Tag Archives: Depression

DEMETRIA by Jeffrey Littrell

 

I’m an expendable product of the Prozac Nation

fighting depression through self-medication

you might look at me with utter disdain

but you’ve not walked my path, you can’t feel my pain

 

she is a beauty of Greek descent

with dark eyes that are heaven sent

she walks into rooms with a sexy swagger

and a come-hither stare that cuts like a dagger

 

I can’t alter the past and not sure I’d want to

she is long gone and my friends left are few

alone in a storm, tears masked by the rain

southbound to Hell on this runaway train

 

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NO CLOSURE by Jeffrey Littrell

 

like a man without a country

or a vessel lost at sea

I’m an outcast who is exiled,

a forgotten memory

 

I’m a musician with no instrument

a sun without a sky

I’m an unachieving, bi-polar, trainwreck of a guy

 

I’m a wild Appaloosa,

crazed and chomping at the bit

I’m a junkie with no drug of choice

who lacks the will to quit

 

I’m a pulpit that displays no cross

I’m a bullet with no gun

I have no sense of closure,

as my journey’s just begun

 

I’m a cosmic astral traveller

on a course from star to star

I’m the introverted loser

left alone at the end of the bar

 

 


SUMMER SOLSTICE BLUES by Jeffrey Littrell

 

one more sunrise you won’t see

one more poem you’ll never read

another wasted night alone

where you won’t call me on the phone

 

it’s strange to even say your name

it somehow doesn’t sound the same

no mirror reflects your image now

I wish you could return somehow

 

no one rides shotgun in my car

I sit alone now at the bar

when times are hard, when days turn black

I call out, but no one answers back

 

 

 


CHASING SCREAM QUEENS by Jeffrey Littrell

 

go ahead and run

run screaming like Linnea Quigley

from me, the disfigured monster

 

instead, you’ll crawl away

slithering into the brush, to hide

until I’m gone

 

{ The barista at Starbucks asked my name

with resigned apathy. Then, she had the nerve

to draw a smiley face in the froth

of my cappucino. Later that evening,

splashing through the pissing rain,

I rush into a bar off of Mass Ave. 

 

The Starbucks girl is the hostess.

 

“How many ?”, she asks me,

with the same resigned apathy as before.

She has no recollection of me,

or of the damned smiley face that she drew earlier. }

 

go ahead and run

run screaming like Jamie Lee Curtis

from me, the hideous leper

 

instead, you’ll lurk in shadows

listening with rapt attention

until I draw my final breath

 

 

 


Insignificant Other by Jeffrey Littrell

 

it’s sometimes a dismissive glance

or just a cold, hard stare

that breaks apart my self-esteem

laying my emotions bare

 

paths are left untrodden,

I’m perpetually alone

carrying a burden

that weighs heavy, like a stone

 

sunrises come and go, unseen

I sleep, but do not dare to dream

I reach for a hand that isn’t there,

imagining I smell her hair

 

I play my guitar, I don’t know why

my harmonica weeps, it starts to cry

the chords I strum drip sacrificial blood

as dark as a tempest, as deep as a flood

 

 


THE DARKER SIDE OF ME by Jeffrey Littrell

 

It’s the darker side of me

a side I seldom share

born from a place of anguish,

loneliness and despair

 

It brings to forth an anger

that I just can’t suppress

It’s a cold, black hell I dwell in

the spawn of misery and duress

 

It’s the darker side of me

there’s comfort in the pain

I feel sadness in the sunshine

cleansing from the rain

 

It’s all that one can do

far more than I can bear

to put one foot ahead of the other

when I honestly don’t care

 

I can’t tell if the chaos

or the sorrow’s winning out

I sometimes sit in silence

sometimes, I scream and shout

 

I wish I could be like you

and feel happiness and glee

for me, that’s never in the cards

It’s the darker side of me

 

 

 


NO COVER by Jeffrey Littrell

 

my guitar is all I ever hold

there’s no getting past the lies you told

left picking up the pieces I can find

trying to chase this darkness from my mind

 

life’s become a river I can’t ford

swept away by waves of minor chords

singing to the pictures on the wall

there, where no one sees me when I fall

 

it’s a miracle that I’ve even got this far

singing for Coronas, in a dimly lit dive bar

playing “Thunder Road” for twenty-five

I can’t tell if I’m dead, or if I’m still alive

 

a tweaker sets me up a shot of Crown

then asks me if I know the new Shinedown

my pain subsides as I proceed to play

the neon always seems to cut the grey

 

the waitress said she thought I sounded good

and clapped far louder than she really should

at night’s end, load the gear into the van

I’m driving to Valdosta, just a ghost inside a man

 


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