Box of Dark Things

Too many people suffering in isolation, lets start a conversation.

Monday …

day one of the slide …

and I’ve managed to quell the dark things inside.

I take a deep breath, supress the sigh …

push out my chest and hold my head high

The flex and the dark things are tidied away

A quick self-esteem pep-talk, then face the new day

It’s by no means plain sailing but I cope, struggle through

My close friends and colleagues don’t have the first clue

That behind the smiling eyes and exterior gloss

Inside I’m crushed under the weight of my cross

Home now and the texts to the kids have gone unread

The paradox of feeling empty and yet full of dread

The cogs won’t stop turning, I turn to the booze

To stun the dark things into a restless snooze …

 

Tuesday …

I take a deep breath, supress the sigh …

push out my chest and hold my head high

The rope and the dark things are tidied away

I steel myself and face the new day

The hours drag by, then I’m home at last

And there’s a Facebook message, from a blast from the past

Some spam about forwarding his post to another ten

To raise awareness of suicide rates in men

We’ve messaged before but, I’ve not seen Rod since school

If he thinks spamming equals consciousness he’s a delusional fool

My cynical response is the smiley face emoji and “RUOK”

I’ve hundreds of “friends” on here, but where the hell are they?

Sleep doesn’t come as I’ve opened the box

The dark things are out and they’re running Amok

 

Wednesday …

I take a deep breath, supress the sigh …

push out my chest and hold my head high

The blade and the dark things are tidied away

I steady myself and face the new day

The smile on my face and long sleeves on my arms

Mask the mental scars made real, by sharp steel and self-harm

I’m shattered, battered, flattened and tattered

And miniscule events that should not have really mattered

Become colossal, insurmountable mountains to climb

I’m rushing, I’m mindless I’ve lost track of time

I collide with someone, my apologies, sincere and profuse

Their response is a diatribe of foul mouthed abuse

I feel pathetic and wretched from the events of today

A fistful of pills keeps the dark things at bay

 

Thursday …

I take a deep breath, supress the sigh …

push out my chest and hold my head high

The pills and the dark things are tidied away

I grit my teeth and face the new day

I’m sat at my desk and there’s a tap on my back

The girl from HR and my boss want a chat

My timekeeping and performance has been a bit slack

I’ll be put on a management plan to help get back on track

As the interview concludes they ask "is everything all right?"

I flash them my Hollywood smile and say “yeah … out of sight”

I take one for the worry, two for the fear, and lie there counting sheep

I wonder how many I would need to take to fall into the big sleep

I’m falling, I’m drowning, I’m dying, I’m dreaming.

I sleep like a baby, waking often and screaming.

 

TFI Friday ...

I take a deep breath, supress the sigh …

push out my chest and hold my head high

The razor and the dark things are tidied away

I brace me and myself and face the new day

The post work ritual every Friday night

A drink, a singsong, a dance and a fight

The usual suspects head into the bar

When they laugh, I laugh, it’s funny ha-ha

There’s a good crowd tonight, girls on wines, lads on beers

Yet I feel alone with everybody, my silent screams fall on deaf ears

The bell tolls last orders and I look round the room

I’m the last man standing, alone but for my gloom

 

 

Saturday ...

I really cannot be bothered facing humankind

I abandon my mantra to see what tipple I can find

The exhaust hose and the dark things are left lying around

But they don’t bother me, I’m passed out on the ground

I wake in the wee hours at the foot of the stairs

The dark things, are out to get me and it’s the stuff of nightmares.

 

Sunday ...

I take a deep breath, supress the sigh …

push out my chest and hold my head high

And I cry … I cry like helpless child

The dark things are out and they’re running wild

And they won’t be reconciled

I’m huddled in a corner, chest heaving giant sobs

Snot bubbling from my nose in sticky green gobs

I hug myself tight and raise my miserable tear sodden face to the sky

And I ask the omnipotent, omniscient entity who'm I don’t believe in … I ask him why?

And a that precise moment my phone gives out a ping

Did I just get a message from a supreme being?

I reach for my phone a little perplexed

Hoping it’s my kids replying to my text

But it’s not from my kids and it’s not from God

It’s a one word reply from my Facebook ”friend” Rod

And that one word reads “No” and it halts the dark thoughts

 I don’t respond for an age then text “Do you need to talk”

We message at first but then I put in the call

Because it’s too hard to express when you’re telling your all

He’s had a rough time of it, and he’s been pushed to the edge

And its me of all people talked him down from the ledge

 

Monday ...

day one of the slide …

and I’ve managed to quell the dark things inside.

I take a deep breath, supress the sigh …

push out my chest and hold my head high

 

Spoken word link below

 

 

DepressionRUOKSuicide

◄ Exit Stage Left

Mediocre Town ►

Comments

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Dorothy Webb

Wed 20th Feb 2019 10:33

tortured- vivid - what can be said about this poem other than it shocks?

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