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My Monsters

Ten Poems of Mental Illnesses

By Alexia VillanuevaPublished 6 years ago 6 min read
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Mental pain is less dramatic than physical pain, but it is more common and also more hard to bear. The frequent attempt to conceal mental pain increases the burden: it is easier to say “My tooth is aching” than to say “My heart is broken.”— C.S. Lewis

One Poem: Where They Live

The monsters live beneath me,

Hanging onto the merry go around

So don’t tell me you love me

Watching butterflies become my

Bones, shattered glass lips

Because I can’t see my shadow

Or why you speak love to me

Yet, my heart is being teared

Into thousand different piano keys,

Returning myself to open stomach

With sickness I can’t let go

Can’t you feel the monsters

When you hold my heart?

As you hold my hand? My mama

Always told me there would

Be boys like you

Monsters no longer hide

Beneath my bed, not in my closet

Like the four year old, who

Couldn’t breathe her parent’s air.

Losing myself in smoke,

Drinking that endures the pain,

Like pastries filled with antidepressants

Like waterfalls rushed with marijuana

And condoms

Drinking to past the pain,

Like syrup in sippy cups

And cotton candy knifes

For rattles against cooked

Flesh

I’m hurting as the words I love

You sound from every lyric, as

My monsters become the lily

Pads and flowers I collect

Like sippy cups and wine covered

Knives

I have no hand to hold,

Wishing these monsters

In every beautiful pancake

Didn’t exist as though every

Fear is every poem in every

Word

Monsters are no longer

The scales, numbers, syringes

Of raspberry cocaine but

Rather the person staring

Back

So, hello my monsters

Two Poem: Inside out as Apple

They say love is the photographs,

Broken watches in the form of the sun,

As though Greek mythology is

The only love stories I know

As insanity is the numbers

Playing in my head, while

Obsession becomes the

Anxiety of thousand blurry

Faces in sea of blue

As words now become action

Because dancing with the devil

Is as beautiful as red dipped

Flowered apples

Kisses on lips that are starved,

Strained like fireworks are for lungs,

Anxiety is the flower pinned to

Her heart like a kite

Waving to seas of marshmallows

In green tea and coffee for addict

Whose head is seeing shadows

In streets as heavy traffic follows

Ahead.

The ceiling "friends" me as a puppy

Would a child, showing me happiness

in his eyes instead

Of breaking

The gravel grabs her by

The waist and one day

He’ll say your mine

Three Poem: Box of Candies

The bed becomes the field

Of strawberries, open-wounded

Heart shaped decks with chocolate

Tears soaking your mind

It's like laughing till you cry

Back to the lion’s cages

But where is my moon

In sea of vanilla stars and frescas

Con crema

As jokes become tears

Made of cotton candy

And green apple gum,

Tasting the bittersweet

Coffee of thousand macaroons

Here I am explaining

Food in beautifulness

Yet, depression is the empty

Icecream box of neoplition,

Mistakes of vodka on sofa

Beds, knowing nothing happened.

Lies in the form of rainbow

Waterfalls leading to dirty

Filled passive aggressive

Poems

Monster in my mirror

Becoming the depression

Of the rocking chair, the food

That can’t be swallowed

And the shirts wallowed

In blood.

Holding depression

In the form of the small

Child next me with frown

Formed in black buttons.

Four Poem: Drinking Bathwater

Flashbacks are like gospel

Songs they never leave

As though the grinch movie

Never existed

I’ve never been able to run

From chocolate roads,

Vanilla rivers and opened

Wounds of jelly beans

Like post-traumatic stress

Does Not exist in your children

As though my monsters

Are the fruit salads, diet pills,

Presents under christmas

Trees and innocence

In lotion bottle

With nail clippers in

The form of beer bottle

As beer hits your body

Like chlorine, blunts

And hallucinations

In brownies

Wishing the birds rested

In my waist would disappear

As they untie the corset

Being told go put on some

Makeup

As though wooden stairs,

Bathrooms, wooden cabinets

And chairs aren’t the novacaine

Of my flashbacks in the forms

Of infant’s sweet hiccups

Bathing in bathwater to be free

Five Poem: Meat and Vegan

Maybe there's two in this

Head of cookies and milk

Wrapped in vegan trays

Of human meat

Breaking hearts in softness

And than hardness were easily

Scarring better than mending

Two mended frankenstein hearts.

A personality of roughness

Stealing my sanity and opening

My legs for someone else,

Yet like strawberries are the monsters

That are mended into one

Diagnosed too many personalities

That became soured water in cup,

of pills and broken, porcelain, white

Dove like plates

Tasting bio-polar cake

On mended depressed lips,

Looking at perfection that doesn’t

Exist because one of me has

Died in Mozart's last symphony

Six Poem: Inability to Talk

His hands don’t calculate

Like the others, whereas

Pain in the ink in dove feathers

Hating numbers, counting

Street lights and loud noises

That become to much to touch

Clouds that no longer exist

I watch from backless dresses,

Audio’s of deathless cigarettes

Because mouth shoots sounds

Of birds he mimics.

Looking for the sun that became

Depression in a sunflower

Of sunflower seeds and yellow

Fingertips of blueberry blood.

Tasteless, bitter and misunderstanding

Because he can’t understand love,

While at the end of the day playing with baby

Blocks at the age eighteen results in

Vanilla retirement places of sweet peppermint

Tea

My hands can no longer hold like

This monster that consumes the heaven

In his head

Seven Poem: Baby Rattles

I sit in high-chairs

Of imagination,

Hands shaking

Like baby rattles

Sucking on forbidden

Bottles, mother’s nipples

That no longer exist,

Wasting love on extreme

ADHD

Hands rearranging

Books, food, papers

And broken hearts

In glass jars

Pointing and laughing

In bathroom mirrors,

Clutching stomachs

Offcuts rushing pillows

Of strawberry blood

Cleaning every piece

Of dirt from her ripped

Skin, her eyeballs turning

Over like turnover apple

Pie

Collapsing in papers

Looking like murder scene

Of hurting heart at the edge

Of blade made of milk

And dark chocolate

For the tasting

I arrange everything I see

Like broken piano keys,

Cleaning each red soaked

Tile that replaces the wooden

Floorboards of my father’s

Bathroom floor

Eight Poem: Ice Cream Scoops

Memories do not reach her stars,

Trees become memories in forgotten

Tastes of food like the monsters

Are eating the icecream of brain cells

Scooping each memory onto cones,

Ripping each cotton ball for every unremembered

Scar, while tasting blood in pizza

Dementia a monster as cruel

As her fingertips no longer feel

The typewriter in home of broken

Riches

Unstable mind, not able to be saved,

Turned into a child’s building blocks

That are her new favorite tool better

Than the unused condoms

Nine Poem: Paper Skin

The chemicals become

The imagined boat,

Cotton candy pills,

But no-cure for

The crazies

They are called.

Glazed over eyes

With galaxy skin

She can only see

As though every

Shadow is her own

Drawing her skin

With baby rattles

Dragging her skin

Like paper

Entering her mind

Of rainbows, with burns

And bruises of hidden

Toothbrushes

Because her mind is

Imperfection

Beauty hidden

In candies, paintings

Of demons

To the girl that sits

In the back of class

Feeling schizophrenia

In her veins like espresso

Shot of sad music

For the living

Ten Poem: Closing the Chapter

They repeat each stroke

Of the painting like losing

Sanity is the spice on donuts

And sugar on butter cookies

Shaking cheese on pizza

Multiple times because it never

Looks right as couples confuse

The mind like monsters

We can see

Standing lighthouses,

In darkness never seeing

They stare back as

Smiling becomes the OCD

In her coffee

Wiping and pinning each

Bloody rose-gold pin

As her pain becomes the problems

On the white board of ugliness

She can’t wipe away

Stacking each knife

In her throat like balloon

Made of throw up

And unicorn cupcakes

She cleans each red spot

From her wrists as the monsters

Caress her wrists in distress

Closing the last chapter of her monsters

surreal poetry
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