Some of her wiring had come loose
She had burnt out like toast
left on too high a setting

Now her brain needed a reboot
It had come to this
be plugged into a mainframe

she did not feel a thing
just a small sharp scratch
and the pleasant scent of the oxygen mask

wakes up a little blurry
mouth a little furry
but new connections made

a few weeks on
she can spark up a smile again
an electro convulsive treat

Sometimes I'll sit in a chair
or walk through a room
that you've also sat in
or walked through
just because the idea that
the ghost of your presence
is sharing a space with the reality of mine
sets me free and captivates me
all at the same time.

we're all addicted to secret killers wether it be cigarettes you stole from your mothers purse or alcohol you found it the garage or that boy who swore would never leave you, maybe those anti depressants at the bottom of your backpack or the razor blades you hide between the pages of your books. but baby the cigarettes will burn away the boy will leave even after promising he wouldn't, and sooner or later we all find our way to the bottom of the bottle and my dear the only happiness that will never die away is the kind you give yourself.

Cracking under pressure
Relapsing
Losing touch with reality
losing her
getting caught
losing control
being replaced
not being good enough
disappointing the people I love
not being accepted
rejection
Being forgotten
Growing old
Hurting the people I love
Breaking down
Going back
Being trapped *but I'm already trapped?

losing control of my own body
going crazy
being not good enough
hurting someone else
loneliness
dying in my sleep
that my parents actually hate me
going to hell
not living up to my own expectations
serving the wrong religion
not getting into college
losing parts of myself
becoming numb

My breathing's wrong.
This pattern inside me
isn't my rhythm.
You've got all the control
& I'm programmed to rise & fall
just from a single phrase of yours
and
I wish I could even try
to get this heart to knock on rib doors
build some courage up
to
whisper truths between the
sliver membranes so I can
try & balance out the breathing
and get a grip on reality
cause I'm almost outta that conscious-land
& I don't know
this man
he keeps bringing me to hell & heaven...
then back
with just his text.

(c) 2014

Don't call it a relapse.
Because I'm just getting started.
This next bowl of green goes out to all the brokenhearted.
I've been where you are
staring into the abyss.
Anything to fill the void
Always looking for the scripts.
I take a yellow for the blues
it'll kick in soon.

Feel the pain just fade away
and leave my mind in a haze.
This has become my every day.
I wish you all could feel this way.