I rise and I fall,
My mind is a racetrack.
I want it all and I want it back,
I’ve been here before: flashbacks, retreat and starting over.
Not as a rule, just survival.
My mind takes off again.
And there is no plug, no light switch.
There is no way I want this as my routine again.
I gave up so much the last time I got out of the ward.
Mind peeling away the rinds and underneath I find that I am responsible for the output, and what goes in, and nothing more.
Feed me oxygen one more time and when I wake I will feel like hell.
You can’t promise to take this away and despite my best efforts, the feeling remains- and I am electric.
I can still taste that on my palate, and vanguard my heart.
Take me along, relax and let the nausea gut you from the inside- it’s only temporary.
I forgave the former me to rediscover the new me
and they look the same, but damn does the feeling stretch into another year, another day…count the hours to the end.
Forgive me for all my terror-
what it looks like to the outside world and I feel your pulse removing me from myself.
Fitfully, break this fit in tremors and levies. I’m alive again
but there’s no guarantees…
Corrupt this place, the ceiling burns phosphoric and you glare into the spaces that dampen the air.
“I’ll be back another time, maybe I can view the hash marks in pastel”
We can fantasize that we’ll never return to the chaos, so inviting to pick up where we left off.
You know this changes everything.
I escape my own reality and the wind outside brushes the sun off my cheeks- the powder of my forehead no longer a torrent of reflecting skies…. and rampant mistakes.
Everyone knows me here, and that can’t be so bad, right??
We deserved so much more.
I saw them take you on the elevator to the third floor, where people communicate in mimes and fixed glances, trolling the corners and cleaving the walls. Fearful that you’ll be spit out into the world, the depth of all your misfortune taking hold of that last piece of serenity.