Introspective retrospective
inescapable dreamscape
makes your scars twitch with
discombobulated self loathing.
Memories stained with
fear mongering
innermost thoughts
and knifepoimt teardrops.
Insomniac, somnambulist,
can’t tell the difference,
doesn’t want to fall
because sometimes
all the time
the rabbit-hole leads
to reality.
© Emilie C. Black, 2020
There were flashes of darkness
In between the whirring of electric lights
And the hunger pangs of newborns,
In between the screams of neon sirens
And the late and live music of whisky and wine,
In between the negotiations of mice and owls
And the hard labour in the room next door.
Which might not amount to much,
But even a little of a good thing
Is better than nothing, right?
I want to say yes,
But it’s only two-thirty.
Ten hours to go.
Sorry, not quite yet.
We need you to do something,
It shouldn’t take long.
The buses don’t run,
You’ll need to walk home, sorry.
Should take an hour.
Home at last, bedtime.
What’s that noise? No, it can’t be.
It’s time to get up.
I ask myself this every day.
Why Don’t I Want To Live?
I have spent too long awake
And my thoughts are travelling
At a million miles an hour
As I try to find an explanation
To justify the non-extinction
Of myself.
Please forgive the 1am ramblings
of this shell before you
But I feel a need for an
Inevitable confrontation
And elaborate invocation
Of my feelings
Dear myself,
Why don’t I want to live?
Seriously, please tell me
Because I’ve got enough going on
And I was going so strong so
Why here and Why now?
I have more than I
Feel and deserve
And life lately has been
As easy as soft-serve
Ice-cream because I’ve been
Pretty smooth and chill
I’ve got a job and an income
Friends I can rely on
So why is my mind
Greyer than the
Aberdeen skyline
In September?
There’s a roof over my head
And pillows and a bed
Yet a lead-lined shadow of doubt
Has cut its claws into my shoulders
And I adorn it and crumble
Under the weight of this dark cape.
Why don’t I want to live?
When my mood started cycling,
I started using training wheels
To keep balanced
But there is still a white light
At the end of this track that I’m riding
I have tried to hop, skip and jump
From pity, misery and responsibility
But my physicality and mentality
Are in a separation battle
And the judge said
They can have me on alternate days.
I have syringed the serotonin
From my brain and painted it on my door
And immersed myself in the real world,
And attended firework displays of
Fluoxetine, clozapine and amphetamine
But dark smoke has choked the chemical light.
Why don’t I want to live?
Am I averse to positivity
Or have light-headed thoughts
Been pit against a heavy heart
In a rigged boxing match
In my skull?
Are my thoughts made of
Shadow puppets
Which can only be cast
With the setting sun?
Even though a shadow of a shadow
Creeps in with the dawn through my curtain.
Or is it more likely
That a material life
Is unfulfilling
And the things that I want
Are not what I need
And depression is more than a metaphor?
Why don’t I want to live?
Why don’t things work
the way that they should
And why do I feel that
I should feel better
Because I have it better than others?
Why are questions easier than answers,
Why is sobriety so hard and
Why won’t this negativity shut up?
Why am I writing a letter to the
Voices in my head asking them to explain
Why we want me to die?
Because I don’t think you understand the
Gravity of the situation,
We live in this same body so
I feel that’s a cause for consternation
For you right now because
I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t.
What is wrong with me
What is the reason
What is the point
What is the answer
Why don’t I want to live
I don’t know.
Mxcellany - Poetry, Music, Art 