10 reasons i can’t write poetry

  1. i’ve never had a natural gift for this. the words, yeah, they never came easy. they stumbled off my tongue onto the page and i hate the way they look, i hate everything i say. i wasn’t born for this. everything i know i had to learn, bit by bit, intuition gagged and blindfolded somewhere deep in my subconscious.
  2. but the only thing i hate more than myself these days is the people who read the wretched birds i make. who love them. who really, really try. they are just like me, doomed from the start. to trip and fall and ruin what little life they had. we won’t make it far.
  3. i can’t sleep at night, these days. just lie awake, churning. everything seems scarier in the dark. like university, like working, like selling off my dreams for 11.45. there’s no good way out of this, i think, with deep circles underneath my eyes.
  4. i can’t sit in my head too long without scaring my thoughts off. i never know, where the monsters hide these days. i never know, what to do when they come out of hiding, tails between their legs. what to say.
  5. the dreams that seemed so bright two years ago, they are burnt down in my palms like matchsticks. call it depression; or call it growing up. it is what it is. i am too tired to string these sentences together, and yet somehow still i can’t fucking quit.
  6. maybe i like the attention. maybe i’m five years old and burning, and maybe i don’t know what’s true anymore. what the hell is wrong with me. it’s spinning and blurred-out in some kind of sleep-deprived haze. everything i’ve worked for, what has it come to? it’s all dust in the wind these days.
  7. and baby, baby girl, i am not ready for all these grown-up things i’ve lusted after my whole life. i am gone before i’ve left the gate.
  8. i’ll get through it. i have to. but i’ll tear up some relationships along the way. call it collateral. call it irrelevant. hope you’ll find a way to forgive me for every crash-and-burn in the parking lot, every bruise on my knees. when i trip and fall, i don’t want to take anyone down with me.
  9. my throat aches and my eyes are fuzzy. i haven’t been feeling well of late. and they say depression is just another sickness, but it’s one that might never go away.  even though i did everything i should. i went to therapy, i poured my heart out on the floor. i tried every pill the doctor had to offer, and i still feel like shit. i don’t want to be miserable for the rest of my days.
  10. i haven’t been sleeping well of late. even though sleeping is all i want to do these days, close my eyes and blot out the stars. and never write another word again.

I wrote this while dealing with some pretty bad depression. I don’t know what to say–winter is rough, man. There are good and bad days.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s