Depressive Dreams

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

"Pain is never permanent but tonight it's killing me"- Neck Deep, "December".
This is another very personal piece that I wrote tonight after listening to some sad songs and feeling emotional. I've had the title for this in mind for a long while but never quite knew how to write it, but I finally wrote something I feel proud that carries the name. Also, this could be consider a sequel or companion piece of The Ballad of Melancholic Wisdom, because it's written in the same type of style. This one is more angry than sad but I kinda just went in whichever direction my mind went in without trying to stay to one topic, so if it seems all over the place, that's kind of how my head is right now. Also, this one has much harsher language, and some is directed at people. Yes, I use a racial slur in this but it is a direct quote. No jokes. This is all reality, and censoring or limiting myself isn't something I do, as it's not a reflection of reality. Anyways, that about sums everything up. I hope you enjoy another look into the person behind the screen name, and this intimate look into my mind. Enjoy.

*Reached 100 Reads: 7/26/16*

I need these words to connect on this paper,

Before I go batshit insane.

I want you to sit back and listen to me,

As I talk about these Depressive Dreams.


I got a lot of problems,

And a bullet might be able to solve them.

Some nights I can’t do anything but cry,

Lie to me please, one more time.

Tell me you love me when we both know I suck,

Luck has never been on my side,

I’d sooner die than tell you how I feel.

Watch my life playback on a film reel,

Steal my heart just to break it again.

You’re not even sad about what you do,

So I’ll drift off into a depressive daydream once again.

 


I seen that shadowy dude about a thousand times,

A pitch black humanoid demon, whose only job is to kill me.

I saw that thing crawl out of a shadow in the wall,

And shoot me dead in the middle of math class,

Alas it was just a dream, wasn’t rooted in reality.

I’ve been shot a thousand times in my head,

And I’ve seen people lay me to rest,

Arrest me and lock me in the psych ward,

That’s where I belong so I don’t hurt nobody.



Sometimes I wanna die in a car crash,

Just bust 100 miles and hit a lightpole.

Or crash right through the walls of a store,

And hope to die a relatively painless death.

Do I think about collateral? Yes and No.


 

I don’t wanna take anyone else out with me,

But sometimes suicidal rage gives me tendences,

To go and hurt someone else to alleviate my pain,

Drained of all morality all I wanna do is hurt something.

The other day I smashed up an old binder in blind rage,

Caged up inside are eighteen years worth of pain,

And when I finally let it loose God knows what form it takes.


 

I feel like I’m being driven insane,

My head is cloudy and foggy like someone hotboxed it.

My friends help me a lot, they really do,

And this is by no means a diss to you.

I love all of y’all with all my heart, I do,

But shit when I’m speaking here I’m just being real.

This isn’t meant to scare you or hurt you,

I just have a hard time expressing my feelings.



I’ve been wanting to cut so badly,

Feeling like I’m stuck in a rut.

I’m supposed to go see you in a few days,

But my family might just drive me insane.

Half the time I feel like I’m only a second away,

From a complete nervous breakdown,

Shakedowns gonna occur if I ever get pulled over,

I’ll felt up just cause of my skin color.



I’m not black, but I’m also not white.

My own family members think I’m a thug,

Just cause I listen to rap music,

And my pants don’t fit right,

What’s gives you the right to call me a thug?

If you want me to act like a thug, I can do.

Cuss your bitch ass out and fucking knock it out too.

 

 

I’m always oreny so don’t step to me,

Motherfucker I’ve nearly beat my own friends up.

I’m angry but sad at the same time,

Rhymes are flowing just as the tears are,

Running like waterfalls down my face,

I hope you read this and are able to relate.

 


This writing shit is all that I have left,

My blood, sweat and tears are all on this shit.

I’ve been stripped of my voice for so long,

Last year I said enough was enough,

And any motherfucker who pissed me off,

Is gonna hear me scream like a banshee.

Cause fuck being silent, like I’m gonna take shit,

Lying down face first and being fucked in the asshole.

I especially had enough with a racist fuck.

 


Matter of fact, let’s talk about that.

To the racist fucker who gave me trouble,

Even a year of not speaking doesn’t make me like you.

I hate you with every pore in my body,

I want you to die so badly, it hurts me.

You told me you treated me like shit cause I’m black?

Maybe I should’ve applied pressure to your neck,

Until your heart stopped.

And I know the type of things you say under your breath,

You walked by a table of black people,

And muttered “FUCKING NIGGERS.”



And to the friends of mine that talk to him still,

You just love to piss me off, don’t you?

I don’t believe racists can change their ways,

I’ll see that fucker at the reunion in klan robes,

We live in the United States of AmeriKKKa,

I know that and you all fucking know that.

I got off track here, but the point is this,

I was driven so mad I dreamt about killing you and then myself.

Cause even when I’m fucking enraged and getting violent,

Half of that violence is directed at myself,

Cause I’m always dreaming these depressive dreams.


 

I’m always sad much like the wonder years,

Ears are wide open to their newest album.

That shit resonates with me so deeply,

I have it on constant repeat so I don’t cry,

Lie to me again and tell me I’m worth something,

It helps ease the pain even though the truth is know.

My blood spills all over these pages,

I put so much work into this I just want people to like me.

I feel as though I am unloved and unwanted,

And maybe that explains these depressive dreams.



Job market is as dry as the west coast,

Most people that I know have some work.

I’ve spent a long time trying to find one,

But it’s as elusive as Waldo and Carmen Sandiego combined.

Half the time this is shit that bothers me most,

I even have a cut from when a ginger fuck said some shit to me at the wrong time,

So if you ever wonder about the scar on my right arm,

That fucker is the one who pushed me over the edge.


 

I don’t speak to him no more and I like it,

I knew him for thirteen years but he wrecked our friendship.

After high school I cut other the cancer in my life,

And he was like a tumor in my FUCKING HEART.

Art is my escape but I wish I got paid for it,

I still want a normal part time job though.

I’ve only got about sixteen to my name,

And I always said some days if I can’t find work,

I’d just take a knife and have a field day on my throat.

Cause that’s the shit that’s always going through my mind,

As I keep dreaming, my depressive dreams.

 


I don’t want your sympathy, that’s not what I want,

You can be sorry for me if you want,

But I don’t need it.

I just want you to know who I really am,

Behind the screen name,

Renamed myself Melancholic Wisdom online,

But offline my name is Nik,

And I’m fucked up in mind, body and soul.


 

I want you to see what’s going on with me,

And know the person behind the screen name.

You heard me speak on the Ballad,

And now I’m back again.

Just like herpes you cannot get rid of me.

I’m always there in the background,

I might not say much but when I say a little I say a lot.

So if you do not like me, FUCK you.


 

I don’t give a shit if you hate,

Rate me on a scale of one out of ten,

I don’t care cause you’re just a DISEASE that needs to be TERMINATED.

We’ve reached the end of this now,

Cause I’ve told all I want to tell,

But if you wanna consider this a sequel to the Ballad,

It’s whatever cause I kinda do too.

This is another installment in the ongoing struggle that is my life,

Last time you got your intimate look into my world,

And this time I’ve introduced you,

To the Depressive Dreams of Melancholic Wisdom.


Submitted: September 06, 2015

© Copyright 2022 Melancholic Wisdom. All rights reserved.

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Comments

ClairyCherry

Damn... That was... passionately well-written. I could vividly detect the anger you had composed in your poem. I noticed by each stanza, it was getting more intense. It was like all of the emotions you bottled up inside we're coming out like a beacon. You wanted people to listen, but don't want any pity, just someone to listen. That's how I am too, but sometimes people think it's easier to sympathize than to listen to somebodys feelings. I noticed your words were getting darker by each line, but I like that because it added the tone voice to tilt. I did like how you bolded some of the words, it expresses the emotions more and some of the cuss words. So I'm happy you added a second part to this, and I really do enjoy your style. I'm also glad you added problems to our everyday society, sometimes people need to hear it. Anyways, that's cool you can do art, the only thing I'm good in art is drawing stick people and that's it sadly. Anyways, Powerful poem, Good job, like:} And one tiny little critique, on stanza 6 and line 7. Change scared to scare.

Sun, September 6th, 2015 3:17am

Author
Reply

Firstly, I'd like the thank you for the kind words. Most everything is passionate, especially when I'm angry, which I am feeling a bit frustrated. And as I was writing, I slowly became angrier and angrier. I have bottled up a lot, and sometimes it's hard to explain how I feel through talking, so I figured that I might as well try to write. The same thing goes for the darker tones as well. I went back and bolded some of those words because I want attention drawn to them, just so you'd see how pissed I was. Especially the part about the racist guy I knew. I debated the using the words "nigger" as I was afraid it would be taken out of context. But then I realized I have to use it because he did actually say it (never to my face) and it needed to be said. When I said Art, I was talking about writing poetry was the art. I can't draw worth shit. And yes, I did add in some societal problems as well because that not only has directly affected me but it affects a lot of other people as well. I guess all of these types of writing are connected in the sense that they're all very raw and involve me opening myself up. These are usually pretty powerful and they always go over well. Also, I didn't that error, so thanks for pointing out. I fixed it. Thank you for pointing it out, because ultimately this is a piece of work that needs to be criticized, so I appreciate that. Thanks for the comment, I really appreciate it, especially in these types of work.

Sat, September 5th, 2015 8:35pm

Keke Serene

Hiiiiii Nik, my names Ikeasha. So nice to meet you! Or well, a part of you. I could write a ten page paper on this, but I wont. I'll point out parts I deem worthy of mention, although the entire piece is a intricately dark, yet well written poem. Is like to say that I like the way you connected several poems in this I FEEL SPECIAL BC I GOT THE REFERENCES BC IVE READ A LOT OF YOUR POEMS. "I'd sooner die than tell you how I feel." Um yes. Afraid I'd sooner kill myself than even consider reaching out for help for multiple reasons that fall under one you wouldn't care, or two im not worth it or three im supposed to do this. But do NOT wish phych wards on yourself! The one I went to here in fl, Vista, was a nightmare! I got yelled at and had to write essays on topics like why I wanted to kill myself and I was there for ten days!!!!!!!!!!! A car crash, man, that was my way too. I'd always think to blast the horn so I wouldn't hurt anyone else though, mostly bc Id think that if I somehow survived and the other person didn't I would be super guilty and upset and basically charged with murder. Yeah, I hope I don't crack one of these days and just go literally mad, that would not be good. :/ but I think smashing binders is acceptable for now anyways. Yes, people have a tendency to categorize Ppl just bc they listen to certain music or dress a certain way... Really Nik! Your pants don't fit quite right XXD that line just killed me right there! I honestly can't stand sagging lol, no offense meant, cuz like its literally not appealing at all. I don't think anyone finds it appealing and Ive no idea how it became cool since it came from jails... But I digress. Ugh, racist people. Maybe bc I'm tender hearted or bc I'm black, I just don't understnad how you can be racist. It just doesn't logically make sense to judge someone based on color. It's like small kids liking a car better simply because it's red, when an orange car could literally have better gas mileage and the red car could have bad breaks. Like idk. It don't make no sense being racist. People who use racist slurs... Well, let me rephrase that. People who use racist slurs in a derogatory manner, that makes me so mad, but mostly just disillusioned. Goes back to what I said before- there's no logic in being racist... As far as getting a job, I understand your struggle. I have a job but it SUCKS! I can't wait to get a better job in a few years after some schooling. :) about the ginger, yeah, words hurt a lot. A LOT LOT. My stepdad called me selfish once (and im literally super selfless, id like to think) and I cut myself to pieces for that. One of my worse scars, never forget that. But otherwise, I don't really remember why I cut. I appreciate that bc if I remebered everything I'd prolly be convinced to cut again meh. It's painful that he hurt you after 13 yrs being friends... After so long I just feel like you'd care about someone, yknow? Like where's the compassion? That my tender heart talking again. Oh Hun, you're not fucked up mind, body and soul. Just parts of you are fucked up. You have some beautiful parts too, especially the part that writes poetry ::::::::) (lots of eyes bc I have an eye fetish.) YOU WOULDNT SAY IM FUCKED UP WOULD YOU. Only parts of me are. It's better that way, I'd think :) ITS NOT AN INSULT ITS A BAD WAY OF COMFORT. I'm sorry! Oh herpes, good lord, did you have to bring that in XXD so many gross images!! and unlike herpes, I would never want to get rid of you! I'd be a really self irl friend and like not want to share you with anyone :p you have to keep the good folks (like you!) close :)

Mon, November 23rd, 2015 3:27am

Author
Reply

Funny enough I actually had to go re read a little of this to remember what I wrote XD Some of them are connected, but it's not on purpose. Usually I come to think later how I can connect them together. Lots of this stuff kind of came from how I felt at the time. Also, if you haven't listened to a band called The Wonder Years, oh man they're so good. There two most recent albums are litterally just perfection and they've really helped me a lot with coping. I mean, it made me mad that a reletive called me a thug (or was about to) because I'm a young, mixed race guy. I'm not a thug, and I didn't like being judged for literally no reason at all. Racism is my biggest pet peeve, one of the few things that instantly make me mad to the point of violence just like that. Oh, for sure words hurt, and people underestimate just how much words can destroy a person. It's like a silent killer, but not exactly a silent killer. Me and him and another guy were basically like an unbreakable trio of friends since the 5th grade, but me and the other guy drifted away from him after that, and we haven't talked to him at all since high school ended, and both of us are better off for me. Me and the other guy are still best friends, nothing could ever break that I don't think. I feel like (and might write about) my own brain, but it's like theres some good and some bad. Funny as to re-reading this I remembered everything how I felt, which better helped me write this comment. Thank you for such a long and thoughtful response, I really appreciate it! I feel like you've basically read most every single thing I written, expect for a few things. Means a lot to me!

Sun, November 22nd, 2015 8:27pm

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