***Pic via Pintrest***
Am not sure why but I feel as though I need to share this. I am in a really good place right now with my medication and having stopped drinking. I use my blue light daily which helps as well as taking my vitamin D. This was the start of my ‘crash’ as I call it in 2014. It is the one and only time that my depression sunk its claws so deeply into me that I needed time off to confront my demons. And confront them I did. This began a journey that ended up with where I am today and the road still unfurls before me.
Jay-lyn December 3/17
Silence spins out like a golden thread,
Distance no longer about space but emotion,
fears and desire combine to hold your hopes together…..
and you watch, and you wait to see if it will crumble.
Living at the seaside in a house made of sand,
a moat keeping the tide from attacking at the banks,
Water creeps closer and closer and still you wait….
hoping that dreams can still come true?
Atop the tower, watching the beast ravage the man
a forest of wickedness and lies,
Protect and keep your faith nigh….
what the hell is going on?
Waking every morning,
a scream upon your face.
Smitten with the devil who tortures you all night.
How did you get here?
Do you really care….
so long as the peace has been written.
The Grim Reaper we fear
creeping through the night
phantom of our dreams.
He is not the one
we should watch for,
but the predator on the streets….
He stalks and whirls
encased in black
shadows are his home.
Creeping and crawling
into our hearts
bleeding dry our bones.
Living on our fears and hatred
gorging on all our despair.
He mocks and sidles
not even trying to repair
but dividing and punishing
all the good people here.
Believing he is a demi-god
master of all
bowing to no one.
Captain of his fallacy
chartering a path to he’ll
to confront the Grim Reaper
and challenge him for his crown.
fellowship of fear.
Memories that twist and bite
vipers that draw near.
Rivulets of blood
creeping down your face
eyes sewn shut
the anguish and pain
that draws nigh.
Originally written in Feb/March of 2016
The little bell jingles and jangles
hissing an alert
‘here he comes’
‘here he comes’
all bow to The Jester.
I see before me tattered lace,
my beloved is trying to outrun me
when will she learn that I am her master,
the love of her life?
These little torments
slicing away at her life
They will strip her of her sanity
cloaking her in my wedding clothes,
and she will forever more be mine.
Ruling together on golden thrones
her shackles will be diamond encrusted
her clothing the best tattered silks
her mind little more than a game I play.
Never mind the hollow eyes
the grayish lackluster smile
this love of mine adores me
and will some day bear mine child.
***I found the artwork via Pintrest on the internet. Artist’s name is David Ksomthing something. I am sorry I don’t have full name. I like his work.***
Twisting and turning, the garden path swirls about.
Lost within the leafy maze
unsure whether those statues are moving
or if it is shadows playing tricks?
I can hear the baying of the hounds
and wonder, can they be for me?
I escaped from the prison of my mind
fighting my way back
from the depths of the madness
only to discover that there is no way out.
I whirl around, fear tangent in the air
my breath comes in brisk gasps
fear reaching out with blackened limbs
ready to encircle,
to capture me and pull me back.
Twisting and turning, the garden path swirls
and the Jester roars.
His laughter savage
as I am pinned,
beneath his silvered gaze.
There will be no freedom,
only a soul mired in anguish
the Jester’s bride,
captured and maddened,
Time and again
I have wished upon falling stars
closed my eyes and wished on dandelions.
I have wished at each birthday
for the exact same thing,
a chance to stand at your side.
I fought this ride of emotion
tried to turn from the stallion
but he nuzzled my neck
until I could not say good-bye.
I hold your memory close by
a secret that I hoard
unable to share with anyone
this festering pain.
I dig deep within my chest
ripping free my shredded heart.
I resist your claim to me
I resist the dreams you have given me.
A soft steady chant
a whispering whine
begins a slow waltz
erupting as the screams begin;
The Banshee’s lament.
Plucking at coiled hair
tears tracking down soiled cheeks
I can hear the soundless tune
that she has wept
announcing our very own deaths.
Time and time eternal
we have tried to outrun
this family’s inheritance
of a crone sitting in the willow chair
keening and wailing
calling out souls to rest.
The Banshee’s Lament
a tale from the old country
brought forth in the new.
The song so seductive
blood falls apace
as I lay at her feet
my death to commence.