depression

Body

Poetry, Uncategorized 
These old kneecaps
Full of empty threats.
One day they’ll mean it,
And I’ll cry.

You ever try to fill your chest 
Beyond your lungs?
One day my ribs will
Throw their arms up in concession.

Thighs, “thickms”,
Strength, strife.
Run, rage, hope, hate.
I think I love you. 

Left eye more open than the right,
A shy Cupid’s bow 
And my grandmother’s nose 
To connect it all.
Teeth that can’t stand 
To be near each other.
Eyes, always guessing,
Pressing closed against the sting.
Some days I wish I was just a body.
Thoughtless and fearless,
Present. 
Just here to be.
Without a memory or a worry
Or anything, really,
Except for blood, my mother’s skin,
And my father's bones.

Saturday morning

Poetry, Uncategorized 
Wears a misty cap.
And the asphalt sings 
With a metallic odor. 
This feeling hangs 
Like a lead shawl 
Drawing down my eyelids 
Against the white sky.
Coastal sage scrub 
Pleads on the side of the I-15
For the brush of a coyote’s tail.
Desperate optimism.
Anger, taps on the glass window
Annoyed that it has to wait.
But it’ll wait, 
Even if it takes all night.
It is better to hash this out.
Kick at the puddles.
Scatter this muddy water 
Across the sidewalk. 
The wet season has been long 
For us. A monotonous drizzle.
White noise and floods 
On a Saturday morning.

Tired

Poetry 
Last night I had a dream
Where I was in the Olympics,
Repping the U.S. 
In breath holding.

I was in a pool with an attendant
Who would accompany me under water.

First round - the warm up. 

The attendant attaches
A small weight 
To my waist 
And I sink about three feet
Underwater.

I am holding my breath.
In my dream
I am holding my breath.

The panicked pressure starts to build 
Like a lead balloon inflating 
In my chest.
All I can think about is 
Taking a breath.

I tap the attendant 
And he cuts the weight
And we swim to the pool surface.
And I take an indulgent breath.

Second round - I know
I have to hold it longer.

I take big, heaving breaths 
I feel the attendant 
Fasten a larger weight
Around my waist.

3 - 2 - 1
A loud beep and for a split second
I see the bottom of the pool open up
To reveal a deeper level.

The attendant and I sink 
Now about nine feet underwater.

I am holding my breath 
And staring at the twinkling, blurry blue
Around me.
Willing myself not to think 
About oxygen. 

I tell myself breathing is an option
And so is pain.

It is not required. 

Until it is.

I tap the attendant
After what feels like a crushing eternity
And we swim to the surface.

I am already a little disappointed
I didn’t hold it for longer.
And I am tired.
So tired.

I wake up this morning
And drudge through my day 
Tired. 

So tired.

The Antidote

Poetry 
Why am I so hard on you?
Because I am hard on me.
And me doesn’t like to hear it from me,
Doesn’t like to believe it could be me.
So me puts it on you. 

I put it on you
Like a dark cloak
Made of mud and gum 
And melting molasses.

“Why is she like that? 
Why can’t she just stand up for herself?
Why is she so insecure?
She’s just doing it for attention.
She’s pathetic.
I hate that she’s like that.”

I hate that I am like that.

But I am trying to be 
More impeccable with my word.
Inflict no harm with my thoughts and speech.
Communicate with the intention of love.

Murder the fear 
That has wallpapered my mind 
For too long. 

Because when I think those thoughts about you
I am poisoning us both. 
Love, forgiveness, and empathy 
Are the antidote.