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Alex Berthelot Feb 2017
to my family that doesn’t believe mental illness is real:

i sincerely hope you never get woken up in the dead of night
by a phone call from one of your precious girls, hundreds of
miles away from home, calling to tell you with a heart full
of pain yet a voice void of emotion, that she is so sorry
but she has to take all of her pills.

i hope you never find her so dissociated and confused,
walking in dangerous parts of town without a coat on,
in the snow, hoping someone would **** her or at the
very least she would freeze to death.

i hope you never have to plead with one of your girls
to not press the cold blade against her skin, or not
to put her neck through that noose she spent so much
time researching how to tie all while you’re desperately
trying to call an ambulance to her house, praying it will
get there in time.

i hope you never have to watch your child be escorted by
two cops from her room at the general hospital that she
was stuck in for nearly a week because her blood was so
poisoned from the lithium and her risk of seizure and
blood clots were so high, to be safely taken to a psych unit.

i hope you never have to watch your child be taken back
to a psych assessment room while you have to sit there
in the waiting room, pretending everything is okay all while
your heart is silently breaking into a million pieces because
your girl has been broken by abuse at another persons hand
and you couldn’t have stopped it from happening.

i hope you never have to see one of your girls get admitted
to a psych unit. one minute you walk in with your suicidal
child and 2 two hours later you walk out, but this time alone,
knowing that there is nothing you can do to ‘fix’ your hurting baby.

no mother or father wants this for their child.
and no person chooses to have mental illness.

do you really think i wanted to spend my high school years
in and out of the hospital?

i don’t think you understand the loneliness that comes
from being stuck there while your ‘friends’ are only
worrying about the next big test that was coming up.

i would have loved to only be worrying about that next test
but instead i was preoccupied with death, wanting nothing
more than to finally feel the pain draining from my body.

do you really think i enjoyed having to strip down naked,
no underwear or no bra, every day so the hospital staff
could make sure i wasn’t still hurting myself?
i felt like i was being violated all over again.

do you really think i enjoyed having to sleep on a mattress
on the floor with the lights on so hospital staff could watch
me to make sure i didn’t **** myself?

i hated being in the hospital.
and i was terrified knowing that when i got out i had to
find the strength to walk back into school with a smile
on my face despite knowing that i would have to see
my abuser walking the same hallways everyday.

you don’t know my story. it’s none of your business.
but since you have felt the need to pass judgment
on my family and i, i thought i would let you know
that your ignorance is a death sentence to some,
not me, i’m learning to deal with my dark thoughts,
but to others who aren’t fortunate enough to have the
support and resources that i do,
it sends them straight to their graves.

mental illness is real,
and the stigma that ignorance creates, kills.

and i hope that if one of your children is
ever plagued by an illness similar to mine,
that they feel comfortable enough coming to you.
and if not, i hope they feel comfortable coming to
me. i will lend a non judgmental, compassionate ear.
because the only thing that ever talked me off the edge
all of those dark, cold and lonely nights was just that:
compassion.
the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne
the length of legs, the depth of eyes
more medical trips and taxicab drives
blood tests, x-rays, candy bars from vending machines
visitors in lab coats
questions
touches
from cold metal, cold skin
antiseptic aromas
waiting in cold rooms, in backless hospital gowns
a flash of skin from the hot patient
next to me, an inviting smile
a ***** of crotches
a wheelchair comes
to take me
away


*Dec., 2002
From my book, A Deep, Blue Dreaming (Magick Boy's Lost Episodes); Poems by, _Richard J. Treitner; by Shivastan press.
Shiny Star Jan 2017
A bright, blinding light glows
Above me with brilliance,
Contrasting the ambiance.
My eyes are fixed on the hospital room's ceiling,
While my ****** expressions change.
I see instruments used on me.
I let wave after wave of pain
Wash through me
And wait for the agony to subdue.
Sadly, hitherto, there is no distraction of any kind
That makes me forget the unbearable pain.
At the moment of utter helplessness,
The lines of my poem
Come to my rescue,
The words slowly taking birth,
Take my mind off agony.
I think of ways to describe
The hell I’m going through,
Knowing only too well
That I might not be the best person
To paint the picture.
Yet, here is my attempt!
I have the mad desire,
Raging through me,
To somehow leave my body,
Take my soul with me
And run away from the room.
I just wish I had the powers of Doctor Strange,
So I could escape into another realm,
Where I can have peace,
Where there is no pain.
Lying down there,
I secretly wish for death to take me,
Which I believe is sweeter
Than the inescapable torture
I face as a patient.
But that would make me selfish,
For I would leave my people,
The people who love me,
With a void that cannot be filled.
So, I wait patiently for my term
As a patient to come to an end.
And while I wait for the end,
I am writing this.
Jet Rose Jan 2017
Their eyes glance at me, I sense the awkwardness, what shall we say to him?

You see I'm the man next door who's mind who they say
has crossed the line , the Drs call it mental illness, I say that's a crime.

For it is true that I'm chaotic and rapant at times,  
creativity should be nurtured, not medicated and fined.

You see I'm the man next door who's seen as 'unwell' for they see the police take me to the cells.  

I tell you honestly that this is no curse, just a alternate state of mind, try opening your eyes, you maybe suprised.
Hayley Siebert Jan 2017
You tell me I'm selfish
But who was left to clean the blood?
Who left their children, for their love twas never good enough!
We were never good enough for you to live...
we were only good enough for you to die.

I took my fill, repeated history
as my uncle before me
walked between life and death
even before I left your womb
I was on the edge, between worlds
lost in the void

My heart stopped twice
And it has tried to stop ever since
all it has ever wanted, was to STOP

You were rushed out
with every peeping light
every flashing siren, every nurse and doctor
There is no power in motherhood
where death is concerned

Tiny little babe, with no air to breathe
no strength to thrive and no life to live
was forced yet to live

By "force" I mean you.

You call me selfish
40 intoxicating pills later
You call me selfish
A bloodied arm later
You call me selfish
23years later.

In truth I was forced to live
You are selfish
You forced me to live
a life you couldn't even live for...

You are selfish
because you failed to pull the plug
Kash Jan 2017
Everyday I show up
After the privilege of sleeping at home
To partial hospitalization
A step down from residential
Now they feed my six meals a day
And my whole body resists
As I choke down my meal plan
And cry an internal song
Of repetitive stories
Terrified of my changing shape
Doubtful of their expertise
A frustration beyond myself
A secret plan to return
To my comfortable place
Where I starve into emotional regulation
A safe place to rest a weary, threatened head
How will I ever get better?
Steve Page Dec 2016
Reasons to be tearful
1 2 3 daughters
Sitting in Bay 3 in A&E;
Praying for recovery
With oxygen and tlc.
The drip drip hangs silently
While she lays restless
In a bed that's temporary
Leaving everything unsaid
Leaving nothing unsaid
Punctuated with apology.
Cursing the immodest gown
That's flapping around
Dozing within the bustle around
Her exhaustion and frustration
Tainting all conversation
While her smile's still strong
Between episodes of expletion.
Doctors come doctors go
Nurses stay longer than they ought to
Breaking rules to console
While our mum offers up
'I'm sorry' from her heart
And we know this is just the start
Of a brand new hurt.
Hospitals at Christmas with family.
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