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On the map there 's a tripod
And an eye blinking trying to focus
Far away on a land called Tierra de Fuego
And there  goes  my Muse's Range Rover
Greenlaning la luz del amanecer
Tracking butterflies orchids grasshoppers and dragons,
Sad salads and fired bananas and dew
And all sorts of bits and bobs
Keeping corrections to a minimum.
If it looks Topaz
She didn't do it !
She's more like aurora,
Traveling long distance with laughter
Or lenses cooking light with cuddles
Or stir frying a full curried moon over the volcanoes
Of seven types of fired bananas
Always worried about aperture and exposure
My muse wouldn't live without her lens bathing
Diving and swimming into the warm and shallow depth of field
Just as she wouldn't live without her daily dose
Of nine megapixels of bioluminescent plankton
Because my Muse is an addict
My muse is a Nikon D800 addict
and an aurora addict as well
Earthing and grounding relentlessly
The inner storms of morning light
Leading to her native archipelago
Of Tierra del Fuego !!
And the ground beneath
My feet vanishes.
The air in my lungs
Evaporates within me.
The blood in my veins
Exsanguinates through my pores.
And my mind shrivels and expands
Like the core ready to explode.
And I’m dying.

5 things I can see:
The chair
The sky
The door
The walls
My hand

The walls are closing in.
4 things I can touch:
The floor
The chair
My hair
The walls

The walls swirl in my vision
3 things I can hear:
The birds outside
The fan
The sound of my feet bouncing off the floor.

The walls move in and out of my vision.
2 things I can smell
The cut grass.
The sweat on my skin

The walls
1 thing I can taste:
The salt on my lips.

And then the walls vanish.
It is on the nights, when I can think,
That there is nothing left for me to do
But drown, panic, sink
This music around me changes the scene
I can't figure out how to feel
My mind is so mean
Please save me from what I am fighting
I miss your warm touch
Please save me from dying
Please be my crutch
You took a chance
saw my wilted petals,
the people passing by
hearing them say
I was too far gone
and watered me
with your words
you took the time
you trimmed the leaves
you turned the soil
you planted my roots deep
you shone your light
you brought me back to life
Forgotten Pages Mar 2018
When I needed words, he gave me silence
When I needed quiet, he gave me noise
Yet I have come to rely on his steadfast presence
His chaos - the only grounding force in my life
Chelsea Rae Dec 2017
At least I know
That even though
Humans disappoint me,
That this soil and earth
can heal and feel this soul.

At least I can be grateful for the fact that
A storm can relate to my broken mind.

At the very minimum,
at least I know that I can connect with something
in a way that I wish another could.

But souls are a world all their own
and it takes a stroke of luck
to experience something that strong.
Katie Hawkins Oct 2017
The earth nurtures me.
It carries the mist in my soul,
Out of an outline.
In a space to blank.

My weight leaves.
My features disappear.
It feels empty,
But whole.

The water floats me gently.
It rushes my pain.
Out my whole it runs.
To be smothered gently.

My weight leaves.
My features disappear.
It feels empty,
But whole.

The fire melts me.
A liquid in heat,
That flows out smooth.
A shot so warm it welcomes.

My weight leaves.
My features disappear.
It feels empty,
But whole.

The air carries me.
To fly and fall but remain in place.
She whispers gently,
And I feel loved.

My weight leaves.
My features disappear.
It feels empty,
But whole.

My ground is gone,
And instead I am whole.
Dragons dance in my soul,
And flowers sing in my mind.

My weight leaves.
My features disappear.
It feels empty,
But whole.

I shall dream and wish.
Endless I sleep when awake.
I cry when happy,
And I scream when safe.

My weight leaves.
My features disappear.
It feels empty,
But whole.

It all becomes a lie,
In all eyes undignified.
Perhaps it is too soon
For innocence of youth.

My weight leaves.
My features disappear.
It feels empty,
But whole.

You laugh and mock,
While the music carries,
The soul to paradise so pure.
While life rots in sickness.

My weight leaves.
My features disappear.
It feels empty,
But whole.

She calls my name.
She whispers gently.
She melts me,
Floats me,
And nurtures me.
Identity I have,
But features I leave behind.
For in those eyes,
We are one.

My weight leaves.
My features disappear.
It feels empty,
But whole.
K Sep 2017
I'm convinced that having anxiety gives you radar
You can spot people with anxiety from a mile away
And when you see them
You just want to hug them
And tell them it'll be okay
and you wish someone would do that to you
but that takes a lot of energy and fighting with yourself and we're all terrified of rejection and vulnerability and ******* talking to people
The tell-tale signs become more obvious
The little ticks
Shaking legs
Tapping fingers
Grinding teeth
Rubbing hands together
Pulling at clothes
You know because you catch yourself doing them all the time
You'll know its a bad day when you can see the red mark over the scar tissue on my bottom lip
You can measure by how my nails look
Or how filled in my eyebrows are
because my fingers decide to declare war there when I'm not paying attention
I swear, when I'm stressed, I can never get the taste of blood off of my tongue
Like an iron key in my mouth
The entropy in my head is enough to drive a physicist mad
Panic attacks aren't always apparent
Sometimes it's just being overly quiet
And your lungs forget how to be lungs
and you just remember the lights
or the floor
or how everything blurs at the edges
I see shopping carts, soap dispensers, street lights, desks, your car window
I can touch the water, her hands, the table, the doorknob
I hear cars passing, people talking, the song you would sing to me
I smell oil and tires
I taste blood.
honey Jun 2017
I sip my coffee and watch the people
They each have their own story to tell, their own past
Maybe they can’t remember theirs
Maybe they don’t want to anymore
Maybe they loved every second of it
Maybe they hated it
But they are here
They made it
Every choice they ever made led them here to this sip of coffee
To this conversation with a stranger
To this smile and this breath of air
It’s beautiful and complicated
But I am here
I made it
I sip my coffee
I watch the people
I smile
I am here
a poem about this morning, i sat in starbucks and people watched. i have bipolar disorder and lately things have been rough but today i grounded myself and simply existed. cherish the small moments my friends
Journey of Days Apr 2017
tell me something
I  need to hear your voice

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