go to the dogs

i submitted a poem i wrote to this arts contest and ended up winning last night! i thought I would share the work with you guys here :] i wrote this poem about my experience with depression and rapid decline, how suicidal thoughts follow me everywhere. hope u like it XD

You don’t remember the day he appeared by your side

But recently, you’ve let in a stray with jet-black fur and eyes like obsidian.

Death’s hot breath wakes you from your restless sleep.

It’s morning again, you think, but your confidence wavers,

For you’ve had your blinds shut tighter than your throat

Out of fear of someone seeing the mess you live in:

The dirty dishes, the abandoned hobbies, the dead aloe vera in the corner,

And, besides, Death hates the Sun’s vivacious touch.

That’s fine, the daylight only overwhelms you.

It reminds you of all the things you need to do

Yet are somehow unable to,

Like a handler who’s lost his leashes

And conceded all the dogs to run loose in the wake of his surrender.

Your alarm rouses you from your thoughts - Late, again.

All you want is to rot into your covers until every living thing outside rots with you.

It takes all of your strength to pull your body from your bed, your grave,

And when you finally manage it, 

Death jumps down from the bed and follows you.

He whines incessantly at your heels while you try to make breakfast.

You can hear his saliva drip onto the floor behind you.

He hungers for nearly everything you have;

So you give your food to him instead, to stave off his cravings.

Returning to your bedroom now,

He sits himself in front of the dresser like a statue.

That’s fine, you’ll wear clothes from the floor.

Then, he lumbers over and poses pretty before your mirror.

As you stare him down, stare yourself down,

The reflections merge into a confusing, bestial amalgamation.

You’re unsure where exactly you begin, and begin to tear up.

Just get out the door, you think, grabbing your backpack,

And Death dutifully follows.

In class, he paws at your leg while you try to focus.

(The dog demands constant attention and inordinate affection)

When denied, he scratches the words on the pages in front of you to nonsense.

That’s fine, you feel that you’re too dumb for the work, anyways.

At lunch, the stench of Death permeates the room.

Your friends all know well the root cause

And there’s only room for one, not two, at the table,

So you turn up your music and eat alone.

He mimics your friends’ laughter in his barks until not even you can drown it out,

Finally leaving the lunchroom and its echoes for home,

Death, of course, following close behind. 

You’ve skipped your clubs yet again.

After a long day of play, Death is far too tired to attend.

That’s fine, you haven’t felt the urge to go in months, either.

You dump your body in your bed, exhausted,

Now weighed down definitively by the dog laying across your feet.

There feels to be no escape from such unfortunate loyalty:

He imposes his demanding needs onto yours,

He frightens away your friends,

And some fights have even left his teeth marks on your wrists and throat.

Most every night, you end up staring at him,

There, breathing rhythmically at the foot of your bed,

And you breathe with him, just to feel less alone.

You’ve done everything possible to rid yourself of the stray

But you just can’t seem to give him away.

He feels like the only companion you need at times

With a heart as hollow as yours and beating twice as fast.

You decide to keep him, just for one more day,

And finally let your eyelids drift close.

Then, without hesitation, as you step into the land of dreams,

Death follows you there, too.

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