i’m finding just the spot, where all chaos ceases to live.

slowly disappearing, can you grab my hand with yours?

sinking’s not my thing, i just want it to stop.

donna marie






can’t breathe

too heavy, too low, it’s painful, can’t breathe-

can’t see, so dark, snakes crawling on me-

wrap around me, suck it out, till no life is left-

for then , i think, i can finally be at rest.

donna marie



someone gather me up, every single part

drop me where it’s quiet; where sadness flees my heart

is that place unknown? i’m sure it is to me

cause every way to heal is unavailable and not free

how long do you flail before someone sees you dying?

twenty-five years not long enough? i’m not lying.

i don’t have the energy to fight this fight again.

lay me down in peace, so i can rest ….. amen.

donna marie

our brain is an organ….really

you know, i’m tired…….. tired of having to explain to people why i am not “better” yet.   “it was so long ago, why aren’t you over it?”    i wonder how many times i have fielded that question.  ignorant people should shut up.  should i repeat that?? it wouldn’t help–as long as people are breathing; there will be stupid people. it’s kinda like saying to someone who is battling cancer, “why aren’t you healed yet?” HELLO!!!  depression, bipolar, PTSD, obsessive/compulsive disorder are actual, REAL health problems.  you see, the brain is genuinely a part of our body. (not sure if you new that or not) it’s what you call an organ. (i know the sarcasm is thick)  just as any other organ in our body can become sick–our brain can too. so the next time you ask someone why they can’t stop being “depressed”– shut up!








































who i am is not who you see

dangling from lightning 

footloose and fancy free


a moment in time

i danced among the daisies

where thoughts were sublime


that time is past

galloped thru the wind

flew away at last


charred meat is what i eat

choking down every bite

when will it be sweet

donna marie



will i ever heal?

i find it difficult to live. why is it so hard? what i am referring to is the darkness that plagues my mind. i became acquainted with this plague from a very early age. for as long as i can remember, i have worried about everything. i am so frustrated because i have spent years— many, many years working towards what i thought was healing. i don’t know if i am any closer to it now than i was back then. it seems for every thing i gain ground on, i fall back five steps. each compulsion i stop, i replace it with a different one. i am frustrated. 

donna marie

i wonder

sometimes i wish there was a place in the middle that i could slip into.

where nothing racks my mind.

a place i can be whole.

i am not fat there.

i am not terrified of dying there.

sometimes i want to be numb.

to protect me from the pain.

sometimes when i look at others,

i wonder what they would think if they knew what was in my head.

i wonder if i will ever be whole again. 

i wonder

donna marie