Rolling in the deep….

i have bad patches. 

days when life is dark 

days when I’m dripping in sadness 

sometimes the days are weeks 

or

months

but

there is light. glimpses of life.

i struggle. it’s exhausting. I hate it.

there is purpose, though.

i do fight it.
i have a very definite tipping point.

my serious relapses follow an identical pattern 

insomnia cloaks me in a miserable fog

panic stacks come knocking 

guilt, shame, blood 

until i’m paralysed.

every minute of every day becomes intolerable 

the outside world is terrifying 

opening my eyes each morning is overwhelming

i attempt to soothe myself with scalpels 

and

opiates

but

nothing works, nothing lasts. 
i’ve crossed that threshold 

i’m in it.

sex is not the enemy….

a wave of depression has washed over me
if i could hibernate until it passed
i would
failing that, what i crave
is some really hot,
really rough
sex.

i want to be fucked
hard.
sweaty, dirty, sweetly painful

i want to feel something else.

sex acts like a positive form of self harm.
it forces me to stay in the moment
i focus on the sensations
instead
of what’s going on in my mind

when i am in the midst of a sublime sexual experience
i am free
my mind declares a cease fire
i experience peace & joy simultanously
suddenly i’m attractive,
functioning
powerful
i see aspects of myself that are usually out of view

i yearn to be suspended in that untroubled embrace
sex is my favourite medicine.