The stranger in the mirror wears my clothes,
although they’re tighter on her.
My diamond hangs round her neck.
She has different eyes:
Soft grey; a touch of storm.
Clear and deep;
Their murky film washed away.
She told me her name once,
and I laughed.
It didn’t fit anymore.
The sadness tapers off,
and the stranger
is stranger still .
creative writing, daily prompt, depression, eyes, health, life, mental health, mental illness, poem, poetry, recovery, writing
This smell of coffee and ice cold water;
that sound of my name falling off your tongue;
the world that’s opened in those big brown eyes.
Hell; apparently temporary
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Heavy lids on green eyes on grey matter.
Bitter tongue and burnt fingertips.
Hollow thoughts and weak limbs.
A full mind and an empty phonebook.
A life I miss.
And a series of lives I couldn’t.
There’s a devil caressing my spine,
spewing venom into my nerves.
It jumps at the back of my throat,
and laughs when I flinch.
Its cold grip holds my heart of ice in place;
and the disease spreads.
It freezes one cell
then the next.
And all you can do is watch.
I have all the help they can give.
And I’m getting worse.
And all you can do is watch.
In this building of nurses insisting I press the bell and let them help, the panic attack plays through without witness.
A midnight delivery scares the birds out of the trees and into the sky; free and flying and soon they will be calm.
Another minute passes. Another moment closer to morning. Another cry down the hallway from a man who doesn’t know what morning is
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An exercise in recognising strength
began with waking in a pool of sweat;
With a throat full of bile,
And a heart full of terror.
I killed four people last night.
I remember the tearing muscle
as I ripped the jaw off one;
The way I was hunted;
The way I was found;
My own jaw.
My own tendons.
And this morning-
I dressed and cooked and cleaned;
I brushed some dogs;
I wrote another thousand I’ll probably never publish.
I laughed a little.
My body count is long lost;
Maybe somewhere with my mind .
creative writing, daily prompt, death, dreams, mental health, murder, nightmare, panic attack, poem, poetry, prompt, revenge, sleep, strength
Are all fragile things
anger, anxiety, creative writing, depression, fragile, haiku, mental health, mental illness, poem, poetry, spilled ink
I’ve learned that hell is grey.
That the brimstone is cold and sharp.
That the devil himself weighs ten pounds;
And he sits in your stomach for months on end;
Setting cold fires;
Caressing your gut with his long,
He leaves you through the mouth;
Through the eyes.
He shakes you as he passes;
With talons in your nerves,
Leaving a trail of bile in places it doesn’t belong.
And when he is free;
He holds you safe
In a little box;
And he shakes you like an empty can;
And he sets you down disoriented on strange ground .
anxiety, creative writing, daily prompt, depression, devil, hell, life, mental health, mental illness, poem, poetry, spilled ink
Heavy skulls relieved of duty.
A thousand thoughts cast out,
in a cloud of bittersweet
addiction, anxiety, cigarette, coud, creative writing, daily prompt, mental health, mental illness, poem, poetry, prompt, smoke, spilled ink, thought, vice, worry, writing