Bandaid

It’s like an extension of the body,
Smooth, and soft, and nearly supple. Protective like a cloud from the harsh sun
For the little city that thrives underneath.
It’s like a second layer of skin.
Except sticky and stinging, straining itself
Like the city bridge stretching over
The dark, dark, murky water below.
It aches with a sharp pang
As I feel the little rivulettes collect-
Form together as if it were a dam,
Ready to burst and drown everything.
I blink like a short circuit – current of panic.
Like the dam burst – staining everything red.
I wonder what the city under the cloud is like now.
What will the roads look like after the flood?

Little Friends

Where have you gone, my little friends?
Has our dependency come to end?

Are you hiding in the shadows over there?
Or are you on the dusty dresser by the stairs?
Are you in the unswept floor, or in the trash?
Oh, I have lost you! Please come back.

Peek-a-boo! Friends! Come out and play!
I haven’t seen you in almost more than a day.
Your love is the one that I foolishly adore
It’s warm numbness I crave- more! More! More!

Little friends where have you gone?
Have you found new homes to haunt when the nights are long?

My longing leaves a bitter taste,
Like expired chalk gone to waste.
But the way it all slips past my lips,
I don’t need other friends than this.

I’ve got plenty of little friends you see,
I love them and they love me.
They’re white and orange and blue and red,
And so they get along with what’s inside my head.

Madness, madness, can’t you see?
I need pills so I can breathe.
I need pills so I can sleep.
I need pills to set me free.

Little Victories

It’s the small things, really; that give us the momentum we need to keep moving forward. Tiny feats worth celebrating that make your heart swell three times as big as it should be.

All because you kept breathing.
All because you’re alive.
All because of the tiny victories.

The year passed in a blur – faded images of heartbreak, sadness, remorse. But vivid memories of success, pride, contentment… happiness.  The clock strikes midnight at the beginning of another book – 365 blank pages ready to be filled with the words of my life. It’ll be a book about my accomplishments, the things that kept me going: the little things. I’ll learn not to dwell on the circumstances of my failures, but rather the strength it took to overcome them. All the blood work that made me wonder if there was any left in me to test. All the MRI scans with black and white blotches that meant nothing to me. All the prescriptions that piled up and nearly drowned me in medication. All the waiting for bad news from the doctor.  Despite all of it,  despite the diseases and disorders, I was successful in my endeavours. I may not have been outstanding in regards to academics, but I didn’t let the failures in such things keep me down.

I’m proud of my little victories. They keep me alive.