Something Dreadful

Something so unspeakably dreadful happened
all circuits started closing down - only the pain
remains, the desire to flee is all that is left, the
shock too big to process at once, all attempts
to soften the blow just prolong the after-effects

Thoughts circling each other, whirlwinds twirling
aimlessly, screeching accusations, laming the
short-circuited brain, the moment of shock frozen
in time, no movement away from the trauma, no
description, impossible to formulate feelings

At first I fought back by trying to go on as before,
talking, laughing and smiling, my power ebbing
away until my brain was numb, finally I sought
refuge in the only place of safety, the library,
only children’s books to cushion my mind

To stop the mad spirals of pain from increasing
in power and inflicting more damage, physical
pain does not stop the emotional suffering, now
is the time to stop playing a game and sink into
the darkness to reach the end of the tunnel

This slow descent is maddening, trying to pretend
nothing is wrong is impossible, I cannot escape the
pain, I cannot continue the fight, need respite, albeit
temporary, I need to feel some sort of shore before
I can continue to do what is required…

Absurd Side of Depression (Rev.)

Found an absurd side to depression, wanted to
resign because I suffocated, to run away from
myself and be dejected somewhere else, but
too disheartened to fill out a million forms

Bought a magic dish that worked before, evil
sweet stuff dieticians warn about, wonder of
wonders felt better – if for a moment, and my
mind feels fantastic when dark feelings lift

Covered the French class notebook that breaks
my spirit and collapses my mind, a new victory
over blackness within, a white and black design
to symbolise the contrast I see, the white-hot

happiness and pitch-dark depression caused by
horrible sounds killing rhythms and melodies that
live in my mind – the sweet voices that express
true rebellion against things I detest

Breaking out of Prison (Revised)

[REVISED:]

Counting each and every blessing made me see
I am no boon to fellow men; my bid to lighten
burdens through an offering to carry some then
led to grumbling in my presence that I was the
biggest sorrow in their lives

I failed to succour those in need; I have lost the
meaning of my life, cannot find a sense in living –
am condemned to spiritual isolation and lonely
meditation, I am the worst aspect they have ever
seen in their otherwise perfect lives –

My only consolation is I tried my best to be a
blessing – herewith I offer my apologies to all
who feel that they were wronged by me in making
an appearance in their lives; at least by leaving
I shall bring you joy

I couldn’t state opinions less create anxiety,
made it impossible to consult so-called experts,
when I try to state my case I am punished for
recalcitrance – breaking out of the prison of
my own making without explanation

may be the only recourse I have left…


[ORIGINAL:]
Counting each and every blessing made me
realize one thing – I am not a blessing to my
fellow-men; my attempts to help and lighten
their burdens by offering to carry some led to
their grumbling my presence was the biggest
sorrow in their lives

Shocked by the effect of my life - the failure of
my highest ideals to succour those in need, feed-
back indicates I am the worst aspect in their other-
wise relatively perfect lives – I lost the plot of my
life, cannot find any meaning in living; therefore
spiritual isolation and meditation

Are the only activities in which I can participate with-
out offending someone; my only consolation is that
I tried my best to be a blessing to others, herewith I
offer my apologies to all who feel wronged by my
having made an appearance in their lives; at
least by leaving I shall bring you joy

My inability to communicate, to state my opinion with-
out getting into trouble; makes it impossible to consult
so-called experts, whenever I try to state my case I am
punished for being recalcitrant - breaking out of the
prison of my own making without explanation - the
only recourse I have left…

Lost To Understanding (Revised)

Better to be dead than to suffer whatever
reality it is that makes us feel so mean and
lost to understanding. My twin explained
I was the Christmas ‘problem’s’ cause, her
feelings hurt by my words and phrasing, an
offer to take Dad to the holiday resort was
being GOOD because she thought I did not
want to see her and my mother at all – how
it all came down to ME being unfeeling

I did not even try to explain that her words
‘Drop off dad’s present, then come with me
on a trip into the bush, IGNORE your dad’ –
caused home-turf agonies; I know my idea
that she should invite my family to her abode
backfired, accept it as my fault - my father’s
unhappiness was due to my lack of insight in
voicing an opinion - which so clearly lacks
all vestiges of love and consideration

Not Allowed (Revised)

When you saw I had refuelled the Jeep
in less than four weeks, you freaked –
‘How dare you fill within the month,
don’t you know the cost of fuel?’

This morning when you saw the tank
on empty you explode again – ‘Can’t
you fill this up before I have to drive?’
It is a no-win situation I explain, with

you getting angry irrespective of what
I do, and you got angry again – ‘Do
you want me to turn back home now,
whining about my words like you do –

I have a right to be angry, this is who
I am!’ you shout, and I know I must
grin and bear it or face the result of
answering, a verbal emotional attack

I give up, I cannot make you always
right – but I too should have the right
to an opinion although I will not be
allowed to express it

Almost Defrosted

I almost defrosted on reading your warm words,
but it is impossible in this mausoleum of an open-plan
office with its sub-Siberian temperatures where icicles
cling to my computer and my fingers and my feet are
frozen, thankfully I cannot feel them any more - I am
frozen in my seat, only a semblance of life left some-
where in my head and Terry Pratchett has become a
far-off memory as I struggle with strange terms and
shudder at every cold second passing - glad you like
the chocolate - I like the little Tiffany, though Death
is my favourite, Ridcully my bravest, Granny Weather-
wax my most brilliant and Susan my most wacky –
forget it; I love them all, I would LOVE to borrow the
book when you have enjoyed it to your heart’s content!


“I Shall Wear Midnight” Terry Pratchett - Main character
Tiffany Aching

In Good Company (Revised)

Enjoyed that warm moment clustered around
fresh, home-baked bread sharing several
slices, gobbled butter melting deceptively,
now I am resigned facing after-effects,
so I read my sad storybook

I dreamed of studying literature, found
dissecting my favourite books to be cutting
up corpses, destroying beauty by analysing
constituent parts; only special kinds of
spiritual and juvenile books

could provide my emotional needs - but
acclaimed works of literature do not infuse
my life with inspirational needs to survive
in a void where my original being is
exorcised by demands of modern society

Just like the main character in my book,
mentally disturbed and fragile, growing
tired of life he simply jumped off a bridge;
I am not alone in this fight to find meaning,
Beethoven said his life was a nightmare

His body a prison in which his spirit was held
hostage – at least I am in good company…