Enough is Enough

 

by Megan Blaney

 

Enough! of the negativity

Self hatred

Self pity

Sitting on the cracked tile floor

reflections spearing flesh from scattered droplets

 

Enough! wallowing in darkness

Self created

Self initiated

Lurking in the crevice of a musty attic

eyes peering beneath blankets tossed over mirrors

 

Enough! looking to others for approval

Self love

Self appreciation

Emerging from the soil a changed creation

spine curving in new directions

 

Enough! losing yourself in mindless renewal

Self commitment

Self preservation

Stretching for the sunlight released from twisted bark

new growth fluttering in the wind

 

Enough! is enough

 

*PS – thank you to ismycameradrunk for the gorgeous picture, much more beautiful than the mediocre poetry accompaniment. Check out his blog, it’s amazing and entertaining.

Let’s Have Us A

little chat

written 4/27/2015

by Megan Blaney aka wiedienacht


Why do I feel worse now

Isn’t this supposed to be a cleansing

Of air

A release of some sort


The beginning of my recovery

As it were

But I don’t trust you

I keep my secrets

Close


I lied


I will reinvent you into someone who

Can know me


Am I

Hiding

Using this as an opportunity

Not to face


This gnawing this hunger inside me

Tearing me open from within

This heat searing inside

Inescapable

But I don’t want to

I can’t

So


Let’s just forget we had this little chat

Better

For you and me both

That way


Well at least

Better for me

I don’t know you

Anyway

Mildly Frustrated? Or something of a confession.

Can anyone tell me why I have (for example) two views and eleven likes? It doesn’t make sense to me. Why like something that you haven’t read? :/

Anyway, I wanted to post something different today. I’ve been putting up a scattering of poems that I’ve written, mostly because I think they reflect the stage of my life I’ve been going through. Now I’ve decided to throw up something of a journal.. And wouldn’t you know it, I can’t think of anything to say… So…

This is strange for me. I’ve always been a private person, so this decision to blog surprised me a little. Why share things with a world you’d rather close yourself off from? I guess I can take a little comfort in knowing that most people on this site appear just to breeze through, arbitrarily liking and following you in an attempt to induce you to do the same. Haha. Only kind of kidding.

I’ve been diagnosed recently with depression and anxiety. I suppose I’m in a rather wide, crowed boat. I think something like 121 million people worldwide have been diagnosed with depression, and something like one in ten people will suffer from some form of it at one point in their lives. (You may want to fact check me, I’m relying on my increasingly faulty memory to recall those figures.) Some may find that comforting. We aren’t alone, after all. I find it nauseating.

Maybe I thought that sharing my progression through this illness (and hopefully beyond it), albeit in a somewhat distanced form, would be therapeutic? I don’t know. I’ve begun (yet again) to doubt my decisions. I suppose the best thing to do would be to continue and see, wouldn’t it?

This isn’t what I intended to write about. See what happens when you don’t set goals? 😉

Anyway, signing off for now. I have a warm bed and blanket calling my name.

(Also, what is a slug? Besides an oozy garden creature. It’s under advanced settings, and I can’t find it in help.. probably because I’m lazy.)

Eight O’Clock Sharp

A banker’s commute

Written 5/7/2015

By Megan Blaney aka wiedienacht

Intermittent clouds

Play games with the sun, cut grass sings

Like the vibrating cords of a supplicant

Torn loose from his god

Bringing sweet scent to the air

Birds twitter away

Oh how I wish I could be included in the

Revelry

Their secret lives

The joke’s on us I suppose

A cat stretches, bites at hidden fleas

Bolts sudden from his ambush site, sight

Runs from mine

Behind trees

Alarm calls explode around

Screeching sirens pierce like blades

That settle suddenly on silence, pregnant

With expectations of horrible things

With a hesitant, dare I say brave?

Single sharp sign

The chorus begins again

I walk on

Passing lovers holding hands

And kissing, oblivious to the

Scene transpiring around them

Onto the crosswalk

I pass a thin man, lit cigarette in hand

A gecko tattooed on his exposed wrist

Out of the park, back to the cubicle

At my desk for eight

O’clock sharp