A Night Like This (October 11, 2011)

Still

Hear your voice

Calling me:

"Fucking useless

Piece of shit."

As your blows

Rain down

Upon my body.

Although

Thirty-one years

Have past.

As similar dreams

Haunt my troubled soul

With their corrosive memory.

Since

The final remnants

Of mental walls collapsed

In August 2007.

Plaguing

My existence

Since.

Therisa © 2011

Author's note: It has been almost 6 years, since I last looked at this poem. Not surprisingly, I find myself being triggered by it. I have cleaned up a few of the stanzas, which read rough to me, but otherwise, haven't changed anything else.

Riding Out The Storm (January 20, 2018)

On those darkest nights

When my blackest memories

Are the stuff

Horror writers dream of.

The tears flow

Like swollen rivers

From my eyes

Drowning my pillows

In their salty wetness.

As I dream

Of a place

Where I'm free

From these memories

And toxic emotions.

As my strength

Bleeds away

In waves of anxiety

Racking my body

Like the incoming tides

On a seaside beach.

Not even

Hypnos’ gift

Can spare me

From this.

Awakening to

A nervous

And drained body.

Poured

Into a foetal mould

By Hephaestus

Covered in lead.

Knowing

It's another 2-3 days

Before I can leave

This enforced confinement

On my bed.

As I retrace my steps

From this slag heap

That covers my soulscape

In toxic waste.

Hoping

Beyond hope

This will be

My last time.

Therisa © 2018

Author's note: On January 19th, I visited my doctor’s office, to get some forms filled out for my disability case file review. It felt like I had triggered a PTSD flashback, in the way that my body has been reacting for the past 3 days.