Category: Trauma

Flashbacks

Flashbacks, Mental Health, My Schiz Life, Nightmares / Night Terrors, Poetry, PTSD, Trauma

My heart races, my palms sweat,

A sigh, a gasp, a moment stollen in silence,

Memories of a dark night long past.

My body quakes, my heart breaks,

Ripping me from my tranquil slumber,

I scratch at the fragments of my reality.

My ashen face soaked in tears,

Your arms pull me into a warm embrace,

Your caresses begin to calm my torment.

“Sweetie I’m here,” you whisper,

Your hand runs through my soaked hair,

The softness of your lips upon my cheek.

The tears are flowing easily now,

Your strokes attempt to calm, to comfort me,

The visions of that night endlessly haunt me.

“You’re safe here with me,” you whisper,

I look up gazing into your caring eyes,

A forced smile crosses my face.

Visions of my eternal nightmare plague me,

Sweetly you wipe the tears from my eyes,

Your lips gently press into my own.

Inhaling your breath awakens my senses,

My arms reach up, slipping around you,

Harder your kiss penetrates my nightmare.

A hand caresses my cheek as your lips part,

A taste of you upon my lips,

I know I am safe with you, my dear love.

Safe at last from the eternal nightmare,

Sheltered within your arms,

Our souls entwined in the intimacy of a kiss.

You my love, you have made all the difference,

A world of sorrow, of self imposed isolation,

Broken down, shared with you my true love.

The Sins of my Past Conceived and Made Flesh

Mental Health, Poetry, PTSD, Sexual Assault, Trauma

The Sins of my Past Conceived and Made Flesh

I wince reliving the same nightmare dreamscape,

Night sweats, daydreaming, wake up – I cry panting for breath,

My jaws are locked open in a silent scream,

A call for help which is destined never to be answered,

Tears of consciousness cascade down my face,

A procession of nightmares flood my tightly clenched eyes,

Haunts me – over and over, I relive the visions,

They are who I was, who I am, who I will become.

A Second Chance Whether Deserved or Not

Poetry, Post-Transplant Depression, Schizoaffective Disorder, Sexual Assault, Trauma

A Second Chance Whether Deserved or Not

Jerked awake in the stillness of the dark of the night,

I’m soaked in sweat, my clothes clinging to me like a wet sack,

Closing my eyes I attempt to stop my hands from shaking,

Tears slowly drip down my cheeks taunting my grasp on reality,

I choke to breathe feeling the knife once again back at my throat,

All I had to do was lean forward and this torment would have been over,

I can hear his fucking voice in my head, mocking me nightly.

I grab your picture on my nightstand, gazing into your eyes,

Dare I tell you of my feelings of inadequacy, is it what you want to hear,

How can I not after all you’ve shared with me,

Surely I’ll be better tomorrow; I know it is a lie,

My trembling fingers caress your cheek down to the line of your chin,

A tear drops onto the glass blurring your lovely face,

I close my eyes hoping to still see you there.

Alcohol used to always make it easier to get through the night,

Just a drink and I can push these thoughts out of my head,

My body lurches forward at an all too familiar thought,

My stomach gurgles in agreement that a drink is not acceptable,

I glance at my picture of my niece and then to you my love,

Am I so weak that I think a drink or a drug would help,

Years of self-medication die hard, but die they must.

My fingers trace over the scar across my belly,

Someone died so that I might have this second chance,

I cannot and will not make the same mistakes this time,

I won’t throw away a second chance at happiness, at love,

Love the word ferments in my mind as I gaze upon your loveliness,

I feel like I’m disappointing you even considering a drink for an instant,

Do I tell you how weak I am, how scared I am without you.

I’d welcome back the physical illness to get rid of the mental,

I am always so filled with doubt, did I deserve this chance,

I’ve done so many truly horrific things in this life,

Is it possible to be forgiven, can I forgive myself,

People tell me I am so strong, why can’t I believe that,

Did I only fight to prove those wrong that said no,

There has to be a reason I was given the chance to survive.

I’d like to drop to my knees and beg your forgiveness,

I’d like to go back in time and change that decision, make it right,

One desire is impossible, the other simply unfair,

The thought of my disrespect, conjures up my feeling of inadequacy,

Maybe I never deserved you in my life as I half fear and believe,

Would you be better off without me – I hope not,

With every fiber of my being I dream of the day you believe in me again.

Trailhead

Mental Health, My Schiz Life, Poetry, PTSD, Sexual Assault, Trauma

I gasp through the blood-caked lips of the sins of my past,
I wince reliving the same nightmare dreamscape,
The nightmare haunts me – over and over, I relive the visions,
The visions of my past indiscretions, visions I cannot deny –
They are who I was, who I am, who I will become.

A gasp, night sweats, daydreaming,
The knife blade caresses my throat,
The weight on the small of my back makes me wince,
My head jerked back, fingernails dig into my scalp,
My hair Entwined amongst grating fingers.

The foulness of his breath permeates my senses,
Nightmare tears of my consciousness cascade down my face,
His breath bathes my skin…filling every pore,
The breathing becomes short and rapid,
My mind preoccupied with pulsating groans.

My jaws are locked open in a silent scream,
A call for help which is destined never to be answered,
The sweat of my shame permeates my soul,
The tears of my horror drench my face,
The sins of my past conceived and made flesh.

A procession of nightmares flood my tightly clenched eyes,
Acquaintances of my past occupy the room,
I inhale deeply melting into the chair,
The room spins and liquefies,
Visions of my friends melt from my consciousness.

My eyes strain to conjure the acquaintances of my past,
A nightmare gaze fills my senses with the scene,
A close friend, a needle impaling her vein,
I strain as she fades from my sight, my reality,
A slap of the face, tears well in my eyes.

I scream into a silent non-listening void,
Wake up, I cry panting for breath,
My tears soak her cheeks during a final embrace,
Her pulse slowly fades in my arms,
Stop please wait, don’t fade away.

The sins of my past weigh down on my soul,
Each day I fight through the memories,
The reality of my past makes up who I am,
I clench my eyes tightly shut,
A sigh, a breath – moments from my past.