Pardon me while I cry, I need to stand outside. This meeting has put me in a blunder. I feel like I should run and hide. I see nothing but bad decisions but my mouth is clamped shut. All I do is mumble in agreement. I always saw myself as strong and noble but maybe that is just the part that died when I poisoned myself with lithium carbonate.
Bipolar is when you feel depressed and hope it’s just a mood not an episode stretching far and wide into your future.
When your mood changes you are happy that you suffered just a few hours or days and not a relentless episode stretching into the unknown.
Drunk black out
My life is fragmented
I have spoken to you
You made me feel safe
But now you are gone
I am just broken records
Half glasses of wine on the lawn.
Stamping on my chest.
Devils claws sink into my shoulders.
Pushing me down
And sitting in my view.
Whispering ‘You are just another small time muse’
Meaningful gazes ask if I’m fine
Glances back scream ‘I’m fucked.’
I show a small apologetic smile
One that let’s you know I don’t need you.
That it will be fine.
It will be OK.
I am just someone who cries in the street on Thursday.
Wakefulness is like biting lemons,
This zesty energy pumps inside me.
Without a doubt I feel alive,
In the darkness or the light.
I have been struggling to be,
Somebody who is not drowning.
So I suck on lemons
And put coffee before me
So I can fake being somebody.
If our pain is unavoidable,
Let it be a pain of our choosing.
So I guess at 13 pulling a blade against my sick was a choice?
I chose my mental illness like its a option at lunch
Bipolar, anxiety or OCD.
Normality fleeted my deck of cards that very day,
Lined up just jesters and fours
Winners cards crumbled into ash.
From blood smeared on the walls
To vomit filled toilets.
It began so easy and trivial
To vodka downed straight
Dancing in the darkness
I guess I chose pain or did it choose me?
I guess I was unfortunate,
That my parents did not raise me right.
Or the bullies viper tongues,
Venom was deadly in my mind.
When I choose to date women,
And give my virginity away for free.
Did I choose suffering or was that all was offered to me?
When I was given black eyes as love
When I was locked in a secure ward
It was not just for fun.
Did I choose the pain or did it choose me?
I guess if it continues rifling through my successes
That I left an open door for it to walk in.
I guess it saw the weakness in me.
Maybe I will never be free.
Wouldn’t it be nice
To find pennies scattered all around
Or to have conversations with leprechauns
With pots of sparkling gold.
Could it be possible to have a dream come true?
With no price to pay
Or anything to sacrifice
Like true love
Lucky, wouldn’t I be
If all my dreams came true
Without lucky pants or shoes
A story or a superstition
Salt all down my back
Counting magpies with a mild panic attack.