Thoughts become embedded into my brain like thorns. They bury their sharp edges deep into the vulnerable seams of my subconscious, silently smirking at their inability to be removed. And they remain there, dormant in wait... Until my mind again begins to stir.
Author: Ash Ochoa Poetry
You'll figure it out.
Dublin
Haven
The words we whisper become loud behind closed doors. The walls ignorant to the heat behind our tongues... and the gasps between our breaths.
Between the Mortar
At Rest
Within my skull lies a graveyard of those I've entombed. Locked away in the darkness, they'll never be exhumed. For I am the one now resting in peace. Far less complacent and bearing my teeth.
“Happiness”
I don’t know how to exist as “happy”.
I’m realizing that I’m not really having any bad days anymore. Sure I still have bad moments, but the full days of overwhelming sadness and anger have seemingly dissipated. I know this is a good thing because no one should be internally suffering. However, I almost feel like I don’t know how to function without having to fight myself.
Don’t get me wrong though… I like the feeling of mental stability, but I still find myself subconsciously searching for anything to be upset about and I’m not sure why. It’s like my fight-or-flight mode is now panicking with newfound boredom and trying to find anything to stir itself up. Which is fucked I know.
It’s kind of funny though…
I’ve been striving years for this “happiness”. All the meds, therapies, blah blah blah… and now I get here and I’m not sure how to handle it. Now it’s the irony of “how do I manage to survive without exhausting amounts of depression and anxiety?” My head is something else…
Well… here’s to “happiness”. 😏🖤 Cheers.
-Hal
Graffiti Park 2
Carrots
You use words as carrots to dangle in front of my face, But my memory recalls that they hide a bitter taste. All your tricks and temptations fly as red flags in my mind, So I will not entertain a relationship that's been fucked so many times.
Sleet
George Road (B&W)
AO Poetry 
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