All of those people around you, hoping just for a glimpse  of
something from the mental health care world
   that could give them even just one reason to stay

  .. And all around you  they are dying
     while you cater to your own, vain emptiness.

Credentialed now,  everyone loves you.
     And still  all around you,
     the ones you were meant to be here for, die.


**** your fake humility, oh empty one.
**** your fake friends, and self-serving peers.
**** your self centered, empty-souled vanity.

All around you, they are dying.
And will continue to die.  
     You were the one.


One behalf of all the fallen..
and those who sadly  will one day all alone, fall.
On behalf of them all:


     *******   Y O U.

I see the way
She cradles you
With arms filled with tender love.

I see the way
She looks at you
With a wealth of
Love and affection flowing naturally.

Autumn, she loves you
Beyond measure.

When she speaks about you,
I can hear the pride in her words
And the excitement that comes
From knowing she is your mother.

I'm really scared,
I fear bugs and flying insects,
But they are not my biggest fears,
I fear worms and spiders,
But they are not my major fear,
Even if I sum up all my fears,
Everything I'm most scared of it still can't compete with one,
The fear of You,
I fear that one day you will become we,
I fear that one day we will become three,
I fear that one day three will have a dog,
Such beautiful fears I have of you,
I'm really scared,
That one day you will walk away,
And leave me fearless.
                              Iwa.

I think about you all the time,
I dream about you all the time,
I miss you all the time,
I remember all the time,
You torture me all the time,
I regret you all the time,
I'm sorry all the time,
But don't forgive me- I'll change my mind.

But can you love me in the deep? In the dark? In the thick of it?
Can you love me when I drink from the wrong bottle and slip through the crack in the floorboard?
Can you love me when I’m bigger than you, when my presence blazes like the sun does, when it hurts to look directly at me?
Can you love me then too?
Can you love me under the starry sky, shaved and smooth, my skin like liquid moonlight?
Can you love me when I am howling and furry, standing on my haunches, my lower lip stained with the blood of my last ****?
When I call down the lightning, when the sidewalks are singed by the soles of my feet, can you still love me then?
What happens when I freeze the land, and cause the dirt to harden over all the pomegranate seeds we’ve planted?
Will you trust that Spring will return?
Will you still believe me when I tell you I will become a raging river, and spill myself upon your dreams and call them to the surface of your life?
Can you trust me, even though you cannot tame me?
Can you love me, even though I am all that you fear and admire?
Will you fear my shifting shape?
Does it frighten you, when my eyes flash like your camera does?
Do you fear they will capture your soul?
Are you afraid to step into me?
The meat-eating plants and flowers armed with poisonous darts are not in my jungle to stop you from coming. Not you.
So do not worry. They belong to me, and I have invited you here.
Stay to the path revealed in the moonlight and arrive safely to the hut of Baba Yaga: the wild old wise one… she will not lead you astray if you are pure of heart.
You cannot be with the wild one if you fear the rumbling of the ground, the roar of a cascading river, the startling clap of thunder in the sky.
If you want to be safe, go back to your tiny room — the night sky is not for you.
If you want to be torn apart, come in. Be broken open and devoured. Be set ablaze in my fire.
I will not leave you as you have come: well dressed, in finely-threaded sweaters that keep out the cold.
I will leave you naked and biting. Leave you clawing at the sheets. Leave you surrounded by owls and hawks and flowers that only bloom when no one is watching.
So, come to me, and be healed in the unbearable lightness and darkness of all that you are.
There is nothing in you that can scare me. Nothing in you I will not use to make you great.
A wild woman is not a girlfriend. She is a relationship with nature. She is the source of all your primal desires, and she is the wild whipping wind that uproots the poisonous corn stalks on your neatly tilled farm.
She will plant pear trees in the wake of your disaster.
She will see to it that you shall rise again.
She is the lover who restores you to your own wild nature.