Unwritten

Christine Ray

Brave and Reckless

Thinking today of Chester Bennington and Chris Cornell and Robin Williams and all of those whose lives have been lost to depression and suicide but did not make the headlines or the social media news feeds.   I have walked in your shoes.  I have put my leg over the bridge, stood at the open 13th  story window and considered walking out, have thought I was nothing, thought that others would be better off without me.  Those are the lies depression tells us.  You mattered.  You are missed.

Inspired by Phases  by Kevin Kantor & Sienna Burnett


the suicide note

she did not leave

left a faint  imprint

on the wooden table

where they would sit and talk

over cups…

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You’ll Look Back

Nicole Lyons

The Lithium Chronicles

It was easy for you,
to pack up everything
and shove it
between our memories,
and anything good,
I used to be.
It was nothing for you,
to take and leave
without looking back.
But I am done pacing
pathways down hallways
in this empty shell
you left behind,
and I swear to God,
you’ll look back
when the smoke hits
the air and the flames
lick your heels.

© Nicole Lyons 2016

Art Cred – Rimel Neffati

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Kneeling In Jumpers

Jimmi Campkin

jimmi campkin

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She told me; stop picking at my food.

Chomp, mutter, cough, clink, the exciting sounds of the restaurant.  Can’t relax next to the window.  Taxi cabs beaming across my face, the room flicking yellow as they indicate to go either or.  I drink too much wine, too quickly.  Not even at dessert and I’m glued to the chair.  I cannot move because that’ll give everything away.  I feel like the floor is rolling surf, and I am trying not to capsize.

She told me that God was like Apple, whilst flicking her phone.  Deliberately creating things that were inherently designed to be flawed and eventually fail, just so they can be replaced, and the users punished.  Hacking away at a piece of steak, a rhetorical question meanders over the candles; why create something just to be adored?

I tell her television careers have been built on less, and she doesn’t…

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Another Scrapped Suicide Note/Nathan McCool

Nathan McCool

Blood Into Ink

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Jesus isn’t waiting for me anywhere. I nailed him

to a tree. A long time ago. And hell fires are extinct to me now. I can no more believe 

in them than I can the idea that mercy was

coming for me and just lost its way. 

I write this in a field – Gaia’s emerald hair is

what leaves this paper water damaged.

I am not crying now or even fighting tears,

for once.

If you could see me now you’d know 

that I’m smiling. Like I never have before.

I do not know if we really take anything with us 

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Walk away

Erich Michaels

erichmichaels

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Maybe he was conditioned to walk away

Perhaps he sensed its coming

Lowering himself into the blocks

When she said it was over

That was the starter pistol’s report

Off he went

Maybe he witnessed the maternal bond

Who was he to try and fuck with that?

As much as he could give

He felt he’d be a little short

It was something he couldn’t deny us

Arms limp at his sides, he walked away

I like to imagine that he argued

That he cried in attempts to stay whole

That he held us in his arms

Tears streaking down his face

The look of a broken man

His face a setting sun melting into the ocean

I like to imagine that he called constantly

Trying to make amends to bridge the distance

That we were at the forefront of his mind

That he showed up uninvited

Diapers under one…

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