What to say

Constantly
I struggle,
what should I say?

Could anyone
understand
I’m feeling this way.

One thought
too far
and they won’t stay,

I’m sorry
I’m sorry
I’m to blame.

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Storm Inside


How do I explain?
I’m not fully sane,
Even I’m not sure
What’s going on in my brain.

I take the pills,
I talk to the shrink,
and still I struggle
To clearly think.

I smile a lot, I laugh, I’m kind,
You’d never guess I’ve lost my mind.

“Not you
You’re happy”
is what they say.
I truly wish it wasn’t this way.

Wicked winds
Since I was born,
Have created
The perfect storm.

Thunder cracks
as the clouds roll in,
Lightning strikes
upon my skin.

The day’s light gone,
Darkness looms,
A never-ending
Lonesome gloom.

Sirens blare,
I run and hide.
My efforts fruitless,
The storm is inside.

005. The ward

The bathroom door shuts
behind me.
I enter the ward’s common area.

A dining room:
Five tables
outside the nursing station’s
door

A group of people,
in normal clothes,
surround the television.

I stick out,
like a sore thumb
in my hospital blues

“Are you Matthew?”

I was caught off gaurd.
It was one of the men on the couch,
I nod.
“I’m Steve,
nice to meet you”

He seems normal,
I think.

Judy,
the older woman
who showed me to the bathroom,
steps out,
from the nursing station.

I hand her my garbage bag,
my clothes
to be washed.

“I’m going to need your scarf”
Reluctantly,
I comply.
“Bed bug prevention policy.”

I pour myself a coffee.
I sit alone at a table
in the back corner of the dining area.

Beyond the group surrounding the tv
near the windows looking upon the snowy streets
A bare christmas tree stood

Boxes of decorations
scattered about.

‘Tis the season.

A friendly smile
From the next table,
Turns my way,
“You can sit here with me,
if youd like.
dont worry,
i wont talk to you.”

I laugh nervously
In response.
I sip my coffee,
Still too hot,
In silence

Steve gets up from the couch,
Swipes a card,
and enters the nursing station,
He is normal.

Dissociation

I’m in the starts of sharing my writing that has, so far, been confined to my personal journal.
I hope you enjoy! Any comments, suggestions, and encouragement graciously appreciated.

Journal of a Mad Scientist

May 9, 2015

It’s very strange,
I don’t know how,
My mind escapes
The here & now.

When emotions get
A certain way,
My brain shuts down
And I float away.

My eyes stare off,
My voice goes flat.
A peculiarly detached
Manaical laugh.

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003. Blanket of bubbles

Nov 28, 2014

A blanket of bubbles,
Glittered with gold,
With the warm sweet swell of marzipan.

I wipe myself down with a washcloth,
Slowly,
Mindfully.

My mind peculiarly calm

I lay back,
Submerging into the water.
Not as hot as I’d like,
But as warm as the taps allowed.

The cold dark tiles upon the unfamiliar walls
Starkly contrast
The familiar warmth of my favourite bubble bath

As the last of the water
Gurgles down the drain
I wipe away
The glittery evidence.

I take my time
Thourougly drying myself
With the strangely short towel.

I pull on the baggy
Hospital-blue
Pajama pants,
I cuff the bottoms.
I button up the matching shirt.

The clothes I wore prior
In a garbage bag
As instructed.

I pause

I remove my cozy, knit, circle scarf.
I wrap it snugly around my neck,
I look in the mirror,
I smile.

What I see in the mirror,
What they see,
Is only an illusion.

“Perceptions are not reality,

But it is through our perceptions we create our own reality.”