the voice




I lay in bed curled up like a foetus
why? I ask
why does it matter?
is it worth? I wonder.
things happen -
they leave imprints on the mind;
is it worth dwelling on those feelings?
why not just let it go?

'it's not that easy', the voice in my head says.
it's been a while since I heard that voice.
I had almost forgotten about it -
thought it had left me for good.

But, it's back -
the sensual voice that had once lured me -
down to the scary pit
and I had followed it as if in trance,
an unknown force had then pulled me towards and 
into the arms of the demon
waiting for me in the dark.

the voice takes me back to those days 
when that putrid breath was a part of me
it followed me everywhere
it was with me, in me, all the time.
awake and asleep
its existence merged into mine.

I had made peace with it, 
allowed it to take over
given in to the assault 
the voice had let me believe it was consensual.
the surrender, the hopelessness
it was acceptance of what was
and what would be.

and then, suddenly I was free of it.
I could breathe again and the voice was gone.
my body felt like mine again.
the headaches disappeared.

I saw the demon, sometimes -
laughing at me from the distance
it was waiting for its chance
to consume me again.

now -
it has sent its messenger ahead
the voice in my head
soft and sensual, inviting.
the voice has brought back the headache
and the light-headedness
it's not worth - the fight, the struggle...
give in - it tells me
you belong in its arms, the voice says to me
let it embrace you, 
because no one loves you more
than the demon that lurks in the dark –
it assures me.

forget everything else but the fact that 
in sight or out of sight
the demon is here to stay
and you belong with it.
the voice lures me back again -
down to the bottomless pit
and I follow once it again as if in trance;
an unknown force pulls me once again
towards and into the arms of the demon
waiting for me in the dark.

I hear the voice let out a soft laugh
as the demon embraces me
my chest tightly pressed against it.
I cannot breathe in its tight grip.
its mouth is close to mine
and I smell its breath.
I close my eyes and breathe in the smell.
I like it now, love it in fact.
the voice whispers seductively
yes, this is it …
this is what is meant to be.




Return to Main Page




Depression is REAL

click on image to read and 'load more' to see more poems