Apology(ies)

So full of self-hatred

That when death comes to call,

I’ll punch that fucker

Square in the jaw.

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The Storm After Dawn

This concept came to me as I dwelt in the darkness of depression inside my mind. I felt as though the storm of the previous night had been cast into my body and that nature had cleansed itself at my expense.

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Into the Sun

Floating through darkness

The coldness, the emptiness

Out in space, the void consumes me

I cling to hope. My crew is gone

Abandoned unto death, I float without end

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Lost at Sea

Tossed above the waves as dross amongst refuse
Yet still I remain afloat
Crossed, the lovers’ stars become a woeful recluse
Existence once pleased, becomes bemoaned

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Burn of a Thousand Failures

Dark times produce dark writings...

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Thoughts on Depression

I’ve never really been one to struggle with controlling my temper/anger, or rather letting it get to me so deeply that it goes to a violent end. I’m not a violent guy, nor do I particularly enjoy confrontation. But one thing I’ve never been able to control is the inexplicable sadness that accompanies depression.

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Winter's Pane

Sitting in my pick-up looking at the world outside and reflecting on my world inside, I noticed some similarities...

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Death Sequence

The lyrics to this song during a dark bout of depression and hopelessness. I see them them as a reflection of where I was, not where I am. I write to rid myself of these feelings that so often plague me. Feelings of worthlessness. Insecurity. Self-doubt. Insignificance. The music came to me unrelated to the lyrics, but the guitar rhythms called my mind back to this particular poem and it was done. 

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Abomination of Creation

I wrote this today while at a particularly low point. Reflection is often a curse to me for some reason. My mind over-analyzes far too many details of life and leaves me feeling a failure, a coward, alone. I drew comparison in this poem between the act of awaiting execution and awaiting forgiveness, both requiring the subordinate to kneel before the master of his fate.

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Hellworm

A familiar theme in my writing through the years, though this one is fairly recent. I believe I wrote this last summer.

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To Find the Peace in Madness

Melancholia came to visit again today...she doesn't come around as much this year but when she does, she stays a while...I'm trying...

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Discontent in Misery

I honestly don't even remember writing this other than I know it was about 2-3 months ago. Apparently an infection I needed to get out of me...

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Last Night in Hell

Some dark lyrics to a song I was working on...

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Contagion

I have struggled with self-worth and self-esteem for much of my life. I've come to understand in recent years that this is not a character flaw as I have previously thought, but rather a personality trait that has driven me to overcome adversity in unique ways. I think this is why I listen to the music I do and write the music that I do, because it speaks from a dark, helpless place but forges with aggression a will to rise up and overcome. Written in three parts, Contagion outlines three internal dialogues: confrontation with myself in the mirror, first person self-narrative, & third person self-reflection with the last line being an invitation extended to others.

photo by Max Chavez

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Trust No One

Don't really remember where I was mentally when I wrote this one, but it was not a pleasant place from what I can tell from reading this.

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Unanswered Question

This one's gonna get a little dark. I don't actually remember when I wrote this one, but as someone that has struggled with depression, writing has been one method of exposing my feelings in an attempt to cope with them. This is a recurring theme I've noticed in my writing through the years. I rarely read old poetry after I pen it, but to look back on some of these darker times makes me feel a little stronger knowing that I survived whatever it was that I felt was dragging me down.

A branch to be pruned before it’s in bloom

Thorns in my knees and blood tainted hands

Praying in brambles with no light of moon

Misery’s pleas outnumber the sands

A sanguine bath blurs my eyes

Why do I have to be alive?

Wings of a dove clipped just before flight

Falling in spirals of destiny’s making

Just as the arrow shot swift through the night

A nightingale silenced before it can sing

Corpse of mortality covered in flies

Why do I have to be alive?

Drowning in pools of cold memories

While warm blood is trickling down trembling limbs

Coughing, I feel my lungs start to seize

The match will not light amidst circling winds

Desperately sifting life’s sands filled with lies

Why do I have to be alive?

I call to the Heavens, entreating demise

Gathering black skies mocking my plea

Boots of my conscience having muddied through time

Endless my suffering, Death, set me free.

Why do I have to be alive?

  by Derek Herzberg

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