Through The Heart Of Darkness (April 24, 2019)

Warning: The following poem contains mentioning of suicidal thoughts/attempt, depression and death. Please stop, if this triggers you.

There are times

I lay in bed

Staring at

My soul’s darkest places.

Pill bottles

All lined up

Ready to open

For that blackest moment.

As wave

After wave of despair

Pulls me

Ever deeper

Into the abyss

Of no return.

Like a forgotten lover

Asking for

One last dance

Rekindling a lost love

For the final time.

As I refuse

Your need/want.

Nine years

Since our last embrace

Around the yuletide log ablaze

Upon the computer screen.

Having since dealt

With 2 prolong bouts

Of agoraphobia.

Which held me

A virtual prisoner

Within my apartment walls

For several months

At a time.

Even

My most recent

Transphobic scare

Won’t deter me

From continuing

My healing journey.

Surrendering means

You win

With your brutist nature

And hate.

Like I did

Almost 42 years ago

In the rural village

Of Erin, Ontario.

Hiding away

Within myself

Until November 15, 2005.

When I emerged

As my true self

Standing over

My dad’s grave.

On the anniversary date

Of his physical release

From mortal pain and suffering

Seven years previously.

So Death

You’ve no hold

Over me.

Having watched

My Oma (cancer)

And dad (heart attack-brain dead)

Fight you

With dignity.

Rather

It is life

I struggle with.

Therisa © 2019

Author’s note: I started writing this poem, on Easter Sunday, the first dry day of the Easter long weekend, in Toronto. Needing a way, to vent the darkness that was building up, within me. Hopefully, my last suicide attempt, occurred during the holiday season of 2010-11, when I did have several containers filled with prescription drugs, to OD on. For some reason, I couldn’t do it.

Although, should the need arise, I would choose to end my life, with the dignity of assisted death.

A Cosmic April Fool's Joke Punchline (April 1, 2017)

The following poem contains very dark subject matter, like enduring extreme child abuse/bullying, PTSD, depression and suicide, itself. 

"I don't want to start any blasphemous rumours

But I think that God's got a sick sense of humor
And when I die I expect to find Him laughing."

Depeche Mode, "Blasphemous Rumours", Some Great Reward (1984)

Sitting on

The edge of the tub

A razor blade

In my hand.

The tears rolling

Down my cheeks

As I look back

At my life.

Just wanting

The pain to end

Regardless

Of the personal cost.

Wondering

What I did do

To become

The punchline

Of this cosmic joke.

I call

My life.

As the abuse

And bullying

Playback

In my mind's eye.

Red tears 

Flow from my wrists

Onto the bathroom floor.

Until

Nothing is left

In my body.

Therisa © 2017

Author's note: I know, there some people will read this poem, and think, it's a cry for help, on my part. Truth is, I have been battling PTSD, for most of my life, after electrocuting myself, in November 1974, while trying to separate an extension cord, from a port space heater, in the basement of the home, we're living in, at the time, as a child. Have been told, on numerous occasions, I was lucky to have survived the electrical burn, to my mouth. I have endured 4 different operations, upon my mouth, over the years, leaving a facial faint scar, upon my right side of my mouth.

The following year, I started kindergarten, and the abuse/bullying started then, there. Only stopping, in September 1987, when I transferred to another high school, for my final 3 years, before starting university, in September 1990.

This doesn't include, the abuse, I suffered, at the hands, feet, and mouth, of my younger brother, over the years, until August 2007, I stood up to him, and told him; "you're dead to me, the next time, I see you, you'll be 6 feet under." Since then, I haven't seen or heard from him. 

Today's date is April 1st, a time, people allowed to play practical jokes, on each other, until noontime. And yes, there are time, which I feel like, I am, the punchline, to some cosmic joke, 

And no, I am not planning on ending my life, right now. Just that, at times, I feel this need to write out the darkness, I contain, within me. Guess, you could it, a safety valve release. 

Beyond The Surface (July 20, 2016)

We talk

As if

We know

What acceptance

Really means.

Without 

Having a clue

About the level

Of our ignorance

For this word.

I say this

As someone

Who has experienced

This first hand.

What hate

Really means

And does

To a person.

On a physical

Psychological 

And emotional level.

Blaming myself

For causing

This destructive energy

Around me.

Questioning

Everything

About myself.

To the point

I hated myself

With a passion

Corroding my soul

In toxic poison.

As Death

By suicide

Becomes

The only solution

For this.

Even now

Am slipping down

Into this growing despair

Of darkness.

Just wanting it

To end

One way

Or another.

Therisa © 2016