Truth About The Mentally Ill

Oct 2015

Jack R Fehlmann

I write and dream up new ways
To say and cry out old things
Utilizing the strings that can be tugged
That attach to inner most hopes
Hopes that feed dreams and needs
All of the things that can hurt
As they have done and I endure alone
I use these words that hold meaning
To tell the world how it is for me
To share with others that may comprehend
I write to post and pretend they reach you
But if they ever do is it just words
Or is the emotional message conveyed
I write to pretend that someone is listening.
I write to acknowledge the truth of loves cost
And to exercise my restless wants and longings
These are my chosen words
My means at giving feeling to the way one reads them.
My message to someone I know never sees or reads
The way it is to see or feel
Or love and want what cannot be
I write because I need to,
Feel, to be, to eat, breathe.
I write because.

Mar 2015

Jack R Fehlmann

My Conception miscommunicated

his is my conception flawed
most Patina proned
the imperfects,
                                     they
                     fragment
       become
at its surface
       wanting
life's reasons
                                     cracks
                   chaffe
of this
        creation and eternal question
the layers meaningless therein
the death of sunlight
setting perfected
another day
to feed tomorrows imagination
much
         displayed in each rotten liars face
covered over some past
smothering and building above
and fragrant dreams
should fuel brashness misdirected
purpose that
             for all it is
be it found to be lacking
                 it bears the knowledge gap
famed no known muse
or compostion worthy
notedly proportional whites and
other shades, emotionless
calming,
the sediment settles
to touch the muddy surface
consideringly well intended
another day,
         another to shine
less than
                        perfect
is
        and those
that demand
a concept placed uncertain
determined and truthfully in the rught
hopefully atleast as to face
forced gazes
                    accusatiions
                              a reflection
my face
              that
looks back
            upon one

                               uwanted.

blah.. don't now what the hell my thoughts had in mnd here,.. oh well...

Mar 2015

Jack R Fehlmann

Again,.. and Again,.. and Again,.. and Again,.. Unexplained.

Frequent?
                         Yes.
      The times        I                am
                      alone.
Writing,
        my fleeting feelings.
My pugnant  emotions.

Thinking     of     new      ways,...
          Dreaming     up      old         things...
If,....        Only,......
This pen could Scream!..
                      Reasons        I           Am....

                             ME?

As      I       am,...
         caught up,
                       drawn in,
again     and     again,...
                           and        again,...
                                                         and?..
                         Again.

Me.                        Unexplained.

how to write about myself, at moments of torment and emotional reasons to write it down, or post it to the world, or,
to myself,... curious things.

— The End —