I am so sick that I feel
I am so sick that I hear
I am so sick that I smell
Sick of the patented experience

I am so insane I can read books
I am so insane I can converse
I am so insane I can see
Insane because of pseudoscience

I am mentally ill because of what I hear
I am mentally ill because of what I write
I am mentally ill because of what I see
Mentally ill because of segregation & isolation

I am mad because of audio software
I am mad because of video software
I am mad because of editing software
Mad because of channels & mixers in a studio

We are sane because of witnesses
We are sane because of kindness
We are sane because of love
Sane because of strangers

Love is an illness
The number one side effect
Caring far too much

sick and crumbling from sweated sheets onto the ground
i don't want to be found like this, don't want to be seen
cause my body's giving up, my weakness, it's so lame
keeling over in pain and illness, i say

"go away"
but i don't want you to go away
i'm afraid to die alone... hey
NO

I’m sick of being tired
Constantly on the go
Because if I don’t leave enough time for myself, than I don’t have to acknowledge that i’m not doing ok.
I’ll keep overbooking my schedule until I’m so far run into the ground
That all that’s left to do is place the stone.

Im sick of being tired
Every action dictated by a thousand various imagined world exploding outcomes.
None of which come true.
Because if I’ve thought of every single thing that CAN happen- I can’t be surprised, disappointed, or let down, when it does occur.
The last thread of control in my grasp
But my grip is growing weak.

I’m tired of being sick
knowing that something isn’t right and constantly trying to figure it out.
Like trying to find Waldo on the page.
Everything becomes a blur of colors, frustration grows, until, right in front of you all along, there he is, the mystery solved.
Until you turn the page.

And I’m tired of being sick
and continuously adding names to the list of people I feel I disappoint.
True or not
It’s rapidly growing.

I want to feel ok
But I don’t
I want my friends to think I’m ok
But I’m not
I want to break free from this circle
But,
Really,
I’m sick of being tired
And I’m tired of being sick

when I tell my mom I feel sick
the first thing she does
is kiss my forehead to see if I have a fever
and
I just feel like
there's a metaphor there somewhere

I think the funny thing
It's not the
Staying in bed for days
Awake and then
Sleeping in few
Hour increments

(and certainly not the night I woke up at two
to the sound of the darkness
how I could hear it whispering my name
I didn't fall asleep until I saw the sun)

but
I think the funny thing
Is how even after days in bed
My every need passed over on a platter
(From six feet away)
Recovery is not a steep *****

Over a week, and I'm still hacking up phlegm
(I realize that's disgusting to picture
Trust me, tasting it is worse)

Oh, so I should be grateful
"It's not covid, so you're fine"
(Not that I got tested,
I have a sensitive nose
It bleeds very easily.
Decided it was safer to stay home)

"I'm sorry, but we have to cancel
Thanksgiving.... No, we don't think we're contagious, but we want to be sure.... Thank you for understanding!"

My sister was showing symptoms
The strep test was negative
A doctor says it was allergies

That's nice, but a 99.8
Isn't allergies

So yes
The funny thing
Is the recovery
But only because there doesn't seem to be any of it.

A mosaic of falling seeds
spins me sickly into a coma.
The only thing that saves, keeps
me from tumbling down - her aroma.

All the thoughts like ants have gone away,
they crawled through my ears, my mouth.
Oh, the mouth, the royal taste - just stay,
rave on my flesh, love well-wrought .

And there I lie - on the lips
that are not mine - neither his.
Rather die than lose those strips
of pretty scarfs I could kiss.