Demons In My Head

Sometimes,
I think about how I want to travel,
Make a new life elsewhere.
But, I never dare. 
"Just make a little more money."
Turned into:
"Get a better car and then..." which became:
"Wait until you have a place."
No, you can't see it on my face,
But, these strides for consistent perfection
As well as 
My own contentment have worn on my heart and soul. 
I no longer really try to please others,
But, every night,
I'm faced with the fact that I'll always be afraid of doing great things for myself. 
Do I even know myself?
Underneath all the strange jokes,
Underneath all my insecurities,
Underneath the me who is ADHD-level busy
because she doesn't know how else to be?
Do I even know how to relax?
Take vacation days,
Step away from the gym and the yoga mat,
Just go somewhere and enjoy the sights?
Like a junkie on withdrawal,
I know I'd be shaking and itching.
Hyperventilating. 
No, I can't relax. 
Those vacation days,
That trip
Would be a waste. 
Even on a normal day,
I am constantly running away
From the demons in my head. 
The lack of distraction would only let them steal the rest of me away from my bed.

But, I'm already beaten down,
Disintegrating, demolished, darkened...
I'm already clawing at my skull,
Screaming for them to get out,
Laughing because...
What would I do without them?
Create more as I fall for the same traps?
I don't know how to be happy.
I don't know how to live without walls around me.
I don't know how to live without fear. 
Maybe that's the demons talking right now?
But, I'll never know. 
When they speak through my mouth,
My voice is what I hear.
What do you hear?
Maybe you hear me since you seem to want to be so near and dear. 
I wonder if you can break through the iron first. 
Maybe you'll leave once you quench your thirst,
Everybody does. 
Don't ask why.
"I couldn't tell you." Is all I'll reply. 
Well, I actually could but, why bother?
Everybody leaves, everybody leaves. 
That's what it's like to be me. 
It's a small part though, you see?
I have this weight that never leaves. 
I'd like to run from it but, how do you run from your own head?
I have to befriend my pain instead.
But even so, my hands are stained red, red, red. 
The demons that embody my pain are nothing but sharp porcupine points,
So, with blood, my body I anoint.
With tiny nails, I claw at the bony prison of my demons. 
Tears running down my face because for some reason,
They won't leave. 
Why is it everyone else can leave but...these demons won't?
Maybe if I pound my head on these walls?
Smash it on concrete with one fatal fall?
Maybe then, they'll leave me like everyone else does.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

You have written the story of my life -- always hyper-busy, as if trying to blot out something. Now that I'm old, I realize I was blotting out my ability to ponder my life, figure it out, make it into something. Instead I just buzzed along, doing great things, making some kind of mark, but not really having a plan or a philosophy or an understanding of anything any deeper than a shallow pond. This poem feels a little bit long, but that feeling is well-understood to represent many years of flopping like a fish & not seeing the stream. Powerful & specific expressions of self-doubt & flagellation (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[Tessa Melendez]

I wrote the piece to be a bit long because most of mine end up that way as I try to tell a story or I am trying to explain my thought processes which can be very roundabout or wonky.

[Broken.]

Wow, I am glad I have found you, Tessa. I can tell by your writing that we have quite a lot in common (and I don't just mean writing styles). I too, completely understand what you are feeling. From friends deserting you, to inner demons that don't leave you alone. I have all the same. Nice to know I am not the only one. (:

[Tessa Melendez]

I'm glad to see that I've touched another person like me. 😊 These pieces were meant to be my therapy but, they're more meant for others anymore.