call it an inward scream
but I cant process that
when my brain is breaking down.

Sorry I can't reach out,
my eyes are closed -
and besides,
I don't think anyone is there.