deepundergroundpoetry.com

The trials and tribulations of a depressive. i.

I have written
thousands of words
and spoke few.  
 
My opinions
do not matter
I do not matter
I am a ball  
of strangely  
arranged energy
 
A brain
that thinks
it knows better
than my heart.  
 
It usually fucking does...
 
I miss the
way separation
anxiety was the
only wave
of the stuff that
hit.
 
Now, I can't even
order a coffee
properly

 
I
  s t u m b l e  
over the names
of coffees from
lands not my own
without knowing
where I come from.
 
Your Mother's cunt
is not an acceptable  
answer, dipshit.

 
-----  
I am tired  
but it is not
a sleep deprivation  
sort of tired.  
 
it's the psychological  
weight pushing itself  
down through my body and
settling at my feet
only it rocks in  
my ankles so  
I can't step
on it.  
 
I need the sun
my own
company
good drinks
beautiful cigarettes  
Parliaments?
No sir, I smoke  
Marlboro's or  
Rothman's

 
My hands are
always cold  
my heart is
always warm
 
because it longs
to reach into an abyss
and find something  
Anything...
 
My insides
are a sore
My outsides
disgust the eyes
 
I wish I wasn't
scared of leaving.  
I wish I wasn't
scared of leaving
people behind.
 
I wish I didn't have
a backlog of failed attempts
that put me  
off.  
 
I'm finished with
the world but
it is not  
finished with
me.  

---------------
Yes I'm aware of how shit this is.
Written by Undivided_Praxis
Published
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