I want to howl for the pain, strip down to all fours, bristle and fang, yowl like the dying for at least there's an end to that. I want to tear skin and flesh built over the years the cover the original me. The me who danced in summer rain, napped beneath swamp coolers, and … Continue reading I Want to Howl
Tag: depression
Whisper
Quiet, now. For once your fears or discomfort are whistled to, he shall deny them. But they shan't dissolve. So whisper to the darkness that something's wrong and let it echo back. Or perhaps the abyss will swallow it. So hush. For if wrong's swallowed you'll want it too, you'll lean over. But should someone … Continue reading Whisper
Son of Star
Ah, son of star I see you, up there, blinking and wavering from the constant burn. What you wouldn't give to fall from heaven and dive into the ocean. But the ocean is vast and dark and cold, and so very unlike the family of stars. Burning, as they may, from the essence of their … Continue reading Son of Star
Stuck in the Deep
What options are left in times like these? When I have sunken down so deep the sunlight cannot reach and I can't see any rising bubbles. I go right, it's still black I go left, might as well turn back, and, perhaps, I hadn't turned at all. So, do I sink or do I float? … Continue reading Stuck in the Deep
You Can’t Go Home
Why can't I go home? This war, someone died. There's blood-- it could just be red and I'm freaking out-- why am I freaking out? Can I come home? Because someone died and I wasn't made for this. I was made for mama's arms and the kitchen during the holidays and well worn sofas and-- … Continue reading You Can’t Go Home
We Manage Us
You make me queasy. You make me long to sleep the day away and never leave this quilted, padded hole, where no one can find me. You make me hurt. You make me dream of jamming screw drivers to my broken brain to dig out the part that malfunctions, no matter how necessary, so I … Continue reading We Manage Us
I Ache Tonight
I ache tonight. Take me down to a cool bed that isn't mine. Dress me up in a different time and call me by a different name, because I ache tonight within my frame, and cannot figure why. I ache tonight. So shroud me beneath ocean colors, seaweed arms to take me whole, and tie … Continue reading I Ache Tonight
Deeper Ink
I want my ink to be deep and wide that my words should look sure and unmovable, rather than a thin scrabbled mess meant for temporary notes and reminder. Perhaps then I'll have more say more control over what I write and how it moves my world. Perhaps, then, I'll adore those thick inky strokes … Continue reading Deeper Ink
To My Friend Named ‘Death’
Death, You see yourself as empty black stone; a building with no purpose. You claim the ground beneath your feet is thin, with flames beneath the surface. The days gape wide, swallow you whole, for you to past through half-digested out the other side, and you say you can smell the stench of yourself. Death, … Continue reading To My Friend Named ‘Death’
I Live
My breath tastes of green onion. Chai isn't enough to balm the taste. Desk lamps shine on lonely work, and I want to read to be taken away, but the clench the onion brings me back. I ate dinner. I function. I breathe. I live. And it sticks to me like green onion breath, overpowering … Continue reading I Live
Author T.S. Lowe 