I walk the line between love and hate
This apple's bad and rotten, rotten to the core
Get up, get up, and trick or treat
Get down, get down, my love!
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between war and peace
My business is a little **** Bill
I eat so much I don't walk I merely waddle!
No you wouldn't listen & I don't blame you
No I don't blame ya!
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between yin & yang
My rent is 0 a day
I can't move
You know that's the price you pay
Is life all in vain?
Starts off in my arm
Opens up my brain
I'm already in the nivarana -
Next stop is the paradise!
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between life and and death
Live fast, die young
Live fast, die young
I walk the line
Hate
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between joy and depression
While others have been thinking about it - I've been there and back
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
I walk the line
Between good and evil

Convalescence,
How are you?
Better,
But I've been saying it
Since the beginning.
Are the whispers inside true,
That maybe I can finally start to believe it?

What did it take,
Some may innocently wonder.
Patience.
With every single breath I make.
I've been half trying to ignore the improvement,
Fearing one moments notice will
Surely steal it all back.
"No," I whisper alone, "I want to be better."

The other half
Astonished,
I try to be proud for the little things now,
So really I should feel
Amazing.

I swear I do very much venerate all of my achievements,
It was the only way,
That I could continue to survive.

Unequivocally honestly,
I'm afraid.
Scared of it all going wrong again.
Waiting to feel the terror of all the endless times I've tried,
Getting thrown right back in my face again.
Because isn't that what's been destined to happen
From the very start?

I've been having an almost
Two month long rest,
A complete break of everything.
It was only meant to last a month, but after that month had been and gone,
It started to actually feel
A little better, brighter,
Less dark.

I'll admit it,
I'm guilty,
Guilty of getting comfortable with how it started to feel.
I didn't want it ripped away from me,
Please.
I know once it's gone it will be hard as Hell to get back,
I've already been through all that,
I am still.

I want to get back to pushing myself.
(Like this)
I never wanted to stop,
But I had to listen,
My body was screaming at me, for me
To stop.
And this evidence is telling me why I had to listen.
It seems you can't beat your body,
Ever, but especially not when it's fighting for you and against you.

And the symptoms yelled
Please stop, please be still,
Like they wanted me to sleep all day,
But still it will take half-a-year for there to be any difference.
But I waited.
I didn't get any choices.

So now, I'm sorry
It just terrifies me that trying,
When I finally let it be,
Might tear me back down, to where I used to be.
I'm not foolish enough to expect this is the end.
Surely when I try again my symptoms will join in too.
They only started to improve
The more I tried to rest.
Yes, eventually - After a lot of effort I got here,
But you have no idea how I tried.
How I limited my actions,
So in a month maybe it won't be so hard.
Now I'm here, I'm worried my efforts will send me back.
Wasted.
Don't make me go,
I don't want to be useless anymore,
I'm still bad but so much better,
Please don't
Stop me,
Hurt me,
Trip me,
Trap me,
Lose me to my own body.
Not anymore.
I'm still here
Fighting.

"it's so selfish of you to want more when others have so much less"
i'm sorry that i want a family who cares
i apologise for needing them to get on
it seems stupid of me to want them to accept my sexuality
crazy to even think i deserve someone
who believes my mental health is a real problem
i can't believe that i would ever ask not to be forced into a religion
a mindset i don't agree with
"still, it could be worse
you could be living in a war zone
starving to death
with no family at all"
what you don't know is that i'm constantly at war with myself
that my bulimia can't be controlled
that the family i have wish that i would disappear and rid them of their problems
don't pretend to understand
i already have too many people that fit into that category

I don't feel like I can,
What's the use?
They all want me to admit I'm broken,
So I keep refusing.
The few times I believe I'm suffering I can't admit,
Because they'll see it as proving them right,
And I need them to understand they've got it all wrong.
I want them to hurt like they've hurt me by their dismissal.
I don't want to see another psychiatrist I just want them to leave me alone,
It's not like they're ever going to help me.
Then there are times I know I just need to keep pushing,
To keep trying to find someone who will believe me,
Someone who won't just say it's because of my anxiety,
Except then my social anxiety comes back,
Because they keep proving to me that there's no way they'll think I'm not just mental.
And maybe sometimes they actually think they're being nice,
But seriously? Are they blind? They would never put up with that themselves.
They push me to my limit,
If it's evident I'm going insane then they should know,
That it's all because of them!
It would drive any emotionally/mentally stable person close to the edge,
But then by wandering over to it, they're proving themselves right,
And I don't want to help them.
They're not helping me.

I just want someone to hear what I'm saying,
And not immediately see "social anxiety"
After all, their labels of "needing psychiatric help" were never there when I needed them,
And I took it like the deepest stab back then,
And now, instead I can't push them away when I don't need them,
I can't escape the "should probably see a psychiatrist", "would probably benefit from counselling" and "symptoms are dissociative and functional"
I can't run fast enough from it -
God knows I can't even run at all,
But professionals tell me that "I can do it" as if I'm making it up,
Or should just try harder.
Do you really think I don't want to be capable of feeding myself food and drink?
At points I could try a thousand percent a thousand times to pick myself up from the floor again,
Will power doesn't work!
It doesn't get rid of physical barriers that everyone else is telling me are some result of trauma, stress or anxiety.

I feel like I've been beaten down so many times already,
I want to find out the truth but I'm too scared of being laughed at,
But I got over that fear that my social anxiety taught me when I first sought help,
I've tried so many times though,
And each time I've guessed the same negative outcome.
It's as if someone really is planning and plotting against me,
Will they not stop till they've gotten me admitted to somewhere I don't belong right now?
Even my reactions would serve as proof to them,
I must just be insane, completely deranged.
"Not normal"
Come on, I won't pretend to miss the meaning of that,
What they really meant was: that's not a mentally healthy person's reaction. Maybe she really is making it up.
The truth is you can't make stuff like this up!
You can't fake shaking the way I do,
Not even more than enough diazepam would cure it.

I know this doesn't help prove my sanity,
And this doubtfully sounds like anything poetic,
It's just I didn't feel like writing, and when I feel sad I can get angry,
I'm just trying to vent and tell the truth,
Because maybe one day, someone who feels as alone and disheartened as me,
Won't feel as bad as I feel.

It's really not glamorous,
And I don't know where I am finding the strength to share this from,
I need to get it out though,
And if anyone who needs to hear this, like me, to find out they are not really all alone reads this and finally feels a glimpse of safety,
Or even to open the eyes of people who wouldn't otherwise understand,
Then maybe this had a purpose.

And if anyone who ever reads this,
Happens to be a doctor,
Or mental health professional:
Please listen.
Please listen to your patients without judgements,
Without immediately linking physical symptoms that sound out of sorts, or that don't make sense, to what it says in their notes about their mental health.
The thing is a lot of people pick and choose what to listen to and when,
And in my experience it always seems to be the wrong choice at the wrong time.
If you have a patient who tells you they desperately need your help,
Or even the ones who are too afraid to ask but are despairingly trying to make you notice, to make you understand what they put up with day by day,
Please, please help them.
And don't you dare tell them, like one told me, to "throw away your crutches, I don't like you using them"
Because you are killing every shred of dignity that they are trying to cling onto.
All we want is to be taken seriously,
WE are trying to get better,
But are you really trying to help us?
You may think you are but perhaps you're probably not.
Please realise, that you're in such a respectful position that it's important how you handle what you say, your responses.
Please understand how you have the power to break vulnerable genuinely sick people.
Please believe people like me and listen when they say they don't think it's psychological.
Please listen.

My mind becomes cluttered.
Since I was a kid.. the simplest of thoughts add on  top of one another.

even though there is a big lack of stimulus
Like a television with one hundred channels demanding "A  view"
the "medical clicker" is lost and your brain seem's "too full to align with clearing itself back to  complicity..".
You are full in the head..newer ideas are next to impossible
temperament becomes askew
The "treatment" is "stimulus"
the doctors mistake such as "mania"
Since a hyperactive child never grows..the energies never cease, as well.
Blind eyes, who fail to "look outside an unorganized box of practioner's recycled thoughts,"
could ever help (neither the victim nor the prescribe)
to place on the right pair of glasses
Such failed views .. clarity.. shall never be  something that  they "see" in order "to grow" or are willing to "grow with" refusing newer education and treatment grounds  
An open page of a "still unfinished book"
Such meanings
which all who need to be "open eyed" enough to be able to show them in order "for  them to ever  know"
To teach the afflicted
"How to channel the energies and the focus"
as you mind's eyes are "in need of glasses"
Give the wrong treatment
and the medicine can burn out clearer views
than the regimens he's tried and deemed "the only one"
Not one size fits all
Look to the old, however, might be a mix with the new?
"Not every remedy is addictive or harmful"
"nor does one pair of glasses clear the visions of all.."

just as these so called "experts say"
to " save your life is the quota"
not "how many cases in which the practitioners have half-way  saved.. walking on egg-shells..to save  their own careers"
(Shells)


It makes another successful life
from a once cluttered mind
to loyalty and honor of the one who had helped him
Such a a once lost patient does keep in his now "clearer mind."
Who cared more for the advancement and quality of life of the one who asked for his "helpful hands"
Not "Magic hands"
"openness" is always the "better mixture" of "pills and therapy"
The vision cure that always seems to be the math equation that leads to successful medical group and their great sounding cliche and "medical change and reprimands."
Not afraid in sticking up for the betterment of their one client
then such additions of success become an army
of the "grown children"
with the right "pair of glasses"
that see more than just a "glass" half full, however, "the world."

Now, this bright and more colorfully lit world will shed light to those left "in the blurred dark"
as the once lost were found and the found shall become part in healing
those professionals who chase "selective cases" like "hungry sharks."

Rusted iron bar
Rough against my wrist
Trapping all the moonlight
Under crystal waves

****** mason jars
Menial joyless tryst
Draining all the starlight
Through crystal waves

Far as you are far
Listless in your way
Searching in your headlights
Flooding in my head

Rustic open scar
The grit all washed away
Deep beneath the moonlight
In crystal waves

I just can't no longer see
Without your rapidly deteriorating interest interest
What's killing me

Causality
Couldn't care less
It's killing me

Whatever life spared to see
Couldn't care less