Tag: depression

Look How Brooding (I Was)

I decided on the old spring cleaning today. More like my portable DVD player is gathering dust and I need to find its extension cord. So even though the ideas of what I want to write are running through my head at a blistering pace, like sperm pelting the floor at a bathhouse, I’ve taken the lazy way out and decided to throw up a few brooding poems from about five years ago. I think I wrote them in rehab, hence the plastic bed references casually strewn in there.

Disowned

Why do I work to escape this very moment
When all I should do is tuck it away
How come my darkest world shines so bright
When it only brings me the fear of my plight

The hate in my soul drips forth with blood
While the bluebirds may chirp
I sit here in your mud
It’s like one thousand flavors rattle my cage
Dairy Queen and Lucifer, One and the same

My chest collapses slowly
While I wriggle in pain
Two candy canes half eaten
Melting in the rain

..I feel for my pulse but it’s not to be found
I’ve been riding in your carriage too long
But my soul is nowhere around

You still plague my soul
Even from far, far away
The wax from your candle
It melts my nightmares
Covers up all this dismay

And I used to run, I used to fly
There once was a time I never cried
Your heart it stayed open
Your veins never closed
The moths gracing your light bulbs
They practically glowed

And one day I’ll wake up
Maybe I’ll even truely care
But for this moment in time
This moment I own
Alone in my thoughts
Even though my brain isn’t home

I plot and I ponder.
I sit and I stare.
The tadpole didn’t come home for supper
But I still feel him there

And I know this isn’t reality
Yet it’s certainly not a dream
Just a slice of delusion
In a cherry pie choking on whipped cream.

(And then there is this one below.  I never titled it. I hate titles. They should die.)

-UNTITLED-

All my Johnnys have gone away
While I sat staring out the window
Trying to breathe in the world
When all I saw was the lamp post
And your reflection in a puddle

Then I sailed across the ocean
Looking for you
Looking for him
I wondered where your trail of bread crumbs led
But they only formed some lost circle
Empty of my heart
Crashing up my car

I ate a sundae with marshmellows
It tasted like you
Or wait maybe like him
And I put on some Jimmies
But they were too sweet
You tasted so bitter
Yet it was my dream
I swallowed my dreams

The boat then crashed ashore
My holy father whipped me
I just wanted your chains
To cramp my style
You squeezed my soul so fine

But I’ve lost your scent
The moon doesn’t rise
And your face isn’t on my quarter anymore
Just another dead president

And one day I do know
That something will rise out of the sky
I’d just take the sun
But you are my God
I don’t know if I should try

Yet maybe it’s my destiny
Just smelling you out
I’m not sure though
Because it may not be you
Might have been him
Singing through the birds
Nestling in my head

The queen of hearts left my deck long ago
Suffering without anything to hold onto
My kingdom has lost its peaceful rest

BY SpaceDog 

Out of the Bubble & Into the Future: Contemplating 31 Years of Life

In several days, this Sunday to be exact I will be turning 31. While a lot of my friends in and around 30 complain to me about how they are getting old and how we are getting old, I see this as a new beginning for myself.

I have come to realize that too often in life I am not the person defining myself. I have far too often let others opinions define me, far too often have lived up to every role and stereotype they have defined for me. I am very tired of this.

I am very tired of the label placed on me as being depressed or being bipolar or as being epileptic. I am tired of being the quiet one, the drunk one, the slut, the alcoholic, the compulsive gambler, the unstable.

I have been all of these, yet I have been none of these. They run in and around and through me again. Still I am not as simple as any label. We label people far too often as to characterize them. For the purposes of public opinion this is a great thing but for society as a whole it truly sucks.

THE BUBBLE

I have been living in this rather unfortunate bubble that I fully put myself in, that I believe I wanted to be in for a very long time. I have let people tell me that I am consistently depressed. Maybe I am. I am not as book smart as I should be and I am not as street smart as many of the things in my life I have done should have made me.

The vast imperfections of the world have made me rather sad. If I thought about everything wrong all the time, well of course I would be sad. I am too educated of a person to not be effected otherwise. When you have had your hand in as many cookies jars as myself, it is only wonder that I have all of fingers remaining.

So there has always been something holding me back. Most of the time myself, but a great deal of the time it is something legally or financially. Now I am on the cusp of freedom and frankly I am very nervous. Not freaking out but very soon I will have the ability to pick where I want to live, to go where I want to go, and to be who I want to be.

I am not sure what town to go to or what city I should somehow surface in or if the people will be nice or if be there at all even. I firmly feel I can do this. I pretty much just showed up in Niagara Falls, NY (of all places) and made friends the first real chance I gave myself. They wanted me to move there and I wanted me to move there but I got myself into a mess by not thinking for myself, not being myself.

I wish it was just as easy as me going back to Niagara Falls and reclaiming what I feel that I somewhat lack in my current surroundings. It’s probably all still here inside of me but this getting 5 hours of sleep a night is not enough for me.

I wish I could just take an Ambien but most sleeping pills cause me to blackout and bring out my inner fat girl. Some of us don’t remember and wake up with a mustache like the Pringles guy, I wake up covered in Pringles.

Anyway I cannot wait to get my license back in PA. I have been talking about soooooo many creative ideas with one of my friends that I am going insane not being able to do anything about them. Well I can do something about them but I’ve done enough dreaming. I am ready to cascade the dreams into action.

Well I believe the zzzzzzs are calling me now. I actually think the wind is calling me as well. Where I fall I know not.

By SpaceDog 

Suicide and The Soul By Spacedog

Warning The following article deals with the subject of Suicide.
If your suicidal stop reading this immediately and
PLEASE GET HELP.
If your suicidal my point is you have nothing to lose so why not seek help?
Suicide is the one regret you can’t do anything about.

COMING BACK AS SOMEONE DIFFERENT

Recently I have had a complete change in my psyche.  I do not know if this is due to failed suicide attempts or perhaps a mid-life crisis.  I mean, don’t most gay people die when they reach the age of say 60 if they are lucky.  Most of us seem to pass on quietly into the sunset, be it as a whore or be it as an admirer of cashmere sweaters.
Anyway so there I was about one week ago in the hospital after taking a whole bottle of sleeping pills.  I do not remember much of anything as I went into a complete delusional state.  But when I came back from my so-called coma, nothing really mattered at that point, but in a negative way. My feelings disappeared from me.
So too has my common sense as to how to post a blog hence.  I wish I didn’t have to be so cold and emotionless.  The simple pleasures of food and of the flesh mean little to me at this point.  Sleep brings no more comfort, as my vivid dreams haunt me.  My days linger forth.
I wish I could be the person I was a month ago, but he is long dead.  But he is still in there.  It’s like my failed suicide didn’t kill my body.  It killed some of my soul, not all of it.  Most of it is dead now.

IMPORTANT: This happened many years ago, and Spacedog is very much alive and well today having wrestled his Demons under control.

-spacedog-