Between Blinks

Waking up to the first thought when you're smothered in deep, unmoveable depression.

                    -Blink-

The first thoughts begin to surface.
They feel like my wrist chaffing against sandpaper.
Gritty thoughts that rough away the skin
          and leave little freckles of blood 
Hot white skin

    beaded with blood
How tender 
the nexus of braided veins has become
My lifeline of soft blue thought pulses thickly
Through the monotony of sealed wrists.
Why get up and prepare my teeth and knife and fork and plate?
When breakfast is just the clatter and scraping of spoons on porcelain plates?
Why pound my heartbeat into the floor?
With the balls of my feet.
Why direct my skeleton around the house?
When the skin of my person is still snagged and stretched and r-i-i-i-i-ipppping

                                      along the bedframe.
When my every goal is trapped in the cold air between the pleats of your dress
                   -Blink-

Reviews

[Extant]

This is like that moment of doubt and depression that crosses my mind every once and awhile, but it is only a moment between blinks and then it's gone.
"Why pound my heartbeat into the floor?" and everything beyond that was amazing to imagine and chew on, especially "Why direct my skeleton around the house?" I'm still thinking up the implications of that; are you metaphorically a skeleton because of your lack of love for life, are you physically weary? But you know where your skin is, in bed.. Some days I really wish I could stay in bed all day, too.

[Deuces]

I've been through too many of these to count. I like the verbs used "blink"... it adds suspense to this already emotional piece.

Why direct my skeleton across the house? - This is tight.

One feels like just a skeleton and skin when trapped inside the body of a mentally paralyzed person. Wonderfully conveyed.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the sadness in this is overwhelming...reminds me of Poe...

"the telltale heart"

no matter what we see that could cheer us up...we hear that tapping, the tapping of depression and it won't let us go.

i really love the last seven lines...so creative.

it is obvious that words are a big part of you---so glad you share yours with us.

jacob

[James William Dyer]

thank you much. Language is all I have, the one area I can't feel the bitter fingers of poverty as much. The Language Arts have suffered terribly in the past couple decades. I hope that changes.

[spiritwind]

I already rewarded my day with one James William Dyer poem but I am ever a glutton so I reward my day twice!
You cannot be beat, sir. Every word is well chosen and well-placed and stirs the soul toward heaven or hell. And in this piece your words sent me in both directions at once--heaven because I was in the hands of a Master Poet and hell because this poem bleeds pain.
I should sign off before I succomb and read a third Dyer poem and over-dose...

[Ana Soo]

Yep. When everything seems nulled and void. This is well thought out. Nice..

[John Alexander McFadyen]

Hi James, this feels so real. Written in ripping metaphors I can feel the sense of futility, abandonment, hopelessness. Hoping it is simply a poem

It feels so hard to 'be" when you're depressed, I can understand this write.
It's utterly beautifully written, but with a sad wink... and this is a perfect example and expression of what and how depression can be/ feel...~ and can not be, in denial, to overwhelm the civil world with what they want to see..... ~ into life's obligations... loved it! keep on penning dear friend xo

E.L.

[Muse]

sandpaper...
hot white skin
r-i-i-i-i-ipppping
cold air between the pleats of your dress

The best poetry I think plays on the reader's senses..touch sound taste sight and sense. You effectively hit on 4/5 making this a great poem. Depression is not just in the head..it affects your spirit..your body. Your bring this feeling down to reality...

Great penning.

[Lushan]

This one catches you by surprise when you read it because the cold anger and frustration sudenly crumble in the last line. well done.

[That_Girl]

After I don't even know how long of seeing people comment on your work and speak very highly of you, I decided to drop by and check you out... well, your writing at least ha. I'm very glad I did. I can completely relate to every line but these stuck out to me.

"Why get up and prepare my teeth and knife and fork and plate?
When breakfast is just the clatter and scraping of spoons on porcelain plates?"

It's almost like waking up with a hangover, a wretched hangover, every day. For me at least. Feels like slow motion... I felt that in this piece. Great job. Sorry for the ramble haha

[James William Dyer]

glad you checked it out. I like you're riske poetics

[That_Girl]

Haha thanks love. :)