Macabre

My therapist asked me to write a poem with the prompt “what is your state of mental health in this season of life”. Here’s my answer.

The weight of grocery bags

I’m carrying up a hill

Is dragging me down to hell

I walk and walk

With heavy dumbbells to my wrists

My back starts to cripple

My ankles start to shake

Hauling so much weight

Just to be able to eat

Is a death sentence

A pink scarf wraps around

My neck and pulls

Me back

To a soulless building

Full of closed doors,

Unwanted welcomes,

And food scavenging

This house is a place of nightmares

Laying in bed

And waking up

To the feeling of

A rock in your stomach

Pigeonholing pictures

To the wall

Fake having a blushing life

Stabbing into you and me

Holes in my eyes,

gashes in the head,

And tears through the heart

CDs spinning

‘round and ‘round

Drown out the thoughts

Of death and macabre

Strain them, let the faucet drip

A door opens

To a black void

Across from my drooping eyes

I see red lightening eyes,

Pointy horns,

And a spiked tail

I turn away

But I still feel him glaring

I light a candle

to keep the spirits away

To help my soul travel

To a northeastern state,

To safety,

Where I’m free

And not a slave to

these ghastly ways of life

I have an iron rod in my head

Bone remodeled around it

I’m still alive after the lobotomy

I’m healing but I’m still hurting

I’m okay but I could be great

How to get from start

To candy land’s castle,

I don’t know.