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286 · Jul 2020
High on a Substance
Pete Elliot Jul 2020
There I stood,
Or wait was I sitting?
It doesn’t matter details aren’t important.

She said she wanted to be my friend,
Or wait was it that we were no longer lovers?
I don’t remember details aren’t important.

I said I knew what you did,
Or did she tell me?
Wait, I think she told me, but I didn’t care about the details.

I was looking for something more,
Or wait, did we turn into something less?
It didn’t matter it was a small detail.

I looked for God when there was no one else,
Or were the eyes I saw in the clouds just imaginary.
It doesn’t matter, the devil was in the details and I ate too much of his lettuce.
When time passes details get lost but I never forget how I felt.
Pete Elliot Sep 2020
Fury inside of me, violently stroking a pen through false dichotomies of villain and prodigy,
Where class struggles and geography were born to condone these widening,
Of differences that are perceived through a lens like anthropology,
Looking inwards for a piece of psychology,
To make sensible the sense of war you feel the need to throttle me,
Like a bottleneck your choking on your own hypocrisy,
Check your bags at the door before you try to lie to me,
A quiet rage of poetically dividing,
Your point of view and fake news while I exponentially feel like retiring,
My bad attitude and obligatory use of admiring,
Because the algorithm created feels as dated as a psychosis that is now expiring,
Waking up now feeling like saying pick up the mirror because the microscope won’t buy you anything,
Except a nervous apprehension for information from anyone who’s hiring,
A battle of thought provoked a new wave of gospel which won’t bow or take a holiday,
I can’t go back to the hospital or who I was, I’m tired of banging my head on the wall today.
Psychosis is powerful. It comes and goes. I try to make the best with life and change the idea that I am not strong enough to handle challenges with mental illness
183 · Aug 2020
Safe Haven
Pete Elliot Aug 2020
Your tears are my aches,
Your laugh is my best friend,
Your smile is my infatuation,
Your soul is my safe haven
I love her. To the point of delirium and back. It hurts to know I am her best and worst problem
Pete Elliot Jun 2020
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed
The nighttime fear stayed with me,
When I should have only dreamt,
I played the victim again though the feelings are hard to mend,
I’m seeing red in my face again

You were right when I said that you were wrong,
You always carried me, to a place like a different song
You were right to be upset, you were right to feel wronged,
You were right when hope was gone.

You said you could take on the world,
You said my needs were yours to be heard,
You cried in your mourning, you cried out it’s pure,
You cried out he loves me I’m sure.

These are the visions in my head,
Someone holding you late at night when it should be me instead,
I pushed you away, trying to pull you close,
How my demons soon became my ghosts

He held you so sweetly I was sure,
He kissed you like you wanted and always gave you more,
We should have just been friends, we wouldn’t have to worry then,
But now my vision shakes to the core,

We built our house so bittersweet.
A new fresh start right before we leap,
It was scary for you, it was familiar to me,
I’m no stranger to nights with little sleep.

As you walk away I’ll sing this song,
Not to you but for me, to see how I play along,
I wanted to help you through this,
We couldn’t trust what we would say,
Always afraid of the next day.

There again he’s there unlike me,
Supportive with no baggage, that I placed at your feet,
If you need a day. If you need a month.
If you need a lifetime you know I’ll always hum
About a girl I knew. About a girl I miss, about a girl who saw me as viscous.

I don’t want to hurt you anymore,
I don’t want to keep banging my head, straight across the floor,
You need something maybe I don’t have
You need someone who’ll give you a chance.

I’ve been so selfish in my mind.
Always worried people were committed like a crime,
I can’t see the truth, I don’t know if there is a lie,
Except when I once said goodbye,

I can’t fix this problem I have.
The doctors and the medicine didn’t always last,
I’m a hate crime to myself, I may never walk in line
But at least I see myself this time.

My imagination is my worst friend,
The panic of grief, over and over again
I didn’t want to lose you, no I didn’t want to waste your time,
But the burden of guilt is mine

I shouldn’t make you feel this way,
Breaking things and making things are harder if we stay,
I don’t want to try to sway you, I don’t want to confuse your thoughts
Because I know how it is when they get lost

And the vision of death comes again.
Replaying the scenario, my familiar trend,
I can never be safe I’ll never sing a song.
Without sorrow from times that are now  long gone.
Sometimes my imagination is the worst scenario. Sometimes my mind makes the surreal real. Sometimes the only thing that feels real is the grief. And I was wrong about the imaginary transgressor. It was me who held you with no baggage. Until I couldn’t hold it to myself. It was me who was supportive. Until we needed a break so I can see again
Pete Elliot Aug 2020
There was a boy in a well,
He climbed down and didn’t tell;
When he tried getting out he fell,
It grew darker as his thoughts started to dwell,
“It is my own doing that I live in this hell,
But I would trade anything I could sell,
To see, hear and be the person I was, and remember the sound of mental freedom’s bell,”

There was a girl in a box,
Whose thoughts sometimes got lost,
They would speak to her when she would talk,
They followed her when she would walk,
They would shout at her words that mocked,
It reminded her of what it cost,
To remain sealed, like the mechanism of a lock,

The cosmic light shined bright during that one daylight,
The fear of the dark and the silence shook them with fright,
They met on a dismal day that suddenly became a delight,
But the monster of the well came out at night,
The lock became impenetrable, always shut tight,
The well and the box became reasons to hide,
Until one said I’m sorry and the other cried,
“We are different but the same” and they held on to each other with all their might
Mental illness sometimes makes relationships difficult, but there can also be a deep mutual understanding.
141 · Sep 2020
Taking accountability
Pete Elliot Sep 2020
Transgressions rose like a raging tide,
The guilt overflowed from the same cup of pride,
An apology is warranted, as certain as victimization leading to my demise,
The reasons of shame excluded for lunacy is as mystic as the moon who brought the waters in stride,
Accountability from me does not warrant forgiveness, healing or wholeness inside,
Ignorant was I who was not challenged, instead denoted those as hypocrites who I believed were spies,
And so I will take the title of abuser freely admitting I have failed on my side,
A losing battle on my part, as presumptuous and inauspicious as holding the sea confined,
I say sorry to those who have faced the brunt of my ego child-like mind,
Which is possible to be each person I’ve encountered in at least one point in time,
I don’t look for forgiveness, I am here to show I can see the many ways I haven’t been capable through hurting, manipulation, and lies
An apology letter for all who resonates with it.
131 · Jun 2020
Polar By Sea
Pete Elliot Jun 2020
My mood is constantly fluctuating,
They are the mighty seas of my life,
Sometimes I feel like a faithful captain,
Never abandoning my ship,
Other times I feel like a shipwrecked sailor,
My ship overturned by the waves of my emotions,
I feel second to the raging waters,
I know I would fight for my life to stay afloat,
My ship is made of my experiences,
I make small repairs every now and again,
I tear up the mast when I can’t look too far ahead,
I question my own ship and walk on my own plank giving in to the rushing waters,
I feel like I have done wrong,
That my ship is not special,
That I should be no captain of my soul,
But there is no one who knows my boat best,
I know every crack, crease, and leek,
My cabin is safer than the mast,
I go here to write of a fearless sailor they say once inhabited my boat,
A man who knew no fear except to one day find calm waters,
He would climb to the crows peak with a dirk in his mouth to loosen the chains of resentment and self pity,
The hurricane slowed and the captain returned to his cabin,
Now all I know is the fear of the storm,
My soul needs rest,
Company is always appreciated, but I never really swabbed the deck,
I pray you overlook the mess friend,
My ship has nothing to hide.
I’m not a stranger to sleepless nights and racing thoughts. If you or someone you know is struggling there is help out there. And there are people who can sincerely empathize.
122 · Jul 2020
Perspective
Pete Elliot Jul 2020
I looked in the mirror and didn’t like what I saw,
The mirror shattered now holding space for an empty wall,
I hated the tree that would shed leaves in the fall,
When it was cut down there was no shade from the essence that once stood tall,
I cried when I was lonely that I couldn’t be loved,
She didn’t leave my side even when my suspicions shoved,
I aches that it hurt to be so attached,
But when nothing was there it felt like writing poems with math,
When he was there I compared us obsessively,
When he died I could only remember the love he had given me,
I tried to starve to be closer to God,
I cried and whimpered when death loomed like a newspaper over a dog,
When dying was near I chose to live,
When mania is exploding the aftermath and repercussion do life give,
Responsibility of being composed,
Composing responsibilities to feel better about getting old,
Bitter and sweet on the same tongue I taste,
Biting until bleeding making my senses a waste,
The decisions of the heart and the mind come from the same place,
To be and to bleed are bound by a common space,
The wall is empty,
The tree is gone,
His memories are lonely,
She deserved to move on,
Life and death are a balance on a curve,
Responsibility and composure,
With contentment I have heard,
Will forever foster and breed closure,
To live is to learn.
Sometimes it’s all about perspective.
112 · Jul 2020
Today...
Pete Elliot Jul 2020
Today I thought of a wish,
If I could place it on a kiss,
I’d go to you and touch your lips,
To make your heart’s desire and all of this,
Come true to life so you could live in bliss,
And you’d never wonder what you missed.
I wish I could wish wished with kisses
Pete Elliot Jun 2020
Lay with me by the river,
Come walk me home in the snow,
My body starts to quiver,
My love for you grows,

Come take a walk by the fountain, the one you wore your pretty dress,
Inhale the smell of ember,
Light us both a cigarette,

Can we take a walk in the distance,
I see the horse and I’m fine,
You like to tell me stories,
It helps me to unwind.

Tell me where did you go to school,
Seems to me it’s a mix of lines,
Is it better to be sorry,
Or are apologies a waste of time.

Cause when it rains and your not here,
I just want to disappear,
I pray to god that I’m insane,
So that maybe one day I can stay,

Take me down to the garden,
The one with pretty trees,
Hold my hand towards the building,
Let’s stay and sip some tea,

My mind is voiceless around you,
My spirit burns like red,
And when the day is over,
I’ll replay it in my head.

One day I’ll  see you by your side,
Or in a distant place and time
I’ll hide to ask for one more try
I’ll hide and ask you if your just fine

I’ll ask about the fountain the one in the street,
I’ll ask about the river,
It may snow again for me.

Maybe then I’d quiver.
Beneath what I have wrought,
I’ll dream of you and shiver,
What is it that I had thought
The internal struggle of loving but not knowing the future
106 · Jun 2020
Clarity in Desert Mania
Pete Elliot Jun 2020
I am surrounded by desert sand,
The blistering heat made me giddy and delirious,
I gave into the sun’s rays feeling invincible and invulnerable against my leather skin,
I looked at the sand as an object to stand upon,
I kicked it and manipulated the dunes much like the raging wind,
I was the raging wind,
Silent and destructive,
I was a raging god not interfering with the matter of which I stood upon,
Only to kick up dust during my fiery dances,
The night came and a rush of warm dread filled the sensations of my sentient skin,
It realized the moon has its own dance and the night has a different sounding breeze,
I now looked at the sand and fell to my knees,
I looked to bury myself to feel the warmth I had felt seemingly moments ago,
The weight of the sand became unbearable,
It seeped into my pores and my body felt as broken as each individual piece of my foundation,
Both under my feet and the core of me,
As I sunk into my new dismay I saw a tigress,
My eyes played tricks on me for the summer sun had a way of changing my view,
For the first time since the moon came up I stood and began approaching,
It started to walk away and I started to follow,
It was comfort,
It was serene,
It was ethereal,
I stumbled for my legs were shaky and weak,
I didn’t know I’d walk so long,
Where were you going?
And why couldn’t I stop following?
I missed you my whole life,
And I just met you today.
Sometimes life has a way of calming you down in the most peculiar ways
100 · Jul 2020
Losing Family pt. 1
Pete Elliot Jul 2020
Big boys don’t cry, big boys are brave,
I wrestled my pride, I choked at your grave,
You were sentient, a being once known,
Now a cadaver with no mention, the reason for why you hold,
I grappled with complexities of destinies and fate grown cold,
Your lifeless limp organs made no sense to me, hence to forever be reminded by dates of old,
I grew up and starved for the attention of myself again,
When fixated on the larva of lessons books on shelves couldn’t tend,
I sought clarity within, only an ounce of scarcity in sanity,
But it became aware to me an ounce can lead to merrily seek vanity,
I stood close enough to say goodbye while the cat moved in the room with its wandering eyes,
I pulled her and I away should lies about how trapped my mood would be could be seen as laundering sympathy from demise,
I was you’re friend I thought, you knew me so well,
You’re now a poem I send that never reaches the end like a distant longing farewell,
This is the note I wrote when I was 19 years old,
With a 10 year perspective of another teen boy I wish I could have told,
I love you I’m here, you are never alone.
Loss, grief and trauma are never easy to deal with but there is hope in acceptance.
99 · Jun 2020
Lanterns and Butterflies
Pete Elliot Jun 2020
She came when no one else dared to,
She saw the human that was in my head,
She conquered the anguish with a simple act of kindness,
I want to lay on your couch and cry to you about the love I’ve lost,
I want to lay in your bed and tell you my secrets I’ve never said,
I swear the pit of my stomach held butterflies with lanterns on their wings,
My head is still mischievous to cheat me from what actually feels natural,
No worries, no thoughts, just a vacant expression and the the lanterns swimming in the fluid of my mind,
I use words daily to request needs unmet,
Or sometimes to make friends who I keep at a distance,
But if I felt a push it would pull me back,
She is the planet and I am the moon forever watching in the night,
Sending notes like waves that crash every time our lips collide,
I longingly ache, not for an idea, but the actual person I see, hear, smell, touch, taste before me,
I have never been in such a tumultuous time with my anxiety,
And there as never been one like her that can set it off and on like a light switch I am,
I want to be her lantern.
I want to be her butterfly.
I want to grow and learn from her how a person should carry themselves,
I’m metamorphosing my beliefs of trust and understanding,
And she is the catalyst that spurns the desire for more,
More for myself,
More of what we share,
More of the same,
And less of the insane.
Sometimes I meet someone who reignites fires of the heart that I thought were long gone. These relationships are the hardest because I feel the most.
93 · Jun 2020
Pills are a Modern Trend
Pete Elliot Jun 2020
She said that she’d be back,
I was waiting on a heart attack,
I said my minds not here,
She said it’s the same idea

Not sure where to go,
When nowhere feels like home,
The priest had no replies,
The teacher looked for my disguise,

I went down on my hands and knees,
But no air came out when I tried to scream

Fierce competition in a peculiar haze,
Looking for truth in unconventional ways,
Giving in to my disease,
Succumbing to the mental bleed,

These pills are a fashion trend,
Get me sick then do it again,
I’ll wear it like designer clothes,
Hoping for the spotlight on the runway road,

I went down on my hands and knees,
Only air came out as I tried to plead

Fat stacks of pills on ice,
Pool parties and anti-psychs
Memories flushed and washed in dirt,
Didn’t they tell me this could hurt.

Wishing for the best this time,
I weigh my hope and snort line by line,
A wonder I’m not so much amused,
By life’s constant beating and abuse

I went down on my hands and knees,
Only air came out as I tried to leave.
Headache and  mental health

— The End —