Tag: depression

The Lines We Cross

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Ever since we met, I have been cursing the devil

Because no decent god could have made me this broken.

My ego often consumes me like a ravenous ghoul,

But I shush the vile thoughts and mind the words that are spoken.

The cycle repeats, yet the time spins backwards,

And if I touch that flame now, it will scar my descendants.

If I pull back my hand, if I contain this deep madness,

Can I return to my gods and my fresh independence?

The line I cannot cross has encircled me like a target.

Just one gust of wind, and I will lose all of my grace.

There is a list I keep of people who will not forgive me.

When I look at you, I see each and every face.

-Jackie

The Haunting

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Photo by Eugene Golovesov

There was a chill in the sigh that escaped your lips

Before your words drove blades into my bruised neck.

I thought I knew it all back when we built this ship.

I thought we could find a shore if I stayed on the deck.

My fingers wore your calluses like they were jewels,

The moonlight made my dark worries seem too small.

While I was asleep, you took the profits and tools,

And you hid the last prophets in my bedroom walls.

“A willing participant, a creature well below me.”

Did I will your cruel plans into my tranquil life?

Once they bury me, will they think of me as a trophy?

Will they ever find the chains, the cages, the knife?

-Jackie

Bed Rot

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Shadow of a person wearing a crown
Photo by Kristal Tereziu

Thoughts of my younger self haunt me like fury and bloodlust.

Back then my pale neck ached from carrying sapphire crowns.

These days every sentence feels like a trap that will snap me,

And words slide in between my ribs until I bleed nouns.

My smile is drawn on every morning, not that it matters.

There are holes in my story but no one checks alibis twice.

There is a rope wrapped around my waist leading ambitions nowhere,

I wish this sadness was not a knife, wasting me slice by slice.

Those hot tears I once cried now give me frostbites each morning,

The bed rot consumes my heavy bones each night.

I used to think that sunrise could cleanse my chest of this sickness,

But it takes more than time to get to the gleaming light.

-Jackie

Taker

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Photo by Alexey Chudin

If I tell one more story in these lines,

If I give you another paragraph of tears,

Will you stop the rising tide?

Will you watch as I choke, then disappear?

I give away details like cheap candy

Just to end up with the short end of the stick.

You strip away my kindness when it is handy,

Then leave me shivering and sick.

If I answer one more overpriced question,

If I gift you the last pieces of my soul,

Will you compare me to pure perfection?

Or will you promise that a man can make me whole?

I have nothing but sheer numbness left.

I bet a better stranger will heal your bruises.

Go seek your vengeance or some real depth,

Turn my stories into twisted muses.

-Jackie

Destined To Fail

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Photo by Valter Zhara

Throw me a lifeline and watch me drown it in the sea.

Come save me in a lifeboat as I burn like a dry tree.

My journey is destined to fail before I pack the bags.

I hope they sell my clothes and bury me in rags.

-Jackie

No Recollection

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Photo by Alexey Demidov

I wish I could tell you a tale, but now it is all just a blur.

Finding my old self was much harder than losing her.

The roads I took still wait for me to pay them back.

I wonder if they will curse my spite and my hidden tracks.

Months pass and I stay glued to a screen at midnight,

Trying to overrule my thoughts, so tranquil and benign.

I know that she is still out there dripping paint on paper,

And I wish I could remember,

But my memory wavers.

-Jackie

Desert Island

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Photo by Christina Chekhomova

I wonder if all this emptiness I carry serves as my armor.

Am I saving myself or am I following the recipe for disaster?

Is there more to me than the nothingness and the roaring rage?

I feel like if I take a single step, they will burn this stage.

Therefore, I stay in place and wait for the waves to pass.

Some voices tell me that I am plastic, but I smell like grass.

These memories buried deep in my chest, they want out,

But the whispers are getting louder, so they avoid the crowds.

I wonder if all this loneliness will ever pay off my debts.

Will life come to collect or will it let love trap me in nets?

Everyone promised to warn me when the first cloud formed.

I feel like a desert island caught in the middle of a storm.

-Jackie

The Voiceless

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Photo by Nina M

Gasping for air,

It’s such a faithless affair.

You’re trying not to drown

As they drag you down.

You talk to yourself

Because no one can help.

The water is quiet,

Breath doesn’t defy it.

And nobody hears

As they break your spears.

Your throat is gone,

Ripped out by a swan.

-Jackie

Racing The Rats

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Photo by Fidan Nazim qizi

My tepid flesh is failing me,

My bones turn dry and frail.

I reached for visionary peaks,

Now I have a tiger by the tail.

My body took a hundred beatings,

It got used to my betrayals.

Will it survive another week?

Will it return me to the cradle?

I know I must stop the race,

Burn the finish line to dust.

My lungs will give up air

If I keep mixing love and lust.

Is there hope for the restless?

Do I deserve a gram of peace? 

My tired thoughts pull the lever

As I fall to my knees.

-Jackie

In This Dark Winter Palace

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Photo by Polina Chistyakova

In this dark winter palace I’ve built for myself

Spring only lives in books stocked high on the shelf.

The snow greets me, deceives me,

Makes sure no one sees me.

In this dark winter palace people don’t ask for help.

The red roses freeze alive and wait for the sun,

But I cut their corpses and stick them in guns.

The ice hides me, it tries me,

Ready to villainize me.

The red roses plan riots, but I can’t be outrun.

In this dark winter palace I’ve made from ashes

Neon poisons come from clouds in blinding splashes.

The cold pulls me and dulls me

Like I’m just a trophy.

In this dark winter palace fire dies as it catches.

-Jackie