Archive for depression


Posted in Blog, Poetry, writing with tags , , , , , , , , on May 28, 2009 by dustus

Warm rain lingers soft
Upon the fair-lit lily stalk
Feeling giddy and silly
Don’t know what to do with me
All the pressure like the first time
I came to find that I’m losing
In respect given, pride taken

Out of my comfort zone
Treading turbulent water
Long solitary walks
There’s a lake in my dream
Waterfall splash and upward spring
Fringed by forest pine
Mosquito sting
Fire crackling, branches snapping
Inside I’m nervous-laughing
Hidden my true self
From youth all alone
Poems I wrote in exasperation
Dramatic jejune desolation
Until I awoke mid the core of fear
Kind heart of another most sincere
We finally met
A depression-thawed wonderment
Love no longer in my imagination
Joyous social-ineptitude disintegration
Feeling I’ve only begun
To discover and ponder
A true person beside myself
Who thinks my writing stinks
Yet genuinely obliged to offer help
And we fully realize life is brief
Beyond ourselves who knows?
Her opinion about my writing
I’m trying hard not to agree
Honesty, always a relief
People don’t know
You’re amazing to me


To the kind readers of The Dustus Blog, an announcement:
Short story coming tomorrow entitled “Rob, Greta, and Derek”
I promise it’s very different! Hope you come back & check it out!

High School Asylum is Released!

Posted in Blog, education, people, Poetry, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 1, 2009 by dustus

Book One


It gives me great pleasure to announce that my first novel has now been officially released for sale.

In a few short weeks this novel will be made available on & through many other channels of distribution, including  &

To all the visitors of The Dustus Blog, I invite you to check out High School Asylum before anyone else.

Click on the Logo!


Writing Through My Worst Fear

Posted in Blog, Poetry, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 29, 2009 by dustus

I have mixed emotions about fear.  Of course fear at times seems like a fight against mixed emotions.  Often when I feel apprehensive about the future, wondering if I’ll fall on my face, thirty seconds seeming worse than the thought of my own death, that’s precisely the point I hit when my emotions flood.  I’ll try my best to explain…

Future projections of my imagination are fused with remembrances. Almost seemless among the failures and triumphs of my past—it can be a bit overwhelming and sad.  Takes a few moments to regain composure from an anxiety attack; back then recovery could take a few days.  Sometimes the attacks altered the mundane things I do in daily life. I felt like I could not be myself.

It can seem like readjusting to normalcy from a bout with near-death shock, racing thoughts crash and you feel helpless. “Content” to stay at home. I’ve been down that road many times and don’t want to go back to that part of my sleepwalking mental landscape.

Writing certainly helps to put into perspective those former sensations of uncontrolled thought and irrational doom scenarios. It helps to get it all out, prompting catharsis.  As a writer, I think of this part of my life as the ugly side of imagination.

Indeed, I owe a great deal to the art of writing—it helped me overcome the panic attacks, as well as six long months of agoraphobia and depression that I have been battling since I turned thirteen.dustus2 Through writing I’ve been able to take an honest look at who I am and transform my insecurities into words.

Years felt like wilting
Into the riverbed I made
As if dirt covered
Left for dead
Each day passed
I’d hang my head

Just want to be free
Banish dreadful thought
Could not seem to seize
Tender moments
Beauty only left her sighs
Utterly alone
Trouble breathing
Then feelings numb

I write through points of pain and recall former shame, feelings of self-doubt, blame.  The poetry within me will surface, profuse torrent-like tidal waves/internal screams and shouts/carried away/my heart does say/always stay/spirit within me/a sense of loving/ Bitter-sweet/Doom & Bloom/ The times when I’m fearful/Writing does give me/Stern talking to/The more I understand/Getting over you/Fear

You once beat me
Into oblivion
Was hardly even
Living then