Enough

WARNING: REFERENCES TO SELF HARM AND SUICIDE

Mental health is a topic very close to my heart, and not only do i have my own issues, but my twelve year old son too. There is simply not enough provision for mental health, especially child and adolescent. This poem was inspired by a documentary that was on a couple of weeks ago. Broke my heart. NB My son is not suicidal, he has anxiety issues, but many kids are.

Enough

When you’re twelve years old and you’ve had enough
Of this sickened, filtered, twisted, rifted
Motive shifted, Kardashian tit-lifted world
When days are knocking on the doors of empty houses
Gazing through windows of opulence
But at night you’re there again, sleeping rough
In this maze of mental health
In this haze of giving up cos life’s too fucking tough.

So a pill’s a pill
So what if you knock back a death sentence?
What if you let your soul bleed and your tears spill?
And the pills slip down, down
Emotions drowned, regrets not making sounds
Years of heartache and sadness driving your pain to the ground
Pain to the pill to the pill to the pain
Who gives a shit if you sit here and cry again?
No one dares to see you, sane or insane
Hurtling along like a broken bowling ball
in the pre-teen child psychiatry lane.

When you’re twelve years old
And suicide is the coat you covet
And you wear the hat of a depressed diplomat
Playing self-harm cricket with a knife and not a bat
And with each hurt comes another scar
And with each hurt comes another scar
And with each hurt comes another scar
And twinkle, twinkle little scar
I see your tears, I see your fears, I feel your pain from afar
So why doesn’t anyone
Fucking help me?

Is it those poison ivy girls again?
Do their tongues clack their tickety-boo nonsense?
Churning words of insults cursed,
Jealousies
Wickedness in unrehearsed dramas
They know how to hurt the hurting
And the hurting know how to hurt.
You are worth so much more
If your strength would rise up and thrust a fist
through the floor
Of their house of sticks
Then maybe the sticks and stones would break THEIR bones.

When you’re twelve years old
And you’ve had enough of the merciless world
But the world hasn’t had enough of you
And you’re trying to lose your feeble grip
But the world keeps clinging on
And you’re exhausted and your soul is void and blue
And you wish everyone would just fuck off
Just fuck right off
And you could do this suicide thing
You could finally see it through.

But the world hasn’t had enough
Of you

©2020 Sarah Drury

Lithium Chick

I have a mental illness called Bipolar Disorder and one of the medications I have to take is lithium. My illness has taken me to some very dark places but lithium has been a wonder drug for me. I wrote this poem at myself, a sort of dark commentary of my illness. I must stipulate it is not aimed at other sufferers, for i have great respect for anyone who deals with a mental health condition day in, day out.

Pop them pills lithium chick
Pop them pills lithium chick
They’ll soothe your pain nice and quick
They’ll make you sane, they’ll make you sick
Make your daydreams milkshake thick
So, pop them pills lithium chick
Pop them pills lithium chick

You know you’ve no job, no money, no hope
No esteem, no confidence, no dreams
You mope, you mope, you mope, you mope
You think of life on the end of a rope
But that’d be like if you tried to elope
So you car crash along, you do your best,
You swallow the shit that is life, you cope.

Pop them pills lithium gal
Pop them pills lithium gal
Don’t want you jumping in no canal
Don’t want death being your penpal
Keep up yer pecker, keep up yer morale
So pop them pills lithium gal
Pop them pills lithium gal

You know love hasn’t found you yet
You cling to a heart that was struck by a dart
When the doctor delivered his black diagnosis
You’ve spent your adulthood swinging between
Being celibate like a nun and being fucked like a tart
And wondering when your fantasies would fall apart
When your roses and hearts romance would start.

Pop them pills lithium dame
Pop them pills lithium dame
We don’t want you fucking insane
These drugs fucking with your pendulum brain
No free prescriptions down the drain
A faulty gene on the family chain
A train of crazy you couldn’t feign
Never mind the fucking pain
The psycho strain, the trash mind sprain
The shameful mental illness stain
Don’t have the complacency to complain
Don’t blame me for the bloodstain train
So pop them pills lithium dame
Pop them pills lithium dame

You know you’re not like the other girls
You’re not thin as a lath nor dripping in pearls
Your hair doesn’t fall in locks of sanity or wellness curls
You don’t walk with the sheep
For their wool isn’t hoodwinked over your eyes
And their normal ways are not ones you can keep
The mountains are too steep and the valleys are too fucking deep.

Pop them pills lithium bitch
Pop them pills lithium bitch
A female in the sanity glitch
A loony machine without a switch
A girl the other girls want to ditch
A girl to shag but never to hitch
A monster, a demon, an unhinged witch
So pop them pills lithium bitch
Pop them pills lithium bitch
Pop them pills…

©2019 Sarah Drury

The girl in the Black Fur Coat

Smile as wide as a sunset in the Grand Canyon,
Split from side to side like a sacrificial lamb.
Lips as red as two blood soaked rosebuds,
Smiling like a maniac and she doesn’t give a damn.
For she’s riding the wave of a high, goddam.

Eyes as bright as diamonds freshly mined and polished,
Sparkling like crystals reflecting sparks of purity.
Pupils wide, lashes like spiders in bitumen jackets,
Windows to the soul, to the heart of this lunacy,
Wearing the label of madness so well, so beautifully.

Black fur coat glistening in the light of the morning,
Though not real fur as that would be a subject taboo.
Sheen, shining, inky black softness adorning,
Someone else’s second hand castoff, can’t afford new,
Oxfam bargain, Help the Aged? She hasn’t got a clue.

Beneath the fur the flesh of nubile youth invites
The promise of sensuous moments, fleeting thrills.
Young flesh tainted by the smite of madness,
You take your chance, you screw the girl, fuck to her ills.
She parades her vulnerability like a murderer kills.

Her words, her smile, her ringing laughter, painting over
Sea worn driftwood sanity, eroded by waves of quick mind tricks.
Seeking out the thrills for the hell of it,
Drawing in the exploitative wankers and insensitive pricks.
Drawing in those who should have known better than to get their kicks.

And her fine black coat, with the beautiful sensation
Of soft, warm kisses upon her un-worshipped skin,
Like a kitten wearing the magnificent coat of a lion,
The only protection her vulnerability knows,
The only protection from the users and the abusers forcing their way in.
Like the pelt of a blood hungry trophy hunter, his senseless kill a win.

She is a giver, and she gives too much too often,
she sells her soul for a few moments of false affection.
She gives and she gives, and she gives and she gives,
And she casts aside her lying, crying coat of protection.
Her mind and heart are dying from another cruel dejection.

The doors are locked again, another grey, banal day
And the nurses and doctors are characters in a hospital drama.
The psychiatrist has sentenced her to another cocktail of drugs,
And the screaming all around her and the pain and the trauma.
She’s yelling for her daddy and crying for her mamma.

And the coat of many men is abandoned on the floor,
The cherry lips are wiped away like blood pouring down a drain,
The spark of a girl in the throes of joy has been smashed into a memory,
The heart of an innocent is protected once again.
And the girl is taking another fucking trip on the lithium train.

An end to the mental anguish and pain.
And end to the pleasures of a screwed up brain.

© Sarah Drury 2019