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I don't know how
To get her home,
Or if she has one...
Does 𝘴𝘩𝘦 even know?

If I reached out my hand,
Would she even pull?

She's been making herself larger.
I can feel her reappearance.
She gets brighter, I get darker.
Interfering with my impulse,
And it happened again...

I forgot how I got here,
Don't where I began.

▪︎ mica light ▪︎
Hiding. She's
Trying. I keep her

Sleeping. She's
Weeping. She screams out her

Falling. She's
Calling. There's pain in her

Dormant. She's
Latent. She feels

Shifting. She's
Drifting. But I keep her

Uneasy. She's
Queasy. Yet I

Refracted. She's
Lasted. She cant be

Bleeding. She's
Seeking. To be

Unwitting. I'm
Splitting. I say my

Heating. It's
Fleeting. My old peace of

Conquered. I'm
Anchored. I'm treading

Drowning. Heart
Pounding. My sight going

Vehement. Not
Present. I am losing my

Engaging. I'm
Raging. She's loud from

Neurotic. I'm
seasick. From pain left

Messy. We're
Heavy. There's blood on our

Damage. I
Manage. This fall from up

Numbness. Crave
Oneness. This banal state,

Transgressing. Keep
shedding. And I'll find her

Uplifting. Deep
Thinking. I tame what is

           Releasing and healing
                     My own inner-child.

☼ Mica Light
Sometimes she comes gently. Sometimes she comes with force.

Vehement: marked by extreme intensity of emotions or convictions; inclined to react violently; fervid
Banal: obvious and dull; repeated too often; overfamiliar through overuse
Splitting: a commonly used defense mechanism for people with BPD that is done subconsciously in an attempt to protect against intense negative feelings such as loneliness, abandonment and isolation; sees in 'black and white'; no 'grey area'
In the morning
The sky
Is so beautiful.
The wind
sways the trees
And urges me
to dance.
The sun's rays
Shine with clarity
And the birds' songs
Invite the light.

I am at peace.

So.. I can be.




Do you hear it?
There's a whispering...
Don't listen.
It's a trap.
There's no way.
There's no chance.

There it is again,
That fear.
The storm -
Here it comes.
Buckle down.
Id better hide.
Quick, try.
Before it sweeps
Me up too high...

But it's got my mind.
It's here.
Strong and loud,
This time.
And not slowly, but
Instantly, It

I am thrown in.
I am lost within
A black space
With no boundary.
I can't find the edge.
And I've forgotten,
To function.

I scream.
I collapse.
I cry.
I destroy.
I despise
Every bit
of myself.
And, still
I can't find
The way out of here.

The storm -
It thrusts
And sways.
And circulates.
Until it
Can no longer
Keep up
With demands.

The perpetual motion
Slows down,
And the winds
Begin to calm.
But the black
Smokey fog
Doesn't leave...

The dust
begins to settle
On top packages
Of self doubt,
And worthlessness.

Then without warning
Gravity pulls me
Into my body.
And in silence,
I am left,
Sifting through
What remains of me...
Shattered sorrow
Tired eyes, and
No light that I can see.


I am so angry
The sky
Was so beautiful today.
And so was I.
But I wasn't bigger
Than the storm.

Not this time.

• Mica Light •
This poem reflects how my morning can go into a complete hell so quickly, I dont know how I even got there.
AJ Sep 2021
i pick at my skin it a desperate attempt to pull the anxiety out.
if it could ooze out every pore and tear,
maybe i wouldn’t be shaking,
fueled with the rage and fear panic attacks hold.

i pick at my body to rip at the insecurity.
scars are a sign of my fragile self image,
makeup is the mask i use to forget.
a thick black line tracing my eyelids;
a heavy layer of powder masking the blushing of my cheeks.

i pick at my mind to understand what this diagnosis means to me.
i pick and i pick and pick at every idea and thought of this hell the universe has placed me in.
i tear and rip at them until my mind is as numb as my skin.
i pick until i can pretend i can understand.
Ferrin McGinness Jun 2014
downtown is
a much newer scene than even
i thought it’d be - i was
prepared to be
a novice. i was prepared to be
out of place. and this was
nothing, i could handle these
old odd eyes, i just
wasn’t ready to feel so
dropped in.

but i’d drawn a diagram
of this situation,
a different specific

i can’t hear myself think)

why am i surprised to feel
so dropped in
when i’ve drawn it?
drawn upon it?

why am i surprised
that a new brand new
situation feels
just the same as the new situations
of before, when i’ve
had so many
that i can picture the the sensation
of my brain?

i’ve made a series of green lines
on a yellow, lined piece
of paper.

i’ve meant to take it
to my shrink for months.
i had it in my purse and
my guts, when i entered,
decided to shrink.

i said
i was fine, and the same,
and i started to drop
the pills that stole my sleep
onto the streets.

it’s helped,
and i’m surprised. and my brain
feels more awake than
any other time
in the past

to which part of town
do i go to

from here?
Vale Luna Jul 2020
I have always been
too aware of the moon

Weeping because we will never
be closer together
Worshipping the ground
her light walks on
Worrying that her crescent’s point
will stab me in the back

I have never been
good with relationships.
Just got a new diagnosis a few days ago,,,,,,
think I'll make a series
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