Depression | Part 2

Dear silent lover, 

For whoever, it may concern as I cannot form a shape or name to the image of something so constant in my life. And I address you dear for the fear you left me bubbling in the pit of my enclosed perimeter, where I built walls so that no one can access it; but here you are. With a smile so pure, that venom drips from the corner, tinkling my innermost rivulet, to let go of the emotions that I have bundled up in a reservoir that has a limit before it might explode.

I have forgotten the hang of writing letters, or poetry for that matter. But the more I am with you, in the shadows of a full moon night; I get to feel the birds ringing in my cerebrum. The warmth your care provides endangers me to give up and roll in the blanket of your quirky laughter and just… be. 

For millenniums, I have become a sculpture for your love to be moulded into the shape you want. Now, that I am what you wish for… I suddenly became your reason to be rapturous; while I tarnish the image of being good and morbidly happy.

For you, I have let my guard die in front of my own eyes and the stippling kisses leave an everlasting mark on my skin, so pure, so real; that I can’t believe when it’s over, I can still feel you and nothing in the form of words can I ever describe. 

Dear dearest, take me, leave me naked and bare me to the stars above and leave me in the bed of roses for your anger to be unleashed and be finished with this demurring ecstasy. 

For I am nothing but a petal in the eyes of you to be fallen in love over and over again, even though I doubt if I will ever be good enough.

Dear anxiety, depression, sadness, loneliness, and all things ugly but great teachers… I present you this!

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Depression|Part 1

sunset love lake resort
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Depression.

What is the meaning of the word depression? I don’t know. There is no definition that I am happy with. There is no fit explanation that shall define depression in a single line.

Depression is a multi-emotional drama. Just like our fingers and fingerprint varies; the emotional value and features associated with depression varies.

It’s no big secret that people who are going through depression are… misunderstood, mocked, belittled and ignored. 

When a certain feeling triggers the mind of a depressed person; he or she is in a state of frenzy. A state of mind that makes it a ‘live or die’ moment. They might be drowning while everyone else is perfectly swimming. Or they might be burning when the temperature for that day was fixated as normal and pleasant. 

They might be in a fit of emotion that the first thing, most of them approach is food. Comfort food. Those who misunderstand eating disorder should really understand that Eating disorder is not a preference. They are not enjoying the moment they indulge in an unhealthy eating spree. 

The first thing you should understand from the pattern of a depressed person eating is that; they are not civilized, there is no portion control and they are like robots who don’t know when and how to stop. The brain doesn’t register. All the brain knows and feels at the moment is a comfort. A state of ‘lie’ that makes the body feel oblivious to the feeling of anxiety.

However, as soon as they come into their mind; it is too late. The stomach cramp along with the guilt in losing their control makes them feel worse about themselves. And they enter into a period of nothingness.

Simply nothing. They don’t feel anything. They don’t get up in time. Doesn’t sleep in time. Doesn’t sleep on time. A state of utter shock and confusion.

While they are slowly climbing back up the stairs to feel an atom of sanity; the world had already moved a millennium away. Looking around; everything feels different and everyone has reached a point in their life which was their dream.

And what happened to the dream of the said depressed person? They didn’t have one. The one they had; got lost in the basic to-do list they had to complete. For example… take a bath.

in a matter of seconds

Photo by Rahul on Pexels.com

evening fades into my eyelids
as I close another chapter
with torrid metaphors
scalding the inner walls of
my sacred tomb

and the wings are being ripped out
by the scavengers
with eyes the shade of my
darkest fear

listen,
this silence is beating against
my ribcage
and I am being pulled by
her nightmares again

…Parted mirage…

pexels-photo-164531.jpeg
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

the lonely shadow
stood barefoot
in the muddied grass,
looking forlornly
at the looming paved ways
in front of his
blurring vision

frustration building up
like mutating cells,
fuelled his barren thoughts
with rage

grabbing thin air
in progression,
his fists curled inward
holding all the words
the tongue couldn’t
spit out

windswept hair
still circled,
unsure, which way to move
to shelter themselves
from the ire within

but…

minutes later,
silently,
his lips parted to
paint a deep sigh
into the cloudless sky
and he chooses to close his eyes
as he move forth

for the crossroad
directions
didn’t help him either.

••• silver sanity •••

 

user img
the doors to my cathedral
were open with haunting symphony
echoing in between
galaxies and hallucinations

I bathe in silver beam
as the sun spits out monochromatic
drool of endless summer

but

the sweet divination
of the moon
in between cold burst of silent synergy
had me gasping
underneath myriad of stars;
surfacing
with a new wave of energy

…another dawns breaks into her hair, bleeding nothingness…

monochrome photography of sad woman
Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy on Pexels.com

you ever heard
of that annoying click
of a wacky keyboard
at three in the morning
where a forlorn ghost
tries to knock
on the barren wall
for umpteenth time;

yet, the backspace
giggles as she race
down the words
into large pile of trash,
making clean white lines;
which needles of a bored clock
snort
converting… prose

ii

midnight
is for lovers
that make love to rattling silence
as each held a cigarette
with its white horse
marrying the dust-
settling over life
of the just breathing mannequins;

and the eyes of the painter
smoothens smudges
created by her own careless
blotches of mascara,
sighing into nothingness
smashing butt of the smoke
into palette
of misspelled promises

iii

the hour speaks
less of a story tale
as the cast of her brain’s charade
falls dead
into her bare arms

with a broken bit of charcoal
and endless wit of a dirty coffee mug

iv

her sigh sent chills down the hallway
like an echo

as she collects monochrome
to paint a happy smile
over the rich tones
of another unhappy
dawn

_________________________________

Writing after so long…. So damn long…. Too far away from good! but I am keeping this for now.

Faded

Related image

there is a poem
inside my bones,
wriggling
to let go…
the metaphors
plays a master plot,
in water coloring the secrets
on my skin;

I feel the waves
crashing inside my ribcage
as I search
the direction where your footprints faded

for eons
I held my breath
and now that you cut off the string;
I was let go
like an untied balloon.