Ebony. Emptiness; no, the void itself. Color in nothingness, smoothly plaited back and pinned firmly up and away.

Sepia. Rich red-brown, warm in undertones. An unbroken expanse, save the pale pink of raised scars wound around wrists.

Eyes. A rich brown, but cooler, harder. Filled with the weight of struggle and torment, loss and constant grief.

Strong. Muscled and sturdy, but not burly. Not without delicate notes, and more balanced for them.

Loud. Brisk, not brash, busy and confident. Unapologetic for space occupied.

The effervescent youth

In your hazel eyes shines with

Such dazzling intensity

That your whole being radiates

Like a bioluminescent creature

Diligently formed

By the hands of God.

Instagram: @incompleteexpressions

Blog: jasamundos.wordpress.com

#poem #poetry #prosaicpoets #depression #mentalhealth #original #shortpoem

if you are schizophrenic a small voice will tell you what number to press

if you are co-dependent some one will press 2 for you

if you are paranoid we know where you are and know what you want and we will trace your call

if you are depressive it does not matter no one will answer you

if you have multiple personalizes press 3456

if you are dyslexic press 696969696969

if you have a nervous disorder fidget with # key until the beep , after the beep, please wait for the beep

if you are obsessive compulsive press 1 repeatedly

if you are delusional press 7 and the mother ship will answer you

Someone said that we were one of the last classes to graduate from the Erwin center.

After all the UT basketball games (during one I fell asleep halfway through), the circus that never failed to make me cry (clowns, no) and being onstage for a Pink Floyd concert, it makes sense I feel done with the place. Yet, there was a last thing I needed this building for. Of all my bad moods I’ve had in my lifetime, this one was a stand out. No, there was no actual real reason I was upset, or should have been. So, I was upset about everything and therefor, graduation sucked. I faked the smiles when friends and family congratulated me after. They didn’t understand, “Why is Jamie, like, pissed off? Shouldn’t she be happy? After just getting her diploma?” Yes, I should’ve been delighted. Now that I think about it though, I could have just been reacting to the future, which at the time there was no logical explanation for. The glare I gave everyone did not make sense. We ate dinner after the ceremony was over, which started out pretty sullen, everyone tip toeing around which questions to ask, which things to say, if anything.

I told my mom through text that my period was the culprit. She almost bought it.

Not really. The next week was worse. Every waking minute, there was another question landing on my shoulder. “Are you depressed again? You’re depressed, I’m making an appointment with the psych. Why don’t you go hang out with your friends. Why won’t you talk to me? Hello?” She told my dad and in a day the whole thing had escalated to all three of us, sitting on the couch, getting instructions from my dad to write a letter to everyone that knew me why I’d done it, why I had gone through with killing myself.

At this point, both of them were convinced I was suicidal again and were seriously considering putting me in a treatment center. Had I just smiled through it all. Had I just kept up the lie that I was happy, the war that the truth brought out could have been left alone.

Maybe it was because my parents were convinced I was suicidal again, maybe it was because I was no longer required to attend emotional and mental hell. Or maybe it was because I was tired of always backing down to obideince. Always the dog on the leash, calmly following it’s owner. And thirteen days into technical adulthood, while I was on a night run as said metaphorical dog, I saw a squirrel. Now usually I don’t chase after squirrels, right, like, they aren’t even interesting. They just sit in trees and jump around in the grass. The squirrel was just sitting there, on this wide bridge on the trail. I thought to myself, “Squirrel? Nah, let’s not.” But then, I saw the squirrel had a camera with it and started taking pictures of the sky. This is not when I lost my shit. This was only when I became slightly more interested.

I thought “Squirrels don’t take pictures, that’s ridiciculous.” But the squirrel continued to take pictures, and I continued to watch. Hmm. Maybe just, approach the squirrel, ask it why it’s taking pictures and then walk away and forget all about it. Five minutes later, I learned the squirrel was from El Aye, wherever that is. A musician. I didn’t want to guess on the squirrels age and offend it, so I just kept asking questions. Soon it was dark and I remembered my owners would probably be worried if I didn’t return home soon. Squirrel and I parted and he told me which tree he stayed in. I guessed he was offering to hang out at this tree sometime. Sounded fun. I told my owners about the squirrel the next day. They thought it was funny I was friends with a squirrel. It didn’t make sense to them.

I didn’t see anything wrong with it though, friendly squirrel, myself, a friendly dog,

what could go wrong? Almost everything.

As a seventeen year old boy, Charlie Jackson expected his life to be full of adolescent fun. Never did he suspect that anything tremendouly devastating would happen to him. He was raised in a quite wealthy family, and was given lots of freedom to experience life as he pleased.

Unfortunately, as you probably concocted a prediction from the first couple of sentences, something went wrong. I cannot say that he went into this problem unknowingly, because that would be somewhat false, but I can tell you he was not expecting things to turn out this way.

On a chilly November night, right after a football game in which Charlie scored a couple touchdowns at, he made love to a fifteen year old girl in the locker room. Of course he knew it was not the best place nor time to, but what happened did.

Three months later, Rose Keller, the fifteen year old freshman, went to his house.

"What's up?" Charlie said, opening the door.

"We need to talk." she frowned.

As she explained to him and his parents the quite unfortunate situation she was in, Charlie could feel his heart pounding in his chest with fear. His parents were in tears with anger and disappointment.

"I can't take care of the baby. You need to. If you don't, my parents will file a case against you and they will destroy you and your family." she spoke as if she was playing a recording from her parents through her mouth.

A couple minutes later, she left the house with her head low and her heart lower. She did not feel affection or love for the baby, but pure hate, as it was produced partly by a boy she thought took advantage of her.

The next couple of months were a blur. She went to her doctor's appointments and he tried to ignore the fact that his baby was coming and continued improving on football.

Mid- August, right before the fall semester started again, Charlie got a phone call from Rose's mother saying that she was going into labor. He didn't care.

A week later, Rose bought the beautiful baby girl home. She kissed her cheek, and left.

He hired a nanny to take care of the baby all day when he was at school. Every single day was awkward. Everybody would stare and talk about how he was irresponsible and a failure.

He still had not named her, and he didn't want to. He did not listen to his parents when they would ask him to pay attention to her, and show her love.

At about 8 o'clock one day, she started crying hysterically in her crib. The nanny was trying to soothe her, but nothing seemed to be working. Charlie was in his room at the time studying for a test he had the next day. He kept listening for the wails to stop, but they didn't. He tried to block out the noise, but it kept bothering him. Angrily, he stood up and stormed to the nursery.

"Julie, what the hell? I can't even listen to myself think!" he shouted.

"I'm sorry sir. She won't keep quiet. I tried picking her up, but she won't stop." she humbly said.

He thought to himself for a minute. Her skin was like caramel, and her hair was beautiful brown curls, just like his. She had chubby cheeks and short plumpy limbs, which Charlie always thought was funny and cute.

"Give her to me." he said. The nanny handed the baby to Charlie. He rocked her in his arms for a few moments, and her cries eventually stopped. The nanny stared in astonishment, as this was the first time he had touched her since she was born.

"Well?" he snapped. "You can leave."

She left the room. He sat in a rocking chair on the other side of the room and held the baby to his chest.

"You're actually not that bad. I can't wait till you can catch a football. Do babies even understand us? You know, because of you, everyone stopped talking to me at school. I don't even have friends anymore. Even the football coach keeps asking me if I knocked up anymore girls." She looked up and him and sucked her thumb. He smiled back.

"You're adorable man. I always thought babies were kinda gross. All they do is poop and stuff." he laughed. She sneezed, and it made him laugh even more. Watching babies sneeze is hilarious.

She placed her head back on his chest, and he could feel her heart beat on his own skin.

"Your mom is named after a flower. I think it's a little weird, but she was really hot, so I didn't say no. Wouldn't it be cool if I named you after a flower too? Like Daisy or something? Okay, wait. Daisy Duck. So no."

He thought about it for a while.

"What about Jasmine? It sounds exotic and pretty, just like you." he touched her nose. She was asleep, so he didn't know if she liked that or not.

"Oh well, I like Jasmine, so that's your name I guess."

He fell asleep in the chair with his baby on his chest, and he finally felt relief.