Why not?

I don’t understand Why not?

Why not?

Why are you unwilling to give it a shot?

Why not try something new?

Why don’t you trust me?

Why do you not believe me?

Why do you just assume I am

entirely full of shit-about everything?

Why assume I do not know,

exactly what I am talking about?

It hurts me deeply,

when you do not trust me


I have never told you

any lies on purpose I mean…

Why not?

Why can’t you?

Why do you refuse to

just hold my hand

and try to




Why not?

a sinking feeling

a sinking feeling by Emily Sturgill 6/24/14

a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
and your leaving for work
as you kiss me goodbye

all I see on your face
is anger and hurt.

a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
your disappointed in me
once more again

somehow, some way I
have let you down again.
and there is no time
for words or apologies.

a sinking feeling,
as the ship goes down,
I can see with one look
your angry with me

a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
I do not even have or own
the magical words

of saying I’m sorry,
because you do not share
whatever wrong I’ve done.
this day is off to a rocky start.

a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
with one angry look
you cracked my heart.

split it halfways
like two sides
of a cracked raw
egg yolk.

a sinking feeling,
as the ship goes down,
as I sit here in a precursor to all my tears,
I know you’d throw me overboard in a second

hoping that this time
I would splash, sink, sputter
and finally

as the ship goes down.

love does not leave

IMAG0906Love does not leave. But sometimes I do. the love itself remains the same. I just have a quirky case of runaway-train-blues. I do not feel like leaving just yet. It wounds him beyond belief whenever I choose to run away. Running away without a compass, a map or even simply a place to stay. His regrets are many what can happen to a mentally ill person-a mentally ill woman-not any woman-but his wife-how can he keep her safe where she runs and flees the people who care the most?

Love does not leave. But sometime I do, the love itself remains the same.

how can i describe ? The feelings of a hurricane jammed into a small 5 x 7 picture frame, frightened to half-death, the weather is messy in here. The moods are wild and frenzied. The person is clearly misunderstood. But how can you understand a lunatic howling at the moon?

How can you understand a tidal wave which is missing its flood?

How can you understand my foreign strange religious views? On New Age, metaphysical, occult and wiccan pagan rituals?

How can an atheist possible relate to the comfort my religion gives to me?

Or how can he understand that each and every spell i have ever done is much akin to prayers?

Should i swallow it all down, tooth and nail, beyond the pale,

that my witchcraft is further proof that i am just another manic-depressive, messy and confounded,

by my own mass confusion-by my own mass solitude?

This is all always used against me,

lit another match and burn me on a stake,

for heavens sake do something quick,

before i wander off aimlessly again…

nowhere to go, no compass, no map, no plan of attack.

love does not leave,

but sometimes i do.


Worlds Collide

Worlds collide

deep inside,

my smashing mind.


There is the world that

I have built of an insane asylum-inside my head.

Then there is the “other”- “Real World”.


these two places do not often,

co-exist very well.

Somedays, I get lost in the translation.


My crazy self, jumps into

the world of reality foolish and blindly.

She peers out for a second or moment-

here nor there….tearing a patch of the fabric

that holds me altogether.


And then worlds collide.

When I am sane-relatively speaking-all

of the sudden I do something

out of whack and crazy.


It’s not an episode-rather a symptom.

I suffer from some strange and

unexpected irrationality.

Or worse, I get fearful and defensive,

and I have no idea why.


I just knew that somewhere,

deep inside

two worlds have collided,

yet again.




Distilled Silence

Distilled Silence;

a metaphor created from lyrics-

of the silent, shade of blue, surreal song.

In the shade, stood the Earth.

It was whole, I am not.

a shiny beach song for a single,

copper-headed penny.

Distilled silence,

into liquid- a crucial matter

of disgusting drugs.

Depression grabs me off balance again.

Now what? and why? and who?

My friend waves the Peace flag again,

she gives me permission,

to attempt a death-defying,

savvy pen miracle,

once again.

Feelin’ a hot mess

Feelin’ like a hot mess,

these words cannot express

the way I feel deep down inside

the ache is my spine,

the pain right below, my navel,

these emotions that go

up and down like a carnival lackey’s hammer.

Feelin’ a hot mess

that’s me…and I am not so

sure how I will keep

it altogether,

like a unraveled sweater,

i fall apart at my seams.

I try to reach out-

to the ones one mean-well once meant-

the most-yet they have abandoned me.

Completely and utterly.

And the ones I do have left?

I just do not want to call… with more bad news.

It will drive them away too.

And right now I just

do not know,

what to do or who to trust?

Feelin’ a hot mess…

trying to hold it together,

but i feel like i’m coming

unhinged, unglued, apart

at the seams.