Poetry

my heart is heavy and the road is long
but i’ll walk steady and i’ll stay strong
starting to think i don’t know you at all
but i’ll walk steady and i’ll sing my song

i think of you every time i blink
i think of you every time i blink

you wanna dance but you don’t know how
so step on my feet i’ll teach you right now
your heart it yearns for someone new
but my heart it yearns for you

i think of you every time i blink
i think of you every time i blink

you don’t say goodnight the same way anymore and you just aren’t as tender as before 

i think of you every time i blink
i think of you every time i blink

i think of you every time i blink
i think of you every time i blink

every time i blink (demo)

I love u Leith. ty for making the best song ever made

I'd Have To Think About It (cover)

hot mess - dodie

Explaining my depression to my mother: A conversation

Mom, my depression is a shapeshifter
One day it's as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear
The next it's the bear
On those days I play dead until the bear leaves me alone
I call the bad days "the Dark Days"
Mom says try lighting candles
But when I see a candle I see the flicker of a flame
Sparks of a memory younger than noon
I am standing beside her open casket
It is the moment that I learn everyone I will ever come to know will someday die
Besides Mom, I'm not afraid of the dark, perhaps that's part of the problem
Mom says I thought the problem was that you can't get out of bed
I can't, anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house inside of my head
Mom says where did anxiety come from
Anxiety is the cousin visiting from out of town that depression felt obligated to invite to the party
mom I am the party, only I'm a party I don't want to be at
Mom says why don't you try going to actual parties, see your friends
Sure I make plans, I make plans I don't want to go to
I make plans because I know I should want to go I know sometimes I would have wanted to go
It's just not that fun having fun when you don't want to have fun Mom
You see Mom each night Insomnia sweeps me up in his arms dips me in the kitchen in the small glow of the stove-light
Insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company
Mom says try counting sheep
But my mind can only count reasons to stay awake
So I go for walks, but my stuttering kneecaps clank like silver spoons held in strong arms with loose wrists
They ring in my ears like clumsy church bells reminding me that I am sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness that I cannot
Baptize myself in
Mom says happy is a decision
But my happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg
My happy is a high fever that will break
Mom says I am so good at making something out of nothing and then flat out asks me if I am afraid of dying
No Mom I am afraid of living
Mom I am lonely
I think I learned that when Dad left how to turn the anger into lonely the lonely into busy
So when I say I've been super busy lately I mean I've been falling asleep on the couch watching SportsCenter
To avoid confronting the empty side of my bed
But my depression always drags me back to my bed
Until my bones are forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city
My mouth a bone yard of teeth broken from biting down on themselves
The hollow auditorium of my chest swoons with the echoes of a heartbeat
But I am just a careless tourist here
I will never truly know where I have been
Mom still doesn't understand
Mom, can't you see
That neither can I

Explaining My Depression to My Mother - Sabrina Benaim

For the people who ask me if I'm tired... 

You present your question as some sort of benign inquiry.
Like you're collecting data for the sleep census,
as if there weren't two possible results:

A. I AM tired, and now I'm aware that I look like shit. Or....

B. I'm NOT tired, and now I'm aware that I look like shit.

The only way your query would be useful is if it were the preface to a longer,
more solution-oriented statement like...
"Hey! Are you tired? Because I just set up a hammock in your office."
Or..."Hey! Are you tired of homophobia? Me, too. Let's start a rally."

But, NO! You never want to start a rally.
You just want to talk about the bags under my eyes.
How I look like Meeko, the Raccoon from 'Pocohantas,'
and he's not even a recognizable Disney character.

Asshole!

For the People Who Ask Me If I'm Tired - Justin Lamb

Honest confessions on falling in and out of love with a confused 20-something semi-closeted gay man or I can usually tell in the first fifteen minutes if something’s gonna work out for the long haul so why’d I ever bother or a beginner’s guide to crying publicly at parties over a completely self-fabricated history of something that only ever sort of was or how to let go.

One. Last Halloween, Britney Malenda’s dressed up as Dora the Explorer and got so drunk that she stood on a chair and shouted, “How many shots has Dora had? Otso! Dora tiene otso shots!” Five minutes later you were making out with drunk Dora in the middle of the living room and in that moment for some reason I knew you had to be mine.

Two. I totally watched Django Unchained without you over winter break even though I promised you I wouldn’t and then pretended to be watching it for the first time on our date. That was the only time that I ever lied to you which for me is a personal best.

Three. I have never found you sexier than when you talk about German fimmakers, struggled to ice skate, or tell me that I am wrong.

Four. I have reoccurring dreams about deep cleaning your apartment.

Five. The first time that you told me I cannot stay the night because your roommate might come home and see me, I should have left you. Not out of selfishness, or anger, but because when you begin to rearrange your vocabulary for someone else, replacing words like unhealthy with compromise, you will begin to forget your own name.

Six. You called me baby like flicking on a light switch, something quick and easy that you knew you could do to brighten up the room. But I am sick of sleeping with the lights on because you were afraid of the monster in your closet and I was afraid that it had already climbed into bed with us or that I had been the monster all along.

Seven. I told everyone how bad the sex was–because it was.

Eight. I have thought about you during sex with other people.

Nine. I’ve never wanted someone to hurt and be happy so badly.

Ten. I told you I loved you, last resort. I told you I loved you, like a bomb shelter, something to hide in after the fallout, but we would always be hungrier than our rations would allow.

Eleven. How do you tell someone that they taught you how to look at a seed and see a flower? You are blooming in another man’s garden and I feel like I’m the only one who got his hands dirty. When he bites into your roots, he will taste my rainwater. When he strips you naked, he will pause between each article of clothing, stop and say how beautiful.

Twelve. I’m sorry I have not yet forgotten how to find you beautiful.

Thirteen. I’m trying.

Fourteen. For Valentine’s Day you got me an eggplant. I don’t really remember the significance only that you covered the entire thing with silver sharpie so you could write little messages in black which wouldn’t show up in the purple when you could have just written the messages in silver. When you gifted it with me, I didn’t even realize what it was because, well, eggplants are purple.

You covered up everything to try to be with me.
And I no longer knew what I was.

Honest Confessions on Letting Go - Kevin Kantor

"I have a fetish for slammed doors and silent phones. For the sweet sting of your breath as you say, “I can’t do this anymore.” For dreaming of your fingers as I watch you hold her hand. I can’t remember the last time I did this sober. I don’t know if anyone will ever love me the way my father loves my mother. I spent hours analyzing your ambiguous Facebook statuses that could maybe be about global warming, a hang nail or your enormous crush on me. Made myself the smallest satellite without even realizing I had done it again, made somebody else my gravity. Wondering: are you okay, do you miss me, do you want me, my world tethered into second person me. A ventriloquist narrator of my own story… I woke up realizing I had been searching for a home with my own keys waiting in my pocket. I am what I’ve been waiting for to claw the rusted drip of lonely from my throat. Let it breathe and let it go. A swan song to every time I told myself I was broken. This is not about you. And neither am I."

9 Reasons - Joanna Hoffman

1. Don’t freak out.

2. We both know this has been coming for a long time.

3. I have been staying awake at nights, wondering if I should tell you.

4. I bought the kind of crackers you like. They are in the hall cupboard.

5. Now that we have watched all the episodes of True Blood, I do not know what else to do next.

6. I have just been too afraid for too long.

7. This is the kind of thing where waiting for the time to be right would just mean waiting forever; it’s the kind of thing no one else can help you decide.

8. I came home on Thursday and found all of the chairs in the house stacked in a pile in the center of my kitchen; I don’t know how long they have been like that, but it must have been me that did it. It is the kind of thing a ghost might do, to prove to the living he is still there. I am haunting my own apartment.

9. My grandmother was still alive when I was five years old and she told me to check if the iron was hot enough yet, so I pressed my hand against it, and it was red and screaming for hours. Twenty five years later she would still sometimes apologize, in the middle of conversations, I feel so bad about making you touch the iron, she would say, as though it had just happened. I cannot imagine how we forgive ourselves for all of the things we didn’t say until it was too late. But how else do you tell if something is hot but to touch it?

10. I imagine my furniture in your apartment.

11. I wonder how many likes it will get on facebook.

12. My dad always used to tell the same joke, but I can’t remember the punch line.

13. I was eight years old and it took three weeks (three eight year old weeks—- imagine) to gather everything I needed to be Batman. Rope, boomerangs, a mardi gras mask with the beads cut off. I couldn’t find a cave near my house, so I buried them all in a bundle under the ivy. For years after,

I tried to find that spot again.

The ivy grew too fast.

I searched in so many spots

it seemed impossible I had missed any.

But I never found it.

How can something be there

and then just not be there?

How do we forgive ourselves

for all the things we did not become?

14. I was never bold enough to buy bright green sheets. I wanted them, but always thought they were too brash, even with no one but me to see them. I bought a set yesterday and put them on the bed. I knew that you would like them.

14 Lines From Love Letters Or Suicide Notes - Doc Luben

When you see me gaze off into nothing, do not call my name.
I am too busy imagining a different life.
When you see me madly scratch my paper, do not ask me what I am doing.
I am trying to kill the voices in my head.
When you see my grip tighten on my hair, do not think too much.
I just want my head to stop hurting.
When you see me playing with my hands, do not tell me to stop.
I am making sure I am still alive.
When you see me walking alone, do not come to my side.
I am probably just trying to calm myself down.
If you ever see bruises on my collar bones, please do not ask me where I got them.
I woke up with them.
If you ever see the scars on my arms please do not assume they were made last week.
They’re from another life they just didn’t want to leave.
If you ever see my knuckles bleed please do not ask me what is going on.
I am trying to forget about it.
If you ever see my hands shake while they’re sitting on my lap please do not make fun of me.
I do not know why they do that.
If I ever come home late do not ask me where I was.
I was busy being me.
If I ever seem distant do not ask me where I am.
I am here, I just don’t want to be.
If I ever tell you I don’t care do not assume I am playing it cool
I really don’t care.
If I ever screw something up do not yell at me.
I will clean up my mistakes.
If I ever hurt you do not hate me.
Sometimes I forget how to be human.
If I ever cry in your arms do not be uncomfortable.
This just means I am comfortable with you.
Please do not ask me if I am okay.
I am never “okay”.
Please do not try to figure me out.
I am simple I just like secrets.
Please do not try to hug me or touch me it makes my skin feel like it’s burning.
Please do not try to comfort me.
You look stupid.
Just sit beside me, stay quiet, empty your mind.
If I’m ever laying in bed crying, or just being dumb, and I ask you to get out. Don’t.
I’m just scared to admit that I need you to hold me when I feel like this.

How To Live With Someone Who Can't - Antonella Gonzalez

Gold star for me - Dodie Clark and Carrie Fletcher

Miss Jackson - Dodie Clark (doddleoddle)

Mashup - Dodie Clark

Young Again

Reagan Myers - Depression Is Funny Like That

I wrote this song because one time I couldn’t find the black polish at the nail salon, so whenever the lady asked me my color and I said “I couldn’t find the black, but that’s what I want,” she said “You look like the type to paint your nails black.” Which is an odd thing to say. And I still have no idea what that means. But it was enough for me to create a narrative for black vs. white polish girls. 

lyrics:
i am the type to have nails painted black
i am the type to listen rather than talk back
i am the type of girl who is good on the side
she is the type to have nails painted white
she is the type to keep talking to you all night
facetime till you fall asleep, she says “i love u, goodnight”
that’s more your type

i am the type who likes time apart
i am the type good at breaking my own heart 
i am the type of girl boys only love at night
she is the type that you take home to mom
beautiful girl next door, there all along
she is the type of girl you love in the light
that’s more your type

i am the type to have nails painted black
i am the type to assume you’ll attack
if i tear down my walls, and let you see what’s inside
she is the type to have nails painted white
she is the type that will make a great wife
she’ll be okay, she’ll be alright 
but if one day you find there’s something missing in your life
i’ll be your type

Your Type

cool girl (demo) - dodie

حتى لا أموت موتاً بعد موتي; اذكروني بكل ابتسامة شاغف دفئها قلوبكم من كل نغمة موسيقية صدرت من هذا المكان.

“ستقتلون كاتباً..
لكنكم لن تقتلوا الكتابه..
وتذبحون, ربما, مغنياً
لكنكم لن تذبحوا الربابه...”


14 Lines From Love Letters Or Suicide Notes - Doc Luben

Arsène Lupin VI

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