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Bea Burnett May 2020
Her body lights up,
every nerve and fibre of being shiver.
A caffeinated corpse.
Highs and lows intertwine like lovers lips,
They marry a blue flame, scorching under skin.
Unfulfilling desires creep under her temples.
Give in-
it serenades softly as she sinks into her seat.
Heels burrow into dirt in attempts to ground the soaring impulses.
She is possessed by this heat.

My flame flickers,
Put your hand in your knickers.
My inferno insists,
Slice your wrist.
My blaze bellows,
Substances mellow!

When the wick wears thin, down cools her skin.
Like the sea crashing into cove, she sinks into deep blue,
An icy numb hollows her chest,
Laced with convoluted breath.
Freighted by the weight of a heavy heart, she sighs as tears linger in her eye.

The cold is calling,
I feel myself falling.
I wrote this about what I experience during a manic episode and the adrenaline rush and impulses.
Quinn Adaire Nov 2019
I thought you were ok
Guess it was too early to say.

Now you collapse in my arms
Your walls fall down, broken charms.

Your tears soak me to the bone
I feel cold, you feel alone.

You’re not alone.
My best friend has bipolar disorder/manic depression.
Persephone Salix Oct 2019
i am supposed to be okay.
i told them all i knew what to do if i started feeling this way again.
i really thought i did

i thought i could prevent this
but it is all coming back
i was supposed to be the miraculous  recovery
the story of hope

but i have slipped back into my old patterns
faster than i could realize it
it seems too late now

another round in the match against the darkness
that fills my insides
the darkness that slithers and creeps
its way through my once bright mind
putting out any source of light and
draining all colors

i have fought this before
and seemed to have won
but it never takes long
for it to regain strength and start
strangling me from the inside
once again

a familiar feeling of emptiness fills my body
each time those cold dark fingers
wrap around my soul
it grows stronger with each
grotesque thought it sends
into my now darkened mind

the color and light that once inhabited this cavern
are starved of the positivity they need to burgeon
and so they lie weakened
dwindling and starving on the damp ground
becoming more frail with each wave
of pain and despair

faster and faster this climate becomes too harsh for them
and they are gone
vanished alongside hopefulness and optimism

i try to recall what it felt like
when the color and light still remained
but the thought seems distant and foreign

i cannot wrap my mind around the way i used to think and feel
filled with naivety and hope
i squashed negative thoughts
with thoughts of love
and positivity
but now the roles are reversed

every day i search for that sliver of love and happiness
which i know is behind one of these doors
in the darkened hallways of my mind
one day i shall find it

i know this search will not conclude soon
and i will not find what i am looking for
as quickly as i want to

but when i do

and i know i will

i will nourish it
like my own child
it will grow stronger and stronger
with each step i take towards the light

it will nurse on my laughter
and feed on my joy

one day i will find this light
and care for it like one of my own

i just cannot bear the wait
the search
the feeling in its place

but for now
i will keep on looking
because i refuse to let
the darkness win
We are aware of the darkness that a judgmental mind could never interpret,
regrettably a sympathetic one whom may never understand,
the unfortunate occasion that you may never comprehend,
nevertheless, the inconsolable thoughts taking possession as we ill-advisedly perceive it all.

We plead with our wits next to the shadowy void to pull itself together for the considerate rope, thrown by the aiding, observant heart, whom questionably believes they may be witness to a faltering mind.
Observing the consciousness of the defeated soul that appears to be in despair without hope,
whos only aspirations seem simply to be a desire for a purpose, if not just appreciated for unobserved accomplishments,
but as the Darkness appears it’s difficult to grasp the disoriented, desolated mind that was ******, abruptly upon us.

As much as you try to alleviate the agony you attest to see, handing over your own strength you long to be received,
There is still the over-whelming pull of our defective mind,
discouraging thoughts that blind the help being offered that we push aside,
we feel the need of fight or fly, as we flee to our merciless evacuation,
It’s in that moment we freely descend,
Diving into the captivating abyss,
With the knowledge of knowing we may never ascend again.
            
You can’t hear the darkness’s dialogue, but we listen to the seductive silence as the chemicals misalign,
the reckless, misguided drop into the blinding dark hole that feels numb in awareness, but aching to touch,
the darkness can speak for as long as we reluctantly consent,
despite the fact it leaves us feeling insignificant,
we let darkness define us and at times its abundant touch is imprudently enough to keep us retreating to darkness’s lair for refuge from our detrimental behavior.

We reach, we scream, we dig our nails into the muddy wall, but the hole is too deep; the rope isn’t long.
Maybe it’s a test as you climb the roots; but the darkness is still there grabbing at your legs, whispering to you that you’re meant to be here instead.
“It’s safe here!” Darkness says.  “They can’t get you here! They may get past that concrete wall, but not in this destitute of twigs and straw, but if they do, they could get stuck, too, maybe I’ll haunt them instead of you?”
I should have known how easy it was to fall so gracelessly into a shadowy hole that I know shows when prompted by self-possessed triggers in life that you can’t help but let devour the night.
We find ourselves asking if we should even reach up.
We began to wonder if the hole was meant to collect what we feel is broken and left for dead.
Some find us weak, but they have no clue,
When we do choose to be, we fight this battle almost daily, so you can’t say what weakness is,
When you’ve never needed the strength to fight the dark to begin with.

By,
Natalie M. Lawrence
I suffer from manic depression and when I become manic I write. I am also an advocate for mental health and try to find ways for others who don't suffer to understand what it's like while at the same time letting those who do know that they are not alone.
So in this Darkness is the fight we are up against. Always.
Jamie Lee Oct 2018
Waking up next to you, and what do I see?
A smirk and a kiss, coming from someone happy
Your eyes cloudy from all of that dreaming
But clearly there's things between the lines
That I'm not reading

I have been questioned if I knew the person I loved
And I have answered yes, with such confidence
With a smile that could break boundaries, but apparently ignorant
How could I not know the other half of myself? My dearest friend?
But I see your scriptures, your withering sentiment
There are things I do not know yet

I have tried to crack open the skull and see what's inside
I wonder how much truth all find, and see how many lies have been fed to me
I could just live in ignorance, continue to think I know and live so easily
I have given life times of love
But is it enough?
Oh, maybe the lies just please me
But there are things in between the lines of your poetry that I am not reading

The insides of you may only be a stranger, I only know the paths of your skin
And the corners of your smile, and the symphony of laughter
I will continue to be on the outside, circulating my way in, but always meet a guard at the door
Pointing me the other way, from the person I adore
And who is that? I do not know anymore.
It is you, but who are you?

So many demons of yours that I have never been introduced too.
I thought my empathy and my heart had a couple of uses
Maybe I want you hold you, and kiss your bruises
Maybe I want you to take me down the dark hallways, past the guards and the locks
To tell me about your drug uses, and all of your abuses

But you sprinkle me with stardust until I am stunned
Keep me occupied with your words and your tongue
Keep me sleeping, 12 hours around the clock, over time
Keep me from reading in between the ******* lines
Anno Sep 2018
It ticks
Like a bomb
Inside a cave
When it explodes
It only has one place to go
Out the way it came
With fast wind
Hot fire
And death
That follows
May 29, 2013 6:59pm
Emily McClelland Jul 2018
Emotion burgeons with each passing day,
becoming indolent through exhaustion.
Calling for help imperatively,
but not being heard through a cloud so thick.
Emily McClelland Jul 2018
Adulate the figure above,
allowing for hope and grandiosity to take hold.
In a mind so broken, it must crack to be restored.
Jaine Feb 2018
Bipolar is a tricky thing
One second is the time of you life
The next your wishing for death
You confuse people with your emotions
Little do they know
They confuse you too
You wish you were normal
You wish you could change
But this is your life
Forever confused
I am over this "happiness is a mindset"-"find a love that makes you forget you were ever depressed"-"medication changes your personality"-"just think happy thoughts"-"have you tried yoga?" *******.
Nowadays, everyone has self diagnosed depression- and won't shut up about it.
And now when I say "I've had manic-depression and was diagnosed with it when I was 9." what most people think I mean was "I need attention, and I have to be like everybody else."- tumblr is my life- *******.
Happiness is a mindset that I was never wired to have, and I am not in control of changing the programming from the inside. I cannot forget that I was ever depressed, when I have known depression since I took my first breath of fresh air out of the womb- as if it's woven into the very fabric of my skin- and I know my skin about as well as I know myself and I've been stuck with both my entire life- an invisible twin that I never ******* asked for. Sure, medication changes my personality-. It makes me function like a normal human being, instead of one that wants to swallow all of those pills and stop breathing- for no reason other than a lack of the same chemicals you can find in that pill that I take into my mouth and swallow every day as if it is my soul that I am swallowing, and not a chalky, white tablet. I cannot think happy thoughts when that it a language that I do not speak and no matter how I have tried to learn, I just can't seem to get the grammatical structure correct- don't even get me started about conjugating verbs because my depression prevents me from doing a ******* thing anyways. I cannot just do some ******* yoga, because all that does is make my body stronger- it cannot alter and rewire my brain to suddenly do something it's never done, and I cannot begin to tell you all of the ways my therapist and I have tried to figure out a way to wave a magical ******* wand and suddenly I'm cured, and how my therapist definitely is not a ******* fairy, and my psychiatrist is really just my potions master, how I've been on **** near every kind of pill, how those pills have kept me alive, how if I miss even one dose, suddenly I imagine how jumping off of a building is the exact way that I want to end this agony- but with no reason to jump, nothing pushing me. Except maybe the fact that having manic depression, gives me more depression- like a never ending plant that just is.. always in ******* season, and boy do I have some ******* allergies.
I cannot begin to tell you how it felt to be 9 years old when my father sat me down and asked me point blank "Honey- you look sad, all the time. Why are you sad?" and bursting into tears like a water fountain bursting a pipe and saying "Daddy, I don't know. I just am. I always am."
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