I wish I knew
Whether it was wrong or right
Is it really me,
Or is it my illness?
How would I know
What to listen to
When you occupy my mind

I don't know what to feel
Should I be concerned?
Maybe it is out of my hands
And maybe I should let it be
But how hard is that
When you have to decide

My mind just wont be quiet,

My brain is never still,

It's just one of the many things,

Of being mentally ill.

time passing
a place to be
nowhere to go
so it seemed

twenty-five hours ago
didn't we break free

wet Mondays
called out
the grooves
that smiled
in between
Needlehead
and me

You turn water into wine at a wedding,
then I sit on a Sabbath day watching
as you give a sermon better than the scribes,
drive a demon from the dead eyes
of an unclean man who screams
you’re the Holy God and King--
one night, I bring you home to my wife,
and her mother fevered, flickering life
on a bed upstairs she’s cold, shivering
til you hold her hand and lift her laughing,
well, so whole she can run to open the door
for knocking neighbors, who come in crying
and leave smiling, all sickness and evil spirits fleeing
you, who’s gone to pray when I wake next morning,
who I search for, frantic, fearing losing you
as I’ve just begun to find you.

My mind lies tattered on the floor,

Feeling lost, catching a chill,

A broken soul, a blackened heart,

For I'm mentally ill.

While my body bathed
In the awful waves of
Aching, numbing sand baths,
She reminded me that there's
A whole wide ocean out there,

And I need to worry nothing
When her velvet covered arms
Held my head,
Sang me to sleep,
And let me drift away
To some other day,
Perfectly in between
Never knowing
And knowing she'd make it all okay.

let me kiss your blood-stained lips
and breathe a last goodnight
let me caress your cold milk skin
and close your hollow eyes
never love a sick child
never let hearts run wild

i never stopped that thing -
that thing you told me to never do.
i never stopped going to the lake,
the beautiful red lake that ripples
when rain droplets fall.
i never stopped listening to the
sound of ripping fabric. it reminds me
of me.
i never stopped running home,
my home in-between ***** sheets
and dull blades.

and i don't want to see you,
because you'll tell me to stop.
you'll threaten to leave,
and i won't stop you.
because i'll never stop that thing -
that thing you told me to stop.