Suicidal

i’m tired
completely worn out
after hours of distress
no christmas dinner for me
haven’t caught a bite to eat
between the suicidality
and avoiding the police
wasting away this christmas day
lost on the verge of
a fraying mentality

i should be dead
how do i keep pulling through?
this weird instinct is wired
all wrong
i fight to stay alive
meanwhile, i’m fighting to die

Christmas Morning Bleugh

i’m 23, its Christmas
i wake to the perpetual pain
lingering underneath
my shoulder blade
today is just another day
stabbing physical discomfort
emphasises the anxieties
of this damned holiday

i’m already staring
endlessly
into this void on my phone
to drown out the memories
the voices
the sounds
i may not get out of bed today
not even to lounge around
i have hope i can be happier
hope I won’t be depressed next year

Seasons Remorse

Christmas brews steadily
midnight hour draws nigh

meanwhile
I’m still here
at the brink of the world
legs slung over the edge
about to fall and die
as the panic from today
bluntly refuses to subside

too depressed to think
too empty to care
Christmas is so lonely
when you’re sick
and can’t feel cheer