Collective breath catches in the stalls,
slumber fails to take its place in time.
A fall from place to chaos
leaves all the world wanting for a reason;
for direction in the midst of this waning
of the reigning control of the conductor.
Such a careful composition,
to hold a position to be one of them.
And yet, mere moments gather a chorus;
a cacophony of freedom
of being
to crack away the chaining,
the tiniest twinkle of the cage door a jar -
such liberty.
And the fight waits in the wings.
But oh this fluid reality,
a magnificent rainbow,
a glistening roaring waterfall
a melody sung sweet of its own accord.
The conductor listens
and breath catches in the stalls.

The crack across the glass screen calling time
Chimes out the screeching to a halt.
A full stop.
The end
of another
fallen
friend.
Sweet suicide?
I call it the theft, that left my heart bereft
My life without the shape and texture of a love
That only one could give.
And a pain that can never be soothed
And a wound that can never be healed
And a reality that was never more clear than in these times
In the lingering of this tongue on trite futile lines
Because these acts that took those lives from mine
are the smorgasbord from which I will commit my crime.
And the days will be numerous between this day and then
But the measure of life, is when I say when.

You ask me to enter to the tilt of your head towards the computer screen
and see, in two words my definition -
bipolar disorder.

You do not look at me, just talk at me
medication? last relapse? severity of episodes?
You count failings, the moments in which I have lost my mind
and you reproach me for them.
You, as you two-finger-type a cold clinical echo of me,
I, on command, recite the past transgressions of my sanity
and you have me – three inches tall on my knees,
in a disease that thrice almost cost me my life
and in your Jobsworth view you tell me I will get ill,
as if this weren't a fact I fight and fear daily.
You with your tunic, blue, cold as your indifference,
announce this, as if calling time -
self-important, unfeeling, with one eye on your watch.

And I smile at you apologetically,
honestly offering up my mindfulness, yoga, medication compliance,
self awareness, begrudged reliance on those I love to wave the red flag
if the waters I get into are too deep.
You are curt with your nod - as if all this is folly between now and the inevitable.
My recovery, my striding, my passion and profession -
All folly.
You are doing the last offices on quick time
because your time is precious and short
and not to be wasted on crazy dreamers with barely a shot in hell

But even with every mental regression, psychotic expression
manic obsession and abyss of depression -
still, still, the world needs more of mes and much less of yous.
So make your disclaimer and write your reports
I'll chant, share the truth in the streets and courts

She thought that no one would come.
Everyone's someone was there
laden with sweet kisses so craved.
She felt his gaze on her back,
gentle warm strokes like the sun.
She had seen him in the night,
longing's whisper brought to life
an image her heart had saved.
She heard him call out her name
felt her lungs draw fresh breath
and her tears kiss her pale cheeks.

He thought he'd never get there.
His body trembles and aches
underneath the mask he weaves.
He draws her into his chest
kissing the top of her head
breathing in golden blessings.
Every pretense leaves him then.
He feels her spirit in his bones.
He holds her tighter, closer,
feeling familiar pain pangs,
as fears' tears stream down his face.

They thought more of each other
choosing not to dwell on self
but to give rather than to receive.
Fingers tracing round faces.
Eyes locked dancing together.
Hospital stench, ****** sheets
fade into wedding vow fabric
made clean by a lifetime's love.
Wander, wander, wandering
and though neither knows to where
shared is a love that knows all.

And life came in, crowned in blood, kissed and messed,
announcing itself with a cry.  
A girl-child, missing piece, fitted to my breast
her weight absorbed with my heart's sigh
She was fear personified, so heavenly blessed,
she made my terrified simpers her lullaby.

I felt my heart's core swell to absorb her scent,
and my eyes overflowed with love's cascading cry.
She cast light into my darkened chaotic hurt -
sparked a desire to wake, to live, to try,
clasping her whole fist around my ring finger,
holding me still; the whole world passing by.

And in her absence she left her shadow nestled in my chest.
And in my absence I hid my kisses in her sigh.
She grew with eyes of blue and a sympathetic smile -
all faerie dust on the wing of a butterfly,
an almost echo of a girl I once knew.
Except she didn't know that kind of cry,
wouldn't know anything less than rainbows,
than Christmas mornings and endless blue skies.

We tripped, clicked heels through the passing years,
from little girl to little woman in the blink of an eye,
till we were both wearing her shoes instead of mine.
And like Alice, she snapped from low to high
she grew - time sculpting curvy definitions
of who I hope and fear she will be.

She is golden curls and girlish giggles
ever wondering the where or the why
ever seeking to help, to heal, to try
to pour her heart into an undeserving world.
She has legs she claims to stand her ground
to be, to free, to hold her own.

And though like me, she is not me,
since she is so much braver than I.
Her finger is wrapped around her innocence
holding strong to consent or deny.
This life will make her cry her tears
and this world will realise her fears
but she will ever have the wings to fly
and I will ever ready to sing her our lullaby.

Your beckoning finger like curling ribbon
Its pained sharp edge beneath the shining
binding me to a catch-22 with gnarly roots;
To paternal blue pierce and maternal chin –
eyes peeping over the creeping cords
pinning me down to the tow-line
where I fit and flinch to be free.
To be me.

Her laugh broke the window pane -
shards of glass pouring like rain,
the sound of shattering safety made her blood run cold
as she clung to disintegrating silence.

Grains of silent-self
pricking the backs of her eyes until tears streamed down her cheeks
wiping fiction from flesh, eyes turned to the floor
so you won't see the sadness where the sparkle should be.
Could be.
Would be.
Maybe.

She feels the barbed wire noose around her tongue loosen,
unfurling its razor sharp grip on her throat
to the melody of the sweet small voice singing soothing songs
seducing her to speak.

Speak.
The words fall clumsily from her lips like ***** clattering plates
splattering waste on wall and doors
leaving a mess that cannot be swept
nor hidden under the carpet or clothes.
"Please. Please.".

She feels eyes burning into naked-self
declaring the truth as if it had the strength to stand,
to bear the weight of shame from times that should remain untold,
but she told.
"Look away. Please. Don’t look at me,
I need you not to look at me, please please please".

She squirms beneath the squirming,
the crawling cascade of bugs under her skin,
in her-self, ***** girl -
ankles twisting, fingers bending, hands trembling,
heart beating, breath quickening, mouth begging
"please please don’t look at me".

The kiss to be seen, breaks like a scream
on the back of a lifetime playing dead,
choking back the words left unsaid,
hiding scars of the wounds that once bled.  

Wounds that call from beneath layers of scar tissue,
a symphony of whispering simpering bacteria
recalling the filthy mire imploding from the pyre;
seal after seal broken leaving her less beauty, more beast.  
Her pleas broke the threshold,
falling forward, hands and knees grinding into twigs and leaves,
his grip so thick on her hair
that he heaves out a scream from the depths of her bowels,
ripping through tension and fear
to gift a mark, a shame, a name that won’t disappear –
“Don’t look at me”.  

They call it ******
as if you could name a pain that seared so deep it
drew a blood that would take a week to heal
and a ***** that would never stop rising.  

Her arms buckled under the weight of shame,
of blame, of every screaming name he seethed into her sullied flesh,
with every wavering breath she breathed – “please don’t look at me”.  

His hands grip beneath her hips
nails biting into aching, seeping flesh, filling her pores with
more, more, more.  

Baths - a thing of the past,
water hot, rusted and greying with the rot that lies on her,
with the putrid knot that lies in her.  
“I’m so ashamed.”

Her exhaustion broke her human-ness –
body depleted from repeated invasion that she couldn’t stop,
that he wouldn’t stop -
as forced kisses stole breath,
focus lost and a nip to his tongue would cost a choke-hold to blur the world,
spit on her face hurled with the venom of an injured python.  

Cold, hard, scraping against skin trying to get in –
“Please.” –
bugs crawling, cascading, invading,
fighting my womb, biting my flesh raw, boring into my blood
turning life force to mud and self separated from beautiful source.  

I felt his thrill at my hip.
“Please don’t ...
Is it masochism to share the most humiliating, hurt or is it healthy?”
*
Her mouth broke -
alive with sensations and nerves that serve
to taste to feel, to flex a tongue to sing to speak to eat.  
He drew her to her knees,
with greater and greater ease
to penetrate perception with ******* till her jaw ached and strained,
drained, choking back the spoils of man,
feeling panic as her stomach recoils vomiting shame.