intrusive thoughts/the jitters

distorted figures in the room,
distorted voices in my head,
distorted clouds in the sky
distorted touches in my bed...
       refracted in the burning sun,
                   reflected in the chosen one,
refracted in the brightest light,
                   reflected in the darkest night.
one, two, two, three, three, three, four,
five, six, six, six, seven, eight;
there's a shadow at the door
whose worth is measured in fear's weight.
i still feel bugs,
i still feel tugs,
i still feel rugs,
i still feel hugs.
loud sounds and weird smells
cause me sensory overload.
forget i asked. forget i ever said
anything. in this awful mode,
i'm wallowing in dread.
do it. do it. do it.
just do it.
almost six years now,
i've not touched my wrists,
but sunken, though, in late night
 silent trysts.
he called me bitter words,
and walked away.
we stayed sober from our pains
until another day.
the cloudy days are abundant
in my world of darker skies,
and it remains that way,
until everything in it dies.
dies. dies.

-LJ
28 January 2017

I miss the way my voice sounds when I sing

I miss the way my voice sang of springtime,

and the love of a prince to a princess he has not met,

and the roses, and the lips that were roses.

I miss the way my voice sang in tongues,

and the silliness of a man and his reflection,

and the beauty of the world, and I love yous, I love yous.

I miss the way my voice sang in hymns,

and His world was my world, and I'd rejoice;

but smite me, watchman, for I am now beside myself.

I miss the way my voice sang of life,

and the surges of emotions I felt as I became

a free spirit in the wonder that was music.

I miss the way my voice sounds when I sing;

for right now, I do not hear it in the same light.

I miss the way my voice would clearly ring,

and the only voice I hear is the one silenced by night.

-LJ

28 January 2017

Under The Weeping Willow

One evening, long ago, I dreamed.

I dreamed, I sat under a weeping willow.

It rained and lightning struck above me,

but no harm came to me, under the tree. 

One morning, not too long ago, I lie awake.

I lie awake, agonized, under the weeping willow.

Depression and anger, and guilt and manic,

sensation and pain, cause me to panic.

One afternoon, long ago, I hid.

I hid, as if asleep, under the weeping willow.

Ideations, imagining, singing, dancing,

wanting, needing, craving; chancing 

what would be a creepy sleepy pillow

under a creepy sleepy weepy willow.

-LJ

28 January 2017

Tweets I Never Sent

This

is a stereotypical

"I look into the mirror,
and the person staring back at me
is not myself"

poem,

a

"I do not feel sad all the time,
but I am empty
and can not feel happiness"

 poem,

a

"When will the sun
come back into my life again"

poem,

a

"Yeah,
I wouldn't want
to talk to me, either"

 poem.

This

is another

"I want to get better,
but it all sound petty as fuck...
but I'm being trapped
in the hell of my intrusive thoughts."

poem,

a

"I slept seventeen hours"

poem,

a

"I play Devil's Advocate with myself

on every possible subject,

making me my own worst enemy"

poem.

This

is another

"My hands are cold, 

my feet are cold,

I sleep too much.

Is something wrong with me?"

poem

that rhymes with

"I had no motivation
to get out of my bed",
"I have no appetite
and haven't eaten in two days",

and

"my dreams terrified me"

But most importantly,

this, my friend,

is a

"I think I have
depression,"
and these are tweets I never sent

poem. 

-LJ

23 November 2016

a poem i wrote when i took a picture of the sky

While the sun was shining,
I was deep asleep in your arms;
knowing not the beauty of its embracing rays,
but knowing the gracious presence of clouded days.

While the moon was rising,

I was wide awake, your hand in mine;

knowing not the sweetness of pale starlight,

but knowing the darkness of my bustling mind at night.

While the rain was falling,

I was exhausted, feeble, leaning on your side;

knowing not the relief of this long-felt pain,

but knowing the sharpest stings of what to lose and gain.

While the clouds were gathering,

I was weary from your body and your mind;

knowing not the thought of living life much longer,

but knowing that one day I will get stronger.

-LJ

20 & 21 January 2017

the wind keeps me from sleeping

Here is a little poem

I wrote on my Tumblr

one night when I couldn't sleep.

wheeeee. :-)

The link will take you there! 

The clouds are soft,
the air is crisp,
the moon is almost full, but shining yet,
playing hide-and-seek with the twinkling twinkle little stars.
It’s a scenic view that
envelops me,
but the wind keeps me from sleeping...

-LJ
10 January 2017

about a day

this morning,

the sun rose,

and flooded my room 

with warmth and light. 

but i fled from it, 

for my senses 

leave me cold and

live at night. 

this afternoon,

i shut the blinds 

and covered up and 

locked the doors. 

i stay away

from the world outside

and become paranoid 

again once more. 

this evening, 

after another day

became too much

for me to take,

i shut down for

twelve hours more

after only eight

small hours awake. 

-LJ

5 January 2017