Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Black Dog Days Trilogy

I went to a writing workshop last week, it was super cool, I learned a lot from some amazing authors and I feel more determined than ever. Part of the writing there was to write something from the perspective of someone who has depression. I wrote 3 pieces! all based off the phrase "black dog days" which is what I think of when I think of a day that is particularly difficult because of depression.

here they are!

1.


Wendy Wonder


Black dog days under a [blackhole sun]
And wonder. Not the good kind.
Wonder where my light has gone,
Wonder about where my world
And all it’s hopes and possibilities have gone
Wonder how much farther down I will go, before
I try again.
Wonder why it didn’t work the first time, who called 911, how it took so long but Ii survived?
Wonder why ther’es so many questions and no answers,
Wonder why all these doctors and nurses look at me
That way.
Will anyone tell me how to get out of this suffocating pain???
I used to breathe, deeply, fully, not it feels like all I can do is
Hold it.
And hope the exhale doesn’t come.
I wonder.


Just tell me it will be ok and leave me alone.

2.

In the Dark

The Black Dog Days feel like walking away from a car wreck: You are alive, but you are also kind of fucked. Maybe life shouldn’t be this way, maybe life shouldn’t be like this. Maye life shouldn’t be. You wonder about all the days you felt so great, deconstruct them, catalogue their anatomy, like some extinct species barely remembered. A decisive action would be nice. A swift and just redemptive swing of some mystical scepter that would shatter all the lies and fear. You catch yourself wishing for unicorn tears, for myths and fairy rhymes. You are trapped here in the dark, and no one is coming to save you. The person who put you here is you. Maybe darkness can match the inside of your eyes and you won’t be able to tell the difference between waking and sleeping, living and dying.

3.

Dualities

Black and Tan like the new moon, subtle and slow
Dancing in slow motion like you’ve had one too many
And gently, like a fog, leading blindly to certain doom
Without sight or speech or illusions of certainty
Dog and Pony shows that distract us from
The real, from the sick and sad desert of the
Darkest moon shining down
The struggle of light and dark and human souls
Places our every morning and every evening on the horizon
Days and Nights an obvious nod to the routine,
The discipline of which we are not a part
And when we descend, the nights and days are what drive us
Into the floorboards of our own disgrace and destruction.

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