Tag: mental illness

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

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

My Loneliness

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Photo by Sonya Borovaya

Paramours could not sweep me off my feet.

I was too busy chasing empty love.

Too busy to see what was hidden underneath,

Too proud to admit what I didn’t know.

Nothing has changed, I still stand tall,

And my heels are agents of disarray.

My loneliness burns down churches and malls,

Leaving devotees there to sulk and pray.

-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

Dancing With The Flames Of Hell

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Photo by Ekaterina Astakhova

I am left with no cards to play,

No petty tricks up my sleeve.

I watch as they sell my shoes

And sign me up for some schemes.

I thought heat would spare me

When I danced with the flames of hell.

My reasons got tangled up

And nobody here rang the bell.

The wrong crowds adored me

While the good ones all slipped away.

I thought the path found my feet,

But all roads were in disarray.

So here I am with no cards to play

And nobody to call a friend.

I stare as they choke my heart,

And I welcome the bitter end.

-Jackie

The Loop

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Photo by Ishara Kasthuriarachchi from Pexels

My bed has sharp canines, and it has a strong jaw.

It wraps its mouth around my weakened claws,

Reminding me through loud growls and moans

That all I have is myself, and myself alone.

My sheets have a poisonous touch, and it numbs me.

Before I know it, the fabric hits me like morphine.

I cannot move, so I just wait until it passes,

And the chemicals break my fogged up glasses.

-Jackie