Tag Archives: Depression

The Last Train, Until…

Picture ya life on the subway –
Labeled a runaway.
Always taught to chase dreams, but catching them was never imagined.
On the train til infinity, where every malfunction exceeds a boundary.
The sky ain’t the limit, its the ticket.
What’s the difference?
I can see beyond the colors of the prism.
I have touched many moons.
Floating – weightless –
Patient.
Healing myself, still doctoring the wounds from when they severed the ties to my portal.
The only home I’ve known, now it just seems as if love don’t live here no more…
So I roam.
Telling the streets my secrets.
Leaving tattoos when I spit the words penetrate the skin.
The concrete cracks.
A Rose emerges.
The train door closes before I even look back…
I pricked myself on the thorns, I wail as the horn sounds…I realize
My overstanding reality is under attack.
-Vigilant Leighrick

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Broken Open

Still in a room,
A broken mirror reflects flawless smiles of all those that once stared before it.
Gleaming eyes looking for themselves in fragments of light.
I can’t yet see through.

Walking…
My tears and the street lights create stained glass.
Looking at memories abandoned in pictures, and the pain that is sheltered, buried, and concealed in temples.

Implicitly.

Shattered and now broken open.

I pick up the pieces with the roughest edges first.
I cut myself — countless times.

It hurts not to scream!
As a child you are taught that silence is comforting,
Explicitly a fools gold, a dastardly violence.

The blood has been contaminated with secrecy.
Life’s own mystery;
What good is the knowledge of hystori if the truth never gets told?

Exposed.
Undressing wounds
I see myself in rare form….beautiful….
Vulnerable.

This bigger picture envisioned is actually a puzzle;
we are each others pieces.
There are no borders, filters, nor frames….
Regardless not everyone fits, still you are..

Limitless…

-Leighrick

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Welcome Depression Addicts

Welcome…

I do not have dreams. I have a large potraits of reality, everynight, and the next morning it all comes true. I am staring into a black screen, with nothing but frustration running through my mind. It’s begun to tire out my mind, and testing my feelings. Struggling to find the diamond in the rough, except diamonds are oh so cold, and I’m warm blooded. How would the ring fit around my heart? The beats steady pumping, my emotions are getting pimped, my thoughts are getting trampled, and the tears run down my lip.

Open Lab — let them operate on the chaos, putting together the pieces of Lady Chaot!c, and some touches of nuclear spit. The life I lead is unsafe. It’s true misery needs company. Only my company has gone bankrupt to the depths of life’s rotting anatomy. If I die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul take, so it may be that I am a legend in Gods eyes.

With stress as the monkey on my back, unconditional love is feeding it banana’s. A volcano of sorrow has erupted. Is this such a way for a young black female to live her life? The fight for getting a decent education, but its shadow of confusion and uncontrollable exoticism is the only light. I’ll follow that with my heart instead of my mind.

That is why they call me Lady Chaotic, lyrically spiritual, but my opinions are explicit.

Leighrick also.known.as {Chaot!c}

The Tree That Fell in the City

I’m about as ungrateful as impatient can get me.

The type that forgets hospitals exist when I am sick.

And often times, I wish there was only 6.

Like maybe there’d be some balance if the odd didn’t exist.

Fixated on my crowded loneliness.

Wiping my tears as I reminiscence.

Trying to find the “I” in dependent, bout as hard as it gets.

So I sip & I twist.

 

I have dwelled with the premature & tolerated pre-Madonnas.

I’ve disguised my pride and dressed my thoughts.

Been on the same page as many, but rarely ever the same book.

I have mistaken blessings for a curses.

Let go of my ego for equality,

Breaking fast for fallen soldiers in the army of humanity, in the war of morality.

Experienced the experiment of genocide.

Ive stayed inside to hide, then stood tall when no one was around.

Smiled, when inside it’s a frown.

Often –

I walk with my head down.

 

Until then,

The pen personifies my motives.

The paper organizes my thoughts into origami, shifting shapes into my alter persona.

A schizophrenic Gemini, filled with personality, conflicted by decision.

I put my hand up for a time-out but this motion picture, illiterate to intermissions.

Ticketed oppression.

 

I digress.

Throw my hands up in confession

I’m not who you think I am!” —

My soul goes deeper than my reflection.

Complacency is more effortless than depression.

Independence has a currency, Protection.

 

Some say, “Money makes the world go ’round“, but

Its a recession.

So has the world withheld movement?

Funny we think it revolves around us, but

We’re no where close to the moon.

See the solar system?

In my souls there’s a system,

Replace uncertainty with Faith.

Everything lives & everyone dies.

 

You see,

This world might seem cold, and soon these storm clouds will turn to rain.

Meaning — I am the sun that will shine,

As you fret and precipitate, my words will ease the pain.

For every smile there’s 100 times the drops of rain.

So plant your seed, and let the roots dig deeper than what the eyes can see, the hand can touch, and the heart can feel.

Become one with your growth, but never be the one to cut down a tree.

Just because their still doesn’t mean they don’t scream.

….

Did you hear it?

 

-Leighrick

When Dreams Become Reality

When Dreams Become Reality

 

This evening

I found my imagination in the back of my mind.

I’m feeling remorse;  I should have listened to my conscience.

My creativity was knocking on my temple.

Tylenol, shut it up…

Now my hearts paying for it.

I closed my eyes, covered my ears, and listened to my soul cry.

 

I traveled my  medulla oblongata.

I flinch. My dreams turned into nightmares.

I see my imagination lay wasted thin like water.

Fuck!

Paralyzed mind.

My conscience has become the new Cesar.

 

I look left and my creativity has overdosed on refer.

I look right at the nightmares beating my dreams.

I look behind me, and my conscience shaking.

I can no longer witness this.

I look ahead and my imagination is dead.

 

Insanity has sunk in.

 

This is absent Schizophrenia.

I don’t know who I am.

Because of this is Bipolarity;

I can’t choose a feeling!

 

Living poison.

My words are tainted.

My tongue is numb.

My heart is ignorant.

Have I gone blind?

 

Am I jeopardizing my own purity?!

 

Pen to my head.

Placing notebook paper down to surround myself.

I’m making my bed.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder; I’m terrified by making a mess.

 

Leighrick is whispering in my ear,” Chaotic just go through with it“.

 

How did she know that about me?

Who told her my first name?

 

I can’t do this anymore!”

I don’t know what I’m saying.

 

My history is spilling out my closet.

My conscience turned the lights on.

I look left and right forgetting I’m blind.

I stop and listen..

FUCK!

I hear myself dying!

 

Jumping out the bed; I vomit.

I feel around for my inspiration; turns out that’s what filled the sink!

I vomit again.

Except when I flushed the toilet, along with the rejection went my dreams.

 

I leave the red lit room.

Trying to feel my way back;

The walls disintegrate around me.

 

I collapse on my bed.

Place the pen in my hand.

If I’m already dying inside, who’ll appreciate  what’s left?

Beauty is within, but so is deception.

 

Chaotic is talking to me, “Don’t do it Leighrick“.

Leighrick is yelling at me, “Wait, I thought I was Candace?!

Candace is screaming to both of them, “I’m going through with this. I don’t know who I am!!

 

Leighrick says, “You’re Chaotic

Chaotic says, “You’re Candace

Candace says, “Shut the fuck up! Fuck! I’m losing it!!

 

I lay upon my bed of paper.

With a red pillow behind my head.

I want to disguise the blood; for whomever may find me.

They won’t be freaked out when realizing I’m dead.

 

I put the pen to my head.

Pop…

Goes the trigger.

 

Ink consumes my body.

My soul is released.

 

The next morning there’s knockin’ on my door.

The knocks go unanswered…their whispers fade,

shhh, we should just let her sleep.”

 

The poet lays at peace.

 

Just in case you didn’t notice, I committed homicide with the piece.

 

Next time you’ll know not to judge, but

Instead to stop to let the poet speak.

 

Sincerely,

That Chaotic, Leighrickal, Young Lady C.

 

When dreams become reality
When dreams become reality