A bitter taste lingers in my mouth,

The taste of vile repulsion,

Years of shame, self-hatred,

Built on acts so irresponsible,

So impulsive, reckless,

No regard for any person

though each one is irrespective

in the throes of manic self-absorption.

It is there, like Midas’ gold,

Glinting in seduction,

Reaching out to grasp

my materialistically mesmerised

collapse of teetering sanity.

My only limitation being

The ability to limit

my recklessness,

To abandon the wisdom

 of abstention.

The creditors’ letters sit in a pile,

Like teachers waiting to scold

And perhaps to chastise,

with a whack of the punitive cane.

Every word burns a scar

Into my defeated, guilty self,

Etched upon my self esteem

Like a deep, raw, acrid wound.

And yet again,

My soul mourns its own stupidity.

© Sarah Louise Drury 2019

I was just that child,
That human thing so fragile,
Bud which shakes in fear
Of blooming into splendour,
Fearful of my light.

I was just that child,
All bottled up and strangled,
Optimism snuffed out like
Choked laughter, kill
That happy, happy joy.

I was just that child,
In corners cowering,
The hollowness of all my tears
Cascading into pools of
Just invisible, all nowhere.

I was just that child,
My dreams and fantasies
Paraded in a stream of
Vicious parody, stupidity,
Cheap dreams, ten a dime.

I was just that child,
That ray of hope within,
Refused to let the demons down me,
Crush me, rising from the ashes
Shining Phoenix child.

Oh to reach beyond the veil
Of death,
It’s frozen, deadly shiver grasp,
Of ice-cold, gripping, snatching,
Vicious creeping
Snuffing out life’s lamp
Like Florence nightingale becoming blackness.
Oh to dance with death
To raise unholy mayhem
Drag the sleeping from
Their icy duvets of
Sweet dead unconscious,
Frolic, merrisome, and raise a cup
My friend to drunkeness
In death inebriated.
Oh to take death by the hand
Of love
Hot blood pumps
Passion, yearning,
Melting frozen deadness
Rivulets of new sprung life
ghost of
Love pained longing.

I want to lose myself
I want to forget that I am.
I want nothing less
Than everything, always.

I want to be the ocean
I want to sink into oblivion
Like an innocuous anchor
Lunging towards the seabed.
I want to float in the sea of anonymity
Conspicuous yet no one.

I want to be the bubble
That amuses the baby
Then pops into non existence.
I want to fly, hurtling towards the sun
Like Icarus, to be consumed
By its fiery flares.

I want to crawl back under my stone,
Into that safe harbour of my past
And us, my love.
I want now-ness in yesterday
I want it back
I want us. Again.

My husband passed away 2 years ago in April. He was waiting for a new heart. I still grieve…

The blackened nights stretch far beyond
The ever ceaseless universe,
Ebony dark but not so black
As is my poor tormented heart.

Suffocating, gasping, hell and
Heaven, hopeless,
Frozen time in moments,
Shattered mirror, broken life.

Let us slide into the past,
Make memories alive,
Reanimate, lets create
A frozen moment fiesta.

Drag me from this searing painful
Pit of nothingness,
Help me see again the light
Of life in your eyes.

Raise me from the dead,
A resurrection of the heart,
I have died a thousand times, I beg you,
Bring me back to life.

I have manic depression or bipolar disorder. This means that my emotions and moods swing violently between depression and mania. Some days I wake up full of the joys of spring and other days its a real effort to get out of bed. This was a bad day…

This morn the sun forgot to rise,
A veiled, grey, nightmare moment,
web of ‘no I cannot do this day’ once more,
Beneath plump duvets of obscurity.

This morn the clock just laughed
A hollow, crazy cackle,
Random scattered moments painted on
A timeless time machine.

This morn Her mind just broke
Innumerable insane fragments,
Shattered, broken remnants, looming,
Grasping at insanity.

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