#bipolarity - Hello Poetry

Fighting my bipolar disorder is climbing a fairytale mountain with agility, speed, joy— then slipping, slowly, into a bottomless abyss. Terror does not scream, it freezes. Darkness moves without sound through my mind. My loved ones change faces, their voices warp, carry atrocities I don’t recognize. Their shadows follow me. So I run. I flee to survive what may not even be real— and yet burns. The fear is a pain so sharp it cuts through me like fire, and sometimes I wish someone would extinguish it by extinguishing me. I am burning. ⸻ And yet, this mountain— of unreal, almost sacred beauty— is mine. Every day, I cling to the fragile thread of reason, knowing the fall is never far. ⸻ At the summit, my soul races. Everything becomes light, everything becomes possible. The horizon opens like an infinite promise and I lose myself in it. My breath shortens in this air too pure. I feel invincible, guided by invisible signs, carried by thoughts that burst too fast, too bright— words spill over, nights fracture, the world accelerates until it blinds me. ⸻ So I learn to look for refuges. A lake. A forest. A river. Simple places where time slows without judging me. ⸻ Serenity is not a summit. It is a pause. A suspended moment where I taste time as it is, without chasing what comes next. It is there— in that gentle light— that something holds. Fragile, but alive. A balance that blooms despite everything

0

May 6

May 6, 2026 at 10:49 AM UTC

Callixiope

Between radiance and ruin

Fighting my bipolar disorder is climbing a fairytale mountain with agility, speed, joy— then slipping, slowly, into a bottomless abyss. Terror does not scream, it freezes. Darkness moves without sound through my mind. My loved ones change faces, their voices warp, carry atrocities I don’t recognize. Their shadows follow me. So I run. I flee to survive what may not even be real— and yet burns. The fear is a pain so sharp it cuts through me like fire, and sometimes I wish someone would extinguish it by extinguishing me. I am burning. ⸻ And yet, this mountain— of unreal, almost sacred beauty— is mine. Every day, I cling to the fragile thread of reason, knowing the fall is never far. ⸻ At the summit, my soul races. Everything becomes light, everything becomes possible. The horizon opens like an infinite promise and I lose myself in it. My breath shortens in this air too pure. I feel invincible, guided by invisible signs, carried by thoughts that burst too fast, too bright— words spill over, nights fracture, the world accelerates until it blinds me. ⸻ So I learn to look for refuges. A lake. A forest. A river. Simple places where time slows without judging me. ⸻ Serenity is not a summit. It is a pause. A suspended moment where I taste time as it is, without chasing what comes next. It is there— in that gentle light— that something holds. Fragile, but alive. A balance that blooms despite everything

82

The sand wants to be here, or on the other side -- not in the middle.

0

May 2, 2023

May 2, 2023 at 3:17 AM UTC

Zywa

[ The sand wants to be ]

The sand wants to be here, or on the other side -- not in the middle.

3

There's no other way. I must be white when he's black -- be black when he's white.

0

Apr 30, 2023

Apr 30, 2023 at 3:18 AM UTC

Zywa

[ There's no other way ]

There's no other way. I must be white when he's black -- be black when he's white.

3

I'm drugged in pain Drugged in bipolarity Drugged in the search for answers Drugged in the desire of you When you don't even care But it's fine, i'll die anyway.

0

Oct 18, 2020

Oct 18, 2020 at 5:44 PM UTC

mistontheriver

Slow death

I'm drugged in pain Drugged in bipolarity Drugged in the search for answers Drugged in the desire of you When you don't even care But it's fine, i'll die anyway.

6

She kept staring at the full moon Her friend, confidant, fixation Regretfully, I learn later, her escape I kept talking in eerie silence And keeping company to no effect She like a bird tethered in a cage I remember that night Solemn the scar Fourteen years hence We were parked along a beach in Hawaii Paradise one would think Man and wife Gazing in the opposite direction I learn later our lasting vacation Somewhere in the distance Happy palm trees dance to the music of the waves Whitecaps accentuate the moonshine of the night sea Statues of tall mountains stand sentry Separated by a treeline Rolling hills, bare picket fences And a defining moment In the darkness and contrast In·con·gru·ous I see a few horses approaching our view, us No doubt curious My wife jests, as her eyes, depart the moon Her reverie, her prayer pause As the inside of the car shrivels My heart braces Her words, one by one Denouncement at its finest As she looks back at the horses, then me "Even the poppies are in love They're so stable" She says this over and over For my effect Her eyes glassy Her voice but a whisper Steel, still Drawing the horses nearer Where soon their eyes And noses peek through the fences of gloom Big and brown, Neighing She begins to tear Again Sad and red Real childlike Her past begins to flash Where she says something to the effect That she once worked the corner of 42nd steet In San Francisco A bombshell went off The horses sank in their seats Lava spewed from my head Mount Robertson in ashes No votive candles could save her Or us Her angels on her shoulder Lost to her rescue Only albatrosses Sinking Sinking, us Again in reverie "Even the poppies are in love They're so stable" On and on "I once worked the corner of 42nd Street In San Francisco" Her words, again, like ice Melting Reverberating in my mind Where did I go wrong, I thought Melancholy on the rocks That night a man And a moon cried The sublimity of her message The pantomime The mock of steel The planted seeds The turning point I can only gaze at the rolling hills Now with two horses hoofing it back to safety The darkness The lost rebuttal and love Her full moon So prophetic My teary eyes and mind could only wander Past the happy palm trees To the pieces of the puzzle "You don't love me any more" Deeply, I dug, wanting to find the answers As her eyes and fingers quickly curled my lips My insides a mess She blows out my candle Takes away the shovel I knew She knew No words needed to be expressed Only these "Even the poppies are in love They're so stable" Soon it seamed, Seemed Stitches of our love ripped apart That car that was once parked along the beach Paradise searching Now more suited for a funeral procession As we bereave the aloha attire, hotel, vacation and then the airport As two ships departed in bereavement Rudderless, without sails Our port becoming a pretense The living room couch soon my refuge Saturated with my tears Faithfulness and honor Her bi-polarity worsening Sadly Truly I didn't know at the time If only I had known Had some understanding The winds at war Of what was in her harbor More of the anchors of doom Holding her down The barnacles, erosions of her mind I could have helped I will always remember that night Fourteen years hence Two horses short of being stable And the battles in my mind The tears The waning days and months Where the seasons and time felt lost A year later, A morning dawn Mourned I looked into her vacant eyes The stillness She was finally at peace No longer tethered or caged There was a full moon the night before Logan Robertson 3/04/2019

0

Mar 4, 2019

Mar 4, 2019 at 8:17 AM UTC

logan-robertson

Two Horses Short of Being Stable

She kept staring at the full moon Her friend, confidant, fixation Regretfully, I learn later, her escape I kept talking in eerie silence And keeping company to no effect She like a bird tethered in a cage I remember that night Solemn the scar Fourteen years hence We were parked along a beach in Hawaii Paradise one would think Man and wife Gazing in the opposite direction I learn later our lasting vacation Somewhere in the distance Happy palm trees dance to the music of the waves Whitecaps accentuate the moonshine of the night sea Statues of tall mountains stand sentry Separated by a treeline Rolling hills, bare picket fences And a defining moment In the darkness and contrast In·con·gru·ous I see a few horses approaching our view, us No doubt curious My wife jests, as her eyes, depart the moon Her reverie, her prayer pause As the inside of the car shrivels My heart braces Her words, one by one Denouncement at its finest As she looks back at the horses, then me "Even the poppies are in love They're so stable" She says this over and over For my effect Her eyes glassy Her voice but a whisper Steel, still Drawing the horses nearer Where soon their eyes And noses peek through the fences of gloom Big and brown, Neighing She begins to tear Again Sad and red Real childlike Her past begins to flash Where she says something to the effect That she once worked the corner of 42nd steet In San Francisco A bombshell went off The horses sank in their seats Lava spewed from my head Mount Robertson in ashes No votive candles could save her Or us Her angels on her shoulder Lost to her rescue Only albatrosses Sinking Sinking, us Again in reverie "Even the poppies are in love They're so stable" On and on "I once worked the corner of 42nd Street In San Francisco" Her words, again, like ice Melting Reverberating in my mind Where did I go wrong, I thought Melancholy on the rocks That night a man And a moon cried The sublimity of her message The pantomime The mock of steel The planted seeds The turning point I can only gaze at the rolling hills Now with two horses hoofing it back to safety The darkness The lost rebuttal and love Her full moon So prophetic My teary eyes and mind could only wander Past the happy palm trees To the pieces of the puzzle "You don't love me any more" Deeply, I dug, wanting to find the answers As her eyes and fingers quickly curled my lips My insides a mess She blows out my candle Takes away the shovel I knew She knew No words needed to be expressed Only these "Even the poppies are in love They're so stable" Soon it seamed, Seemed Stitches of our love ripped apart That car that was once parked along the beach Paradise searching Now more suited for a funeral procession As we bereave the aloha attire, hotel, vacation and then the airport As two ships departed in bereavement Rudderless, without sails Our port becoming a pretense The living room couch soon my refuge Saturated with my tears Faithfulness and honor Her bi-polarity worsening Sadly Truly I didn't know at the time If only I had known Had some understanding The winds at war Of what was in her harbor More of the anchors of doom Holding her down The barnacles, erosions of her mind I could have helped I will always remember that night Fourteen years hence Two horses short of being stable And the battles in my mind The tears The waning days and months Where the seasons and time felt lost A year later, A morning dawn Mourned I looked into her vacant eyes The stillness She was finally at peace No longer tethered or caged There was a full moon the night before Logan Robertson 3/04/2019

144

I cried for no apparent reason I sobbed and teared my way out Silently without any reason I wailed hollowly as I silently shout I laughed for not a single thing in mind Smiling at everything in bliss I stared wide eyed like in treasures we find But deep in me something is amiss The hollow feeling of something which is not there The slight tingling of my numb soul The feverish and endless hunger I bear The empty shell drained from a gaping hole I am born to be as one destined To feel agony and joy I have virtue yet I sinned In deep eternity the lord's broken envoy Of deep hatred and much love The fear and bravery both halves Like the flying crow and dove I am a Yin and Yang created by the One Above.

0

Dec 26, 2016

Dec 26, 2016 at 3:34 AM UTC

vincent-allen-vicente-manuel

Episodes of A Bipolar Human

I cried for no apparent reason I sobbed and teared my way out Silently without any reason I wailed hollowly as I silently shout I laughed for not a single thing in mind Smiling at everything in bliss I stared wide eyed like in treasures we find But deep in me something is amiss The hollow feeling of something which is not there The slight tingling of my numb soul The feverish and endless hunger I bear The empty shell drained from a gaping hole I am born to be as one destined To feel agony and joy I have virtue yet I sinned In deep eternity the lord's broken envoy Of deep hatred and much love The fear and bravery both halves Like the flying crow and dove I am a Yin and Yang created by the One Above.

20