Take the menacing blade of glass in my right hands that is erratically trembling
I hols my left arm on the floor and cut with the sharp blade cutting into my underarms
Laceration after laceration is made in another bout of euphoric self harm
Blood cascades from the deep wounds onto my wooden bedroom floor

I feel no pain the profusion of alcohol and painkillers numbs to the pain of this masochistic deleterious act
When I with reckless abandon are cutting into my underarm i feel alive
The pain of my depression is a transformed into a euphoric pure state of being
I’m able to articulate my self loathing my disgust my desire to not exist on my body

I purge this toxic suppressed emotion in a nighttime act i commit in secret
In the heat of the night I’m alive no longer trapped in anxiety laden numbness
Now i can succinctly visually communicate with myself the hell of my condition
Tomorrow i will be writhing in excruciating pain but now in the ecstasy of the midnight self harm I’m alive no longer feeling like a mindless zombie able through cutting into my ravaged body to transcend this emotionally constipated state and feel something anything

My Depression

My depression isn’t romantic its mind numbing boredom
Its waking up aching in pain with this weight in your bones
Its being able to leave my house for fear of a panic attack
Its eschewing looking into the mirror for fear of seeing the monstrous creature that will materialise in the bathroom mirror

Its going days without sleep climbing up the walls with anxiety
Its a perennial feeling of deadness living with emotionless numbed sensation
Its cutting my arms my legs to feel alive to feel a tactile sensation
Its laying in bed ignoring phone calls cutting out contact from the outside world

My depression isn’t a profusion of self pitying tears
Its quiet never engaging in effusive loquacious conversations
Its haunched shoulders eyes fixed on the ground
Its not being able to concentrate as the mind atrophies from the severity of my depression

I never disclose my depression i keep it hidden in the walls of my introverted mind
Nobody wants to hear my laments of emotional torment
The pain the god damn fucking pain is slowly killing me
My depression is like nuclear radiation infecting my organs over many years until one day this cancer of depression will drive me into the black hole of death


Laying prostrate almost comatose in my bed dreaming of death
Sick and twisted thought are ruminating in my mind
I cant move from the pain of this depression i want death i want to be nothing
I am already dead as the emotion has been vanquished from my body as this dead sensation permeates my entire being

Dreaming of all the myriad of ways of dying
Dreaming of dying in my sleep to never awaken to a cold world that has forsaken me
I have nothing no love no real family friends never call anymore
All i have is the fantasy of not existing

I lay horizontal for hours with a body burdened with sadness musing about the concept of death to not exist
To be a dream a distant fading memory to be pure nothingness to be dust
I want death there’s no reason to carry on existing living so listlessly trudging through life in endless cycles of abject despair
In my darkest dreams i take the sweet pill of suicide and get taken away by a dark shadowy masked figure he takes me away from the land of the living into the serenity the nirvana of death

Concealing My Disorder

I exist in this mask this persona that portrays a veneer of sanity
Behind the mask lurks a inner world of darkness with a pernicious social anxiety and crippling depression that i conceal from all of humanity
I go out to the world interact with friends smiling laughing concealing my pain never frowning never disclosing my acute social anxiety

I have this dread this constant fear of being found out
Of anybody discovering my fractured psyche discovering my anxiety
Hence I have constructed elaborate excuses when i suffer from extreme bouts of suicidal depression when I’m able to be a participator in life
To disguise my anxiety i have told friends that i am afflicted with asthma that’s why on occasion i have bouts of hyperventilating breathing when in reality I’m enduring a panic attack

Many times though i eschew public gatherings making up flimsy excuses for why i cant attend nights out
The depression is a lot easier to hide you can smile put on this facade of serenity to mask the inner torment lurking in the recesses of my mind
Anxiety is getting harder to hide with existing in public becoming more acutely onerous
Still i smile laugh conceal my extreme nervousness never letting the mask slip away I’m terrified of anybody discovering the shame of my disorder

He Shuddered When He Glimpsed My Face

I entered the door to my block of flats
A stranger a neighbour glimpsed my hideous visage and shuddered with horror
As I entered the door he was leaving and I perceived from his repulsed reaction to my deformed face
He looked at me with terror with derision

I was so profoundly embarrassed my our fleeting interaction
Running up the stairs to my flat entrance
Wanting to be far away from the vilifying stares of strangers
I entered the safety of my secluded flat and felt a tumult of self loathing pulsate in my body

The hell of being me living in this ugly unsightly body
Having a face deformed and malformed devoid of any beauty
Its why I’m alone living without love or sex
Its why a alluring stranger saw my face and felt a consternation just glimpsing my visage for a few seconds

For hours after this awkward encounter I fell into a deep depression
To assuage my inner torment i consumed a copious amount of alcohol to numb the pangs of sadness ruminating in my fractured soul
I then proceeded to cut my arms with a razor blade to feel something
This masochistic injurious act help to imbue me with some humanity after that brief agonising encounter had engendered in me a feeling of worthlessness that i was a grotesque freak discarded by society

Silent Hurt

I’m screaming nobody hears my forlorn cries for help
I bellow these laments of hurt that are lost in my introverted consciousness
The hurt the goddamn hurt the pain of being alive
Its inside of this interminable unexpressed suffering

Rather than express divulge my suffering i repress I retreat
I lacerate my arms in a masochistic act to feel my pain
I eschew talking to a therapist or seeking medication for my illness
The hurt festers and metastasises in me till the point when suicide seems more preferable than stying alive

On the outside my friends my family have no idea I’m existing with a mental illness
I perpetuate a facade a mask
As i project a image of serenity
They are entirely unaware of my anxiety my depression that crippling silent hurt of being me

I scream i am desperate to convey my pain to anybody
I fantasise about getting hug getting a acknowledgment from my pain
I dream of eruditely articulating my depression to a close friend and having streams of tears flowing down my face and feeling the euphoria of expressing the pain

Instead i repress i hide the pain
I carry on this facade to protect myself
I am alone in my hurt in my wounded fragile soul
I am this vulnerable broken women longing for anybody to hear my silent screams of emotional anguish

Terminal Depression

Can’t shake this pain
It makes my bones ache with sadness
I can barely walk i can barely function its so excruciating to live with
This depression this pain is terminal its like having a cancer infecting you’re entire body

One day i will awake and be unable to carry on living this way
One day i will end my life the pain of being me will grow so severe suicide will be the only plausible path to banish this pain
This day is coming soon the anxiety the loneliness the weight of this severe depression is slowly crushing my fragile soul
I cut myself in masochistic act to feel my pain i write poetry as forlorn acts of self expression all to no avail the pain the cancer only metastasises in my mental ill psyche

Oh lord rid me of the suffocating existential malaise of being me
I want to expunge the depression to be normal to be happy to fall in love
I want to liberated from the chains of my depression i want to be glad to be alive
I will never have these fantastical illusions i am doomed to be tortured by this untreated terminal depression until one day i will have to end my life to end the psychological torture of being me