Limbs cut through crisp air
I am falling, back first, into the abyss
Arms flail to find ground
But only air exists here
It blows through my heart and
Out through my chest
My spinning heart a weather vane
At the mercy of gravity and earth
Convulsions flare uncontrollably
Panic awakening panic
The danger paints everything in shadows
So even the sun haunts this place
I don't want to feel this
I don't want to lose control
But in falling, that decision isn't mine
I can only accept this state
Trying to control the uncontrollable
Will only cause more harm
I need to love myself enough
To love myself when I'm not ok

to the counsellor and the disciplune master
i am suffering from emotional dysregulation
all it takes is one glance -
one glance and I know
that they will never see it
but I still try and i know:
their lives are too squeaky perfect,
too black and white
for me to explain the shades of grey
to them: having feelings, getting hurt
is "emotional dysregulation"
and I don't need a ******* dictionary
to know they are implying
that this whole problem
was because of my "perspective"
and it does not take much for me
to understand they are implying
that maybe they were not wrong
for pushing me aside like I was an old toy
like hushed whispers in the hallways
are not vicious.
"go back to school. try one more time"
they see my silence, my refusal
as running away. no.
I'm not running away -
there's nothing to mend:
the damage is done.
and if you have lived thirty long years and
you cannot understand that
there are more ways than one to close a chapter
then i wonder who is the one guilty
of a black and white thinking?
I am fighting too
just not with swords or with words
even silence has a place of its own
and its place is here.
and I cannot believe that it takes me to burst into
shameful tears for them to think
that my pain is "real"
it shouldn't take me to feel like
I am about to split into half from the pain
in order for you to finally realise i am really not okay
i have been saying that from the start
and it doesn't need to be a physical act of violence
in order for it to hurt
and i can't believe that you are the teachers that were sent
to reason with me
it makes me want to pack up my ****,
leave and never come back

owls pick clover leaves so that their disorders are detected, remarkable
power of being, peripheral parts of their existence, satiric reality
quotidian and cynical, disorders represent internal struggles, passive
owls' reductive and holistic approaches to heavy squalls ships madly
run into, ships shaken in confusion, captains gone, crew members
thrown into the sea, owls recognise a woman does not have anything but avid
interest in men, her husbands offending each other, a pervasive pattern
of dysregulation making life doubtful than uneasy, a commitment
to passionate detachment dependent on innocent identity
impossible, nothing is possible because owls' holy life is precisely
mapped out, grave consequences of sanctification and glorification, mythic
characters not remembered only because of their relation to dead
figures in Orpheus' old legend, speaking about a Jew sacrificed
at Auschwitz, events revealed with overtones existentially psychic

Acute anxiety, insomnia, hand tremors, and a pre-delirium state.
Feelings of excess glutamate
spurned by GABA dysregulation.
It was not 'the fear', there was no binge.
Rather it was brief, mild ethanol withdrawal
prompted by frequent consumption over the week.

Distinct feelings
of excitotoxicity.

Alpha male ‘fear of loss’ projections
Delusional self-protection fantasies
The externalized world leaving tracked footprints in my wet mental clay
Whatever the mind perceives, so it is
Social persona distortions with intersecting boundaries
Fears of feminine invalidation crystallizing my shadow identities
Cold terrors of feral fraternal chaos sweeping me away in the woods
I feel afraid to live

I want to punish myself with resistance to my own activation
Square shorts minimizing my attention span to zero
My frozen heart in a block of ice melting from the fanned flames
I am angry at myself for my rigidity and self-deprivation
Dysregulation disconnecting me from my present moment
Accepted normality paradigms wearing me like old rusty iron suit

does exposing yourself really mark the dysregulation
thinking about your twenties, like a frenzy and ***** bedrooms
thinking about the little girls sitting on the corners
next to mirrors not yet hung up
all around my gaze is slanted save the looming, glowing portrayal next to my eyes
it's hard to tell if the glow around my head is of an angel or with hell closing in

thinking about gabriel
caught in the bedroom sickness fantasy
trying to convince myself the glow is back
in his arms, taken care of, punishment
my ***** throb at the proximity
how do i convince myself this keeps me level headed
don't disregard his disfunction

GABRIEL
I feel like you are

The village church
Mission,
pursuing the glory of God,
so it works
Is it control or rebirth
Government strings,
controlling the mass,
or community
gospel - centred,
Impression crash,
perhaps impertinent,
and, impudent,
tactless brash,
focus multiplication,
of sheep conditioned,
community lash
During the Plague,
impact on religion
swayed,
many believed,
punishment,
for sinful ways
Few priests left
service maroon,
no maintenance room
Middle ages Christianity
eliminated faiths
Referred to as pagan you,
a mixture
of peaceful conversion,
military conquest to
Dysregulation of Pagan people
Phew!
can't have nature, and people
as one delegation,  
let's call it Christianity,
and re - inject the nation


© 2020  Carol Natasha Diviney