You are about to read a small snippet of how I felt and saw depression. The thoughts it created and the destruction it caused my soul. But also my realization of what I found it to be.
Everything was aggravating and painful. The only time I felt comfortable was when I would finally peeled my self from my bed and take a shower. In the shower, it felt like I was being washed clean of everything. I would keep the lights off, as if to deter me from looking at my reflection. I would play music and listen as the water rushed over me like angels trying to cleanse me of the thick stench of hell that tainted my soul. Its amazing what the mind can think of in dark times just to keep you going a little bit longer. I would stay in the water till my fingers turned to prunes. The shower was the only place I felt I could hide from all the pain at animated inside me. Chains shackled my feet, built of sorrow that had branded my dreams. Along with the chain, came a shadowing cloud of mist that would follow me where ever I was. If I wasn't capturing my mind with brain numbing operations. I was trapped, listening to the idle voice. Hearing it nibble at my mind like a rat. It was never satisfied and it would never let me go.
There seemed to be no end in sight and there wasn't. It just got to the point where I was fed up with the lies and feeling of mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion. There were days before all this pain, days of laughter, smiles, and revelry. So why couldn't I go back? And in that moment of seeing that. I realized I needed to start by changing how I spoke to myself. That voice in me, wasn't some hellish demon following me and flogging me of my happiness. It was a voice I created out some false worship of lies I had told myself for far too long. I was constantly carrying scars that that never fully healed, from words of another from months ago, even years ago. I planted many seeds in my past and never tended their growth. I created a world where shadows could sleep and I would care for them. I found it easier to raise the dead in me, than tend and sustain the living. I found that my mind is much like a garden. It is easier to let it dry up and die and let the weeds flourish than to water and irrigate the soils. It was no simple task to change my pattern of thought. Still, it is not an easy thing to do. It is no elementary task to tend to my rose garden of my soul and of my mind. I still struggle with pockets of hell. But each time I find myself in one of the pockets, I see it no longer as a set back. But a chance to move forward, even more. Falling into these pockets give me awareness on what I still need to work on. And when I make it out of the pocket, I fill the pocket with what I have accomplished, I fill it with happiness, with excitement, with, joy. I fill it. with what ever will help sustain and build my garden and bare me fruits for days to come.
I fear too many us fall for the lies we tell ourselves and pretend we did not create it. That if we just let it be, it will simply go away. But if we do not recognize where the agony comes from, if we do not find the rotted tree that has roots into our soul. We cannot cut it from our garden and eat fresh fruits. We must speak our pains into existence, speak what cuts our souls, what lays in the darkest lairs of our mind. We must open our minds and speak kindness to ourselves, speak softly, but strongly. We must not criticize our own thoughts upon failure, but praise that we attempted. We must not drown our ambitious in things we do not desire nor find enjoyment in. We must not spill our hours into those that do no make us feel love, nor give love. We must be ware of what we feed our minds and whom we surround our soul with. For a gardener cannot afford to surround themselves with those who plant weeds.
-The Mind of Hell-
The fire of hell never ceases
It finds bare lands and blazes
Spreading fire to living voices,
Burning till bliss is of charred corpses,
Its mouth seething with lies and roaches
Feasting on minds riches,
Rotting soils of roses
And lusting to tie nooses,
It hangs the living from crotches
Leaving the mind to flesh and curses,
Finding weakness among the stitches,
Cutting, with fiery axes,
Its voice spitting of grudges,
leaving mind in state of molasses
While cashing in on vices
Bleeding the soul of speeches.
It sickens, it famishes,
breaking the soul of wishes
Illusions of beautiful auroras
Blinding the eyes of carcasses
Stench that discourages,
Wandering far from what lavishes,
The fire of hell never ceases.
Nor does the light of the heavens.
Popular posts from this blog
The Moles Never Learn I found myself walking in the snow, my head aching with a sharp pain. I feel the back of my head, there is something crusted upon the rear of my skull. I dig my nail carefully into it. I can feel the crust collect beneath my nail like dirt. As my feet trudge through the sixteen inches of snow I look to my nail and there in my nail is blood. Dried cells of my body. Upon seeing this I become confused with worry. I place my hand once again upon my bloodied skull and began to examine it. I slide my index finger like the bristle of a broom, back and forth trying to see what wound had allowed such blood upon me. But after several seconds of feeling about, I find nothing. No scratches, no lacerations, nothing. My worried confusion musters down to mere confusion. I rub my eyes as I am strangely held with a slight daze. As if I have been interrupted from a deep sleep. And the evening air is not helping my situation. I am comfortably wrapped for a day tr
I Had Forgotten Red smoke plumes in the air. A brilliant, yet daunting sky of clouded crimson thickens the sky in sheets of billowed cotton. It rises with no sense to stop. The atmosphere frightens, yet heightens the senses with a strange tingle of pleasure. We are losing our homes to the natural order. Yet I am not taken by tears, but by an odd joy of entertainment. For too long have I adhered myself to these pieces of physical wealth. Yes, through struggle, persistence and consistent efforts I have dawned myself with such rewards. But for too long now, I have forgotten the path I had been taken. I had forgotten the many beads of sweat I spewed from the exhaustion to gain such things. I had forgotten the lonely misery I had fought. I forgotten the friends that lifted me, the moments that tore me down only to bring me higher. I had forgotten the delicacy of a flower. The aromas of nature the beauty within myself and the beauty so naturally displayed around me. So m
The Blameful Two The world broke as their hearts bled the shadows of their misery. Seeping upon the world, flooding with the scars of agony. Their eyes trembling beneath the moonlight as their blood stained hands shimmer. Their lips sewn as each is caught in a lie. Both bare, exposed to their duality. Their curtains drawn thus unmasks the bodies they have slain. The skeletons of truth dragged through the spoils of deceit. Each, unwilling to speak. Their cheeks flush in rose petals. Their skin taut to the anxiety of their arrest. They are now the victims of themselves and each the other. Two hell's preached in the underbelly of their weakness. The fraudulent thought in avoidance of pain. And now they stand as nude as the beginning of life, Adam and Eve. Shaking, they are without words. Silent, bearing only tears that fall to the blood soaked floors. The dark whirlpools of hypocrisy. Neither is without sin and neither is without murder. Their souls weep dearly a