Category: mental-health

Living With The Enemy

Thought I’d divorced myself from
indifference, recovered from abject
betrayal, but; here I am, co-habiting
with deceit again, occupying uneven
ground, reduced to questioning
motives and reactions.

I’ve been down this road before,
dragged through the shame of
behind my back whispers – need
to confront the perpetrator,
and any co-conspirators, stop
the home-wrecker before she
strikes again, convince them all

that this is not self-perpetuated,
but a sham, and a crime, and
that my heart is breaking here,
and damn it; I deserve better, but
as I said, I am living with the enemy
residing in this single story, one-body
hell, and I’m not sure if I can take any
more self-destructive examinations –
pretty sure one of us is about to
implode, and then what?

Face It

Tie myself to instability,
conditioned to believe
that sensibility fluctuating
with insanity is acceptable.

Insert responsibility
to compensate for
immaturity, am idle
unemployable, would

pack up and move
my ass out of this
stagnation, except
anger is brewing

as turmoil intensifies
and how far can one
really go to escape
such legacies, knowing

I will only return
to the same, better
to stay and face
the devil himself.

(Image: www.viral.us)

When Fantasy Usurps Reality

Vacationing, she says, is vital –
wants her children to experience
game-packed adventure, excess
non-stop fun – anything to evade

this place, this longing, this subterfuge

Dreams of the spotlight of celebrity,
wealth, she thinks, would be freeing,
they’d buy location, nest in opulence,
court sanity, breakthrough the pain

this place, this longing, this subterfuge

Fame, temporary as the aurora borealis,
blinds her – cannot bear the inclusiveness
of normalcy, offspring bursting their halos,
unknowns tied to origin – escape is hope

this place, this longing, this subterfuge

She is tired of small talk, of exaggerated
tales of children’s exploits readily falling
off mothers’ tongues, women whose
vibrancy depends on husbands’ return

this place, this longing, this subterfuge

Considers herself a non-resident,
a temporary guest, consumed,
questioning – views the contest
as overly manipulated, is lost in

this place, this longing, this subterfuge.

(Image: findingjackie.com)

Fear Like a Tarantula

Fear, like a tarantula,
descends on me, lands
on my sense of responsibility
I am unhinged, panicked

think only of casting it off
repulsed by its ugliness
its unbearable horror
its unnatural weight

and then I remember
that terror can be illusory
and tarantulas are fragile too
and I control my impulse

recognize that it is threat
that activates attack,
relax into the situation and
let the intrusion crawl away.

Sleeping Alone

Sleeping alone –
so intrusive –
a child born of
so many intentions
awash in a trail
of barricades

I cope, cook up
breezes, strike
wet ground,
stuff myself
to satiate
the onslaught

ground rapidly
shifting –
Earth Mother
exerting presence –
too stubborn,
I turn away

Look for
God, but my
cup keeps moving –
I am unreachable,
charmed by
a broken tale

aimless,
oppositional,
overwhelmed –
cry out but
absence holds
no listeners

need adhesive
to fix this urgency –
a peerless torrent –
if only I could simplify
these wounds
find a stopgap

emotion
bubbles up
overflows
manifests
external turmoil
replaying sorrow

sleep offers
no repair
alone
tormented
by the issue
at hand.

(Image: blogs.voanews.com)

Flawed

Why do I try to please
those whose motivation
is only self-serving, material
gain more important than
intrinsic rewards?

How is that I’ve tied
myself to the downtrodden,
dependent upon the nay-sayers –
those lacking imagination
incapable of celebration

settling for the mundane,
as if choices are limited?
I want to embrace each day,
dignify each moment,
regale the glory

life is miracles
and mystery, passages
and opportunity; and I yearn
to break through the walls
of limitation and rejoice

yet I am subjected
to the whims of others,
passion overridden by
disappointment, convinced
I am never enough.

(Image from pinterest)

 

 

Preposterous Business of Balance

I have tried to be pragmatic,
to adopt a religious perspective,
even found potential in support,
driven myself to make peace
be a model for my family,
a yet, no amount of contriving
can help me get over
the incest thing.

Dirty secrets
define our family
support ugly cliques
fearful of helpful outsiders
questioning probability
of untainted providers
dubious of alliances –
a sense of humour,
our only strategy –
we united psychologically
divorced ourselves from evils
projected into outer circles
confined to chaos

If I married my paranoia
to a more thoughtful version
of self, would that create
a calming union?
could it be that we are born
with checks and balances,
and is it even legit
to presuppose that balance
is achievable, and what about
partners – don’t they bring
their own amount of excitable
energy to the mix, and
how then is equilibrium
supported?

(Image: smashinghub.com)

Heartquake

mind regresses
in the aftershock –
tremors of misspent
devotion reverberate
suffocating debris

teenage hearts
caught in the quake –
a marital schism –
plucked unripe
sweetness battered

I, colourless
abandoned, like
a runner-up in
a beauty pageant
forgotten, flailed

failed as a mother
withdrawn, rattled
psyche exploding
survival a slow crawl
challenges weighty

aligned my burden
with that of another
six adolescents, and
a bi-polar man looking
for female direction

craved the laughter
of children, the sanity
of structures unbroken
dust of the aftermath
clouding sensibility

anarchy rejoices
at lack of clarity
loss of control, dreams
of bliss have no home
when depression rules

retrace steps –
ponder the road
that led to destruction
search for light before
darkness took possession

found a trail of
foundations lacking
fortitude, wrought
with cracks, underlying
angst threatening

the earthquake, I see
as inevitability –
my landscape strewn
with fault lines
corrupt under stress

drama follows the weak
an internal compression
and shifting, uncontainable
wildness – destined to
destroy – breakthrough

(Image: dictionary.reference.com)

 

 

Losing Language

hardwood…
it rolls off my tongue
stops in mid-air, mind halting
Is that a real word?
I stretch for familiarity,
find none – I apologize
quizzical expressions
indicate my mistake –
such a funny word,
I fumble for explanation
humiliation crowding

How do you spell resile?
my English teacher brain
searches, comes up empty
Do you mean reconcile?
No.  So I google it
discover its validity
spell it out –
can’t say I ever knew the word

thicket, I type
and then back space –
need a term to describe
prickly shrubbery, off
the beaten path, but
it eludes me, the letters
line up but fail to evoke
recognition. why

is my mind turning,
blank spaces replacing
stored knowledge, as if
corruption has overtaken
memory’s files – thoughts
sputter, drop beginnings
and endings of words –
dragging me through muddy
fog, shutting me down…

(Note:  for those that don’t know me,
I am challenged by ME/CFS, a disease
that affects cognitive functioning. 
Writing is a way for me to battle
the deterioration – this poem
illustrates the frustration.

Image: pixelmuttz.blogspot.com)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Nightmare in Poetic Form

(Note:  Inspiration for my poetry is derived from the Dreamtime.  Occasionally, a nightmare will evoke the creation of a short story.  A recent nightmare continues to haunt me, so I have attempted both forms of literature to garner new meaning.  The poem follows and the prose version can be seen here.  Which form offers more insights I wonder?  objectivity in the form of comments appreciated.

Nightmare:  A Poem

Melancholy hovers, haunts,
fed by isolation, taunts
threads of sanity.

Darkness, incomplete,
reveals movement –
trickery of light?

Fear’s grip renders
motionless its victim
serenity shattered

Logic has no tolerance
for the undefined,
ghosts off-limits

Is disease the culprit,
inflammation upsetting
equilibrium, a mind aflame?

The veil between worlds
is flimsy, unhinged, shifts
awareness now peaked

I know you are there!
Show yourself!
Stillness.

Madness threatening,
pleas gather insistence
Come forward – be known!

These are merely games
one reality pit against
another, neither winning

A feminine figure emerges –
her presence emitting an aura
of alarm, indicates a window

Two figures, cloaked in black
towering shadows stalking
live prey, the scent of vulnerability

The ego withdraws, seeks
cover, cannot stop the onslaught
of monsters emerging from walls

Delusion, one last prayer for sanity
but the floorboards recede, reveal
skeletons, there is no escape