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

The Cost of Living

I just received an invoice in the mail
$97 owed to an accident and emergency centre
For when I showed up distressed
Near the end of November
Asking for a quiet place to sit
While my panic attack rode out
And I regained the will to live

This country has medical funding
To ensure good health is maintained
Because accidents do happen
It really is a shame
That the place that I took solace
The place I thought was safe
Has been stripped from my breast
Due to monetary strain

I’ve unintentionally become a suicidal maniac, been having to go to a lot of medical departments recently.. I think this was an admin screw up but I’m too sick to deal with it or even pay it ugh

In Therapy

What is it like there
In that world of your own?

It’s darkness succeeding
To hone in and grow

Dissociation and darkness
Have named it their home

The spirit of adventure
Subsides to faint glow

A flicker of courage
Though no ounce of hope

It’s all that’s been left here
It’s all that I know

Daily Heart Attack

Waking up is painful
Dry eyes roll back in my head
There’s a tightness in my chest 
Heart palpitates fitfully in distress

This constant heart attack of mine
Is frightening all the time
From this perpetual anxiety
When will I ever be freed?

The Void

You might know how it feels 
To always be a mess 
A cacophony of chaos 
And forever quite distressed 

You may know the discomfort 
That lurks in empty chests 
The sense of losing touch 
As though there’s no one left 

But hang in there they’ll tell you 
A bouquet of love struck lies 
Their pain you must avoid somehow 
It’s a wonder you’re still alive