I battle my demons the only way I know how
I climb into the ring and start fighting
The demons though, aren't circling
They flee the closure that might bring
They hide in every place: beneath my face
Below my skin, under my waist
Within my heart, inside my veins
They run their course around my brain,
Wear down the path with flooding rain
Till at last these thoughts they cannot drain
I will not last if this keeps up
I can't keep up
Sleep seems my only escape, the only way to stand a darkened day
For eating only exacerbates 
Our heart rates,
The decline of my mental state.
That's daytime.
When most people
Eat breathe laugh learn talk wake,
I hibernate
Wait for a different fate.
Demons in hiding seize my hopes with squeezing fingers
It's relative calm.
They come out at night
They know that I feed on light, need the light,
Breathe the light, so they come to fight
They come in droves
Worries are always first:
Tiny earwigs
Neon colours
Enter every orifice:
Mouth nose eyes ears.
They are a thousand
Fleeting thoughts
Each worse than the last
They fly on tiny bicycles
Cycling, always cycling
Never gone for long
I trap them by writing them down
They can wait 'till morning.
The fears, far fewer, are monsters,
All smelling of iron and stagnant water
They come lumbering through my windpipe from the pit of my stomach
Their movements clanging like steel against glass
They grab for my hopes
I pray they'll pass but when they don't 
I trick them.
Fears are dumb brutes
Tell them you don't believe in them
And they move onto someone else
They'll be back-- oh, they'll be back
But it's a way to keep them at bay.

Anger is harder to beat
A swarm, a hornets' nest of tiny tigers
A million Nothings building Something
A sort of fury I cannot demolish
It is three-quarters me
My blood, guts, tears
Its energy
Anger is built of something more than thought
Something stranger than strength
Anger is tiny tigers, flying without wings
Screaming wordless things 
Clawing, grabbing, killing.
The only way to beat anger is to take his side
So I too come untied
Swing a hammer at my hand to understand
What it's like to be free
To be angry is to be free
To be free is to be angry
I rant and 
I rage and suddenly
 I change
I become
Just one
Of millions
A tiny tiger in another's mind.
I pull away with difficulty
(Anger is such a mob mentality)
I only need to remember that I'm alone

A demon shaped like
I am sucked in
It's Apathy
No, it doesn't make me happy
Yes, it steals my laughing
But it's better than worry
It's better than fear
It's better than anger
Isn't it?
Apathy is a nothing-pit
A sinking sand of nothingness
I cannot sleep there
But I don't have to be awake
Such a tempting offer
How I wish I could stay
I could.
That's the thing.
Apathy is not a demon from the outside
It's a demon from my own mind
I could live here forever.
I cannot beat this demon
I love this demon
I am this demon
It is my dreams- my silly, lovely, ugly dreams-
That save me here.
They call me back
But from the black of nothingness
A voice whispers that my wishes have nothing on this
I cannot touch them.
I can touch the darkness.
I only have to reach out my hand
But my dreams,
Wordlessly speak to me
Show me what I want to be
Leave me hoping.

I have just enough hope left
To wait for sunrise
Yes, another sleepless night
Yes, the worries wait in flight
Yes, the demons only hide
But it's another day and I'm still alive.



The End

2 comments about this poem Feed