"diagnosed" poems
dedicated to all the better poets here...
don't know much about a quatrain
don't know how to write a refrain,
surely could not compose a
courtyard elegy
maybe after
and still untilled,
I been buried,
'n checked out
the neighborhood competition...
as for limerick,
that is Dr. Seuss
and Ogden Nash's shtick
with whom, eye,
a believed descendant,
cannot compete...
Oh dear me,
no ode node-ed within,
as for a pastoral,
kinda hard to feat,
where I live,
a pastoral is grass cracks
surviving under,
breaking through to the other side
of concrete and blacktop rulers
Maybe one of you
will haiku,
send us a senryu,
send off, see ya!
the doc once diagnosed
a severe case of inflamed iambic pentametery,
with antibiotics and a diet of Hamletery,
was cured most satisfactorily
this silly pen-man-sinking-ship
ain't capable of dat,
boy how 'bout
an epitaph
for a graveyard stone,
should be plenty of room...
as it will be plenty short...
all eye see and all eye know
is vignettes that birth in me
walking down the street,
that's my bread and butter,
my soul's delicacies...
and moments that recorded
here, for a posteriored posterity,
as noted in my all my living
testaments,
drinking and spilling the vin,
from the uninvented igniting vignettes
that consecrate and connect our
knowing each other though odds are
we will never meet...we can yet
drink together
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Don't know much about the French I took.
But I do know that I love you,
And I know that if you love me, too,
What a wonderful world this would be."
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 7:50 AM UTC
Just think when you're sick of working
someones desperate for any job
someones got 4 jobs and still can't pay their bills
Just think when you're down
someones contemplating suicide
someones been diagnosed with terminal cancer
Just think when you're hungry
someones really starving
someones watching their child die
Just think when you're aching
someones yelling the pain is so much
someones screaming tortured for just being
Just think for a moment
step outside of yourself
for just 5 minutes
Be grateful for every single day
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
May is Borderline Personality Disorder awareness month. I was diagnosed two years ago when I was 15, and I've now just turned 17. I haven't spoken of this much before, and I don't really talk about it in general, but I think it's important for those with this disorder to come together to support each other, and for those who don't have it to understand what it's like. If anyone wants to talk or needs support,
I'm here for you. You're beautiful, stay strong.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
I was once asked to spell the word Depression
Now that was an interesting question to me because lets face it
Who does not know how to spell depression
It is three syllables
It is ten letters
It is just once word
Or at least that was the answer he was looking for.
I was once asked to spell the word Depression
I thought for a second and said
"Which way would you like me to spell it"
The teacher paused and looked at me quizzically
"What kind of question is that"
He chuckled
Like he thought I was dimwitted he repeated himself
"I would like you to spell the word Depression it is rather simple"
And now this is where I got to chuckle and say
"Sir, I believe what you are asking is a question I cannot answer, because to me Depression is not a three syllable, 10 letter word. Depression is when my sister comes home to a dead father, and Depression is when my best friend get diagnosed with Cancer. You see to me the Depression you are asking me to spell is the same Depression That gets you laughed out of a hospital. The same Depression that gets you a handful of 'cheer up's' and 'Get over it's.' and maybe even some 'Oh just be happy's' But last I checked when someone has Cancer, we do not tell them to "Just get better" or when someone is sitting in the ER with a cracked skull, we do not tell them to 'Just give it time, you're fine.'"
The boy sitting in front of you could not "just give it time"
When his mother died in his arms
And the girl that you pass through the halls could not "just be happy"
After she had true love ruined for her when some man did not Understand the word "No"
And your dad who calls every sunday cannot "cheer up" because the love of his life has died and his own son does not care to come see him on his birthday
So Sir when you ask me to spell Depression I ask which way because
I spell Depression D-E-A-T-H
and I spell Depression A-L-O-N-E
and I spell Depression S-I-C-K-N-E-S-S
So Sir I spell Depression S-U-F-F-E-R-I-N-G
And I define it as misunderstood for something in ones control/
So do not tell me it is simple to spell and do not tell me I am stupid when I ask in which way you are asking because to me
Depression isn't a simple
Three syllable
Ten letter word
That you use to define those who you do not care to know
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 8:55 PM UTC
The word “identity” has two different meanings:
1. The fact of being who or what a person or thing is.
2. A close similarity or affinity.
I would like to focus on the first meaning.
My identity is based on who I am as a person.
It’s based on the things I do and don’t like.
My identity is based on the clothes I wear.
My identity is based on the way I choose to talk.
My identity is based on my thoughts and opinions.
My identity isn’t based on my Autism or Anxiety.
Some people say they’re identity is their Autism.
And if they’re happy with that, that’s great.
But I was just recently diagnosed with Autism.
And while I have had it my entire life.
I didn’t know anything about it.
I did, however, know that I had anxiety issues.
I’ve had anxiety for a long time, and it’s bad.
I can recognize when an attack is gonna happen.
This isn’t always the case, but a lot of the time, it is.
I know what helps me when I have an anxiety attack.
I have an understanding of what I can and can't handle.
My Autism, on the other hand, is still a mystery to me.
I know that it affects the way I think and learn.
I know it’s the reason for why I am sensitive to temperature.
I know it’s why so had such a hard time in school.
But I refuse to say that my Autism and anxiety identify me as a person.
I have known my personality way long never than both my Autism and anxiety combined.
This isn’t true for everyone, but it is for me.
This is the way I choose to approach my Autism and anxiety.
I’m Autistic, and I’m not ashamed of it.
I have anxiety, and I’m working hard on it.
But I’m not Autism, and I’m not Anxiety.
I’m me.
And I will always stand by this train of thought.
I know that there are times when my interests become my coping skills.
But when I’m not anxious, then they are just my interests.
When I’m having an anxiety attack, then they are the skills I need in order to function.
Right now, this isn’t a coping skill.
My writing this, isn’t a form of therapy.
This is an interest of mine.
I love to write, and was thinking about this, so I decided to speak my mind.
I’m happy to say I’m happy right now.
I don’t feel a bit of stress, and if I do, then one of my interests will be used to help me through it.
Until then, I’m just doing what makes me happy.
And I’m happy that I know myself well to recognize this.
You don’t have to agree with me on anything I just said.
I just ask that you respect that these are my opinions.
I’m an individual who just happens to have Autism and anxiety.
Alright, that’s all I got, I’ve just been in a writing mood over the last few days.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC
I hate myself
No really, I mean it.
I know you don't believe me for how often that I say it
But I'm stuck with my thoughts who claim it.
They tell me I'm not good enough
Too stupid to think
Go ahead grab another drink
and forget who you are cos you know you won't get very far
With this disease that has consumed you.
But this can't be diagnosed
And there's no cure to be found
So go on and tell yourself just how weak you are
Cos it's all in your head
When you say you want to be dead.
They call it self-loathing, and it's the greatest fear I've know
The darkest spots my mind takes me to
Why are all the artists the sad ones?
We feel your pain and then create
While carrying the burden of our own.
I shouldn't have said anything
No one listens to an artist for they have nothing to say
A poet rambles while general discourse fill the spaces
And I am left alone in my head
With the original thought that prompted this piece
I wished I was dead.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
Take me to the hospital
I think im overdosing
I couldn’t take it anymore
Good thing they diagnosed me.
He lied there and cried from those pills
Thought if he died he'd be something real
Scars are not always visible
Beaten with words, never felt so invincible
He’s quiet but, his mind is screaming
Tried to figure it out, life has no meaning
They all say its a phase he'll be better soon.
In reality he never was, now what do they do?
__
Chorus
Nobody takes him seriously
Some kind of conspiracy
When they find out
It will be too late
You cant stop
The constant beating
Of self hate
__
Give him a chance to speak
Give him a break from everything he’s seen.
If no one picks him up
He will forever be in our dreams
No more reality
Life just isn't what it seems
Another pill popper, a maniac, a **** smoker, addicted to crack.
When they’re gone you can't bring them back
The state he’s in its caring he lacks
No one gives him confidence so,
He slacks and he slacks.
No job to pay the bills, just a drug dealing act
You can't make money when you ingest all the profit.
When its too late there's no way to stop it
__
chorus
Nobody takes him seriously
Some kind of conspiracy
When they find out
It will be too late
You cant stop
The constant beating
Of self hate
__
He was too young, and it was too soon.
He can't fix what he already consumed.
Sitting all alone in his room.
He was satisfied.
For that one moment he felt alive.
He said he'd be happier if he died.
Yes we cried but, we all moved on
For people like him, I wrote this song
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
i am tired of talking to adults no i do not want to see a dermatologist or a psychologist or a psychiatrist or a nurse no school counselor i am definitely not having suicidal thoughts and no doctor i do not want to talk about the results of my mental health survey. of course dr. cook i am totally open to the idea of taking an antidepressant dear god i am tired of talking to adults do not want to be diagnosed i do not want to talk about it stop worrying about me, no, 'i am not depressed,' this is my life so thank you for not making me sign a life pact but leave me alone i am not going to cry in front of another strange adult. do not diagnose me. all i want is to be normal, i am tired of the pills. i am done with talking to adults
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
I’ve never truly been diagnosed
But I have some troubles
Some ability to scare the living **** out of myself with my mind every single night
Can never fully sleep without something happening
Shall it be scratching, moaning, pounding on the walls
Shadows, demons, or just my own self getting me
Maybe voices or images, the thought of disasters
A nightmare, body pains, or just my own mind not wanting me to sleep
Pains in my chest that hurt worse with every beat
Or maybe the sense of a presence looking over me
I haven’t got a clue for the cause of these nighttime fiascos
but it’s something every night
The only source of release is when I turn on my phone to see a text from the person I love
And even so, though it feels like a boundaries around me, I know something is out there waiting for me to turn off the lit screen and be face to face with the terrors that keep me awake at night
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 2:12 AM UTC
Selfishness: the quality or condition of being selfish
I've never found a definition
that described me so perfectly
I spend my life
talking about everything I hate
and spreading around negative weight
not even knowing why I wake
and every time I feel just an ounce of selfishness
reality takes it toll on me
and hurts a loved one
why do bad things happen to good people
she's only 24 and is diagnosed
with 4 different cancers
but still manages to find
that reason to smile through the pain
Life has its ways to teach me lessons
but some lessons are more harsh
than others
Selfishness: the quality or condition of being selfish
I've never found a definition
that described me so perfectly
I want to formally say sorry
to everyone who was ever in need
of a life
because I acted like
the life inside of me
was just another branch on a tree
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 7:06 PM UTC
what is luck?
i have a dotted line that i've been trying to fill in for my whole life
diagnosed at nine with a carrying-too-much disease
but i can afford the pills and therapy
from someone else's wallet
but
for how long?
tell me, doctor,
when i'm off my parents' Healthcare Plan,
will you still want to talk to me?
we've built such a great relationship
in the past lord knows how many years of
punching mirrors
kissing porcelain bowls
would you please keep giving me ****** lotion
to smooth out the holes in my brain?
what about the other kids who are dying out in the same crispy sun that doesn't set?
tell me, do you feel the same compassion
for these daughters of dopamine deficiency?
would you hold the hands of thirty year olds
who still fear the monsters under their beds?
you *******
do no harm
and turn a blind eye
and i know it's not your fault
but **** it, Look Me In The Eyes
and tell me
what do you plan to do?
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
I am honest but I lie to myself.
I am vain & I am intolerant.
I am an active advocate of my morals
but I am unsure that they exist.
I am not convinced my friends know me-
I am not convinced that I know me.
Sometimes I laugh all day long
& then I cry myself to sleep.
I worry there are too many thoughts inside my head.
I worry I don’t think enough.
I call myself complex
but I am so simple on Saturdays.
I do not have a favorite anything
nor do I have a soft spot for anyone.
However, all I am is soft on certain Sundays.
I’ve been fearless & I’ve been terrified both on a Friday.
I answer “no” & then do it anyway.
I don’t believe in love but I fall in and out of it
as you think out loud.
I am consumed with emotion.
I am numb.
I like the way the sun feels against my skin
but I sit in the shade.
I am compassionate
& I hate everyone.
I am a wallflower
but I am obnoxious.
I quit smoking months ago
but *** me a cig & watch me inhale it.
I am 8 & I am 18 & I am 80 in an hour.
I cant do math in my mind
but I subtract you from
and add you to the equation twice every week.
I’ll pick you apart for hours
& then tell you that you have weak values.
I am a diagnosed insomniac
but I can sleep from 6am to 6pm on a Monday.
I preach self-love with bleeding wrists.
I will call you in the middle of the night
& then ignore you in the morning.
I am the most clear minded psychopath who ever lived.
I am so incredibly happy & so terribly sad.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 7:37 PM UTC
I'm tired!
I'm tired of everything,
I'm tired of all this world,
I'm tired of everything!
I’m tired of every example,
I'm tired of all the effort,
I'm tired of paying the price,
I'm tired of dying of desire!
I'm tired of being late,
I'm tired of being diagnosed,
I'm tired of being cured,
I'm tired of being censored!
I'm tired of having to explain to me,
I'm tired of having to listen,
I’m tired of all words,
I got tired even of poetry!
I'm tired of still life,
I'm tired of alternative medicine,
I'm tired of rich details,
I'm tired!
I'm tired of daydreaming,
I'm tired of sleeping on the train,
I'm tired of feeling pain,
I'm tired of suffering for love!
I'm tired of everything in this world!
Tired tired!
Tired of living tired,
Tired to exhaustion!
Tired out,
Married…
I married my old coat
With my fatigue.
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 12:57 PM UTC
Dear Hot Straight Actresses,
Stop playing perfect lesbian characters on TV that cause me to become wet on lonely Thursday nights.
It’s the equivalent of waving double chocolate fudge cake in front of a menstruating woman who has just been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.
To name a few,
Jennifer Beals as Bette Porter on The L Word.
Stop it!
Naya Rivera as the sassy Santana Lopez on Glee.
Stop it!
Angie Harmon as butch goddess Detective Jane Rizzoli on Rizzoli & Isles.
You may be in the closet but you are gay and stop!
And Sara Ramirez and Jessica Capshaw as the married ****** Dr. Cali Torrez and Dr. Arizona Robbins of Grey’s Anatomy.
You…you keep going. You two give me hope.
Hope that someday my insanely high expectations will be met when my hot art collecting, sassy mouthed Doctor with handcuffs in her back pocket jumps from the screen and onto my sweatpants covered lap.
In this crazy assumption that I’ll end up falling out of an apple tree letting gravity push me into the arms of a woman who fixes my broken sense of reality with a amazing great hair and a wedding proposal.
Missing out on the
Hot barista who gives me an extra large when I ask for a small
or the
Budding **** artist who invites me to her galleries only to realize her muse has oddly the same hips as me.
or the
Best friend who is still stuck in the shadows of my closet.
Nope…didn’t see any of those.
I’m too busy watching the **** tube to see what low cut tops they can get away with before they leave the set and back to their husband and 2.5 kids.
All I’m asking is…
…when is it coming out on DVD?
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 7:17 AM UTC
When my grandma was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s everyone got really sad,
we couldn’t believe she would forget her family; her husband, me, my dad.
Everything happened so quickly, how could we have known,
that memories were running away from her, there were no signs she had shown.
To indicate that she was leaving us, not in body but in mind,
I didn’t know what was happening until I went to the hospital where she was confined.
Laying there in her hospital bed, with all of us around her,
worried about cooking dinner, she didn’t know where we were.
When I realized what was happening, I just could not believe,
that a few, very short, years later, my grandma would completely leave.
The reason I could not believe this was because she was such a source of love,
I could not understand why she was being punished, by somebody above.
Growing up I had always considered my grandmother to be,
the best woman in the entire world, true love’s epitome.
Every time we would come to the farm, she’d open the door, grinning wide,
and say “I’m so glad to see you all, c’mon let’s go inside!”
The minute you walked through that door, you knew that you were home,
surrounded by love so deep it was tangible and open spaces in which to roam.
The best memories of my childhood center around this place,
and in each one of these memories is my grandma’s smiling face.
Now my grandma sits in a nursing home, unable to respond,
to our pleas for her to come back to us, for her mind has been long gone.
And though this overwhelms me sometimes, because I just don’t think it’s fair,
I know if she was able, she’d tell me not to despair.
For our time together isn’t over, we’ll meet again someday.
Regardless, I know her love for her family will never fade away.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 11:50 AM UTC
"Pray to God. Everything will be all right."
"He'll heal you. I promise."
"Believe in Him and everything will be all right."
I gave up on my belief in God when I was in eighth grade.
I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety.
My family abandoned me.
My grandmother hated me.
My friends thought I was crazy.
And my arms just kept bleeding.
"Pray."
"Believe."
"God is merciful."
"Ask and you shall receive."
And I did.
I did ask.
I asked,
And asked,
And asked.
But nothing ever happened.
I have horrified my grandparents,
My aunts,
My uncles,
My cousins.
I don't believe.
And they think I'm going to go to Hell for that.
Too late, I think.
I am in Hell.
The depression tears away at my insides,
Leaving me a lifeless,
Empty
Husk.
It scars my arms with its sharp fingernails,
And drives my friends and family away from me.
"Oh, just pray to God;
He'll heal you."
I don't believe in God.
There is no God.
There is only a fanciful imagination.
Humans are so desperate to have something to believe in,
Something that is bigger than themselves.
So they created "God",
An all-mighty being
Who punishes the Wicked
And rewards the Good.
And so they have something.
And they create rules to live by,
So they become the Good
When in reality
They are the Wicked.
There is no God.
They say He is merciful.
They say He is kind.
They say He loves all humans equally.
That's a lie.
If there is such a thing as "God",
He sure doesn't like me.
He has given me a life
That is pure torture.
He has punished me for something I never did.
He has created the ultimate prison
For someone who used to follow him so devoutly.
And what about the others?
They say God gives no trial
That His followers can't handle.
So what about those that commit suicide,
*Because they couldn't handle it.
Because they couldn't take it anymore.
Because it was too much?*
But God is good to the rich.
He showers them with more riches
And more happiness
And more joy.
He gives them everything they could ever want.
Only the happy
And well-off
And rich
Believe in God.
If there is such a thing as God,
He is the God of the Rich.
He is the God of the Fortunate.
He is not the God of the Unhappy.
He is not the God of the Poor.
He isn't my God.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 12:09 PM UTC
The professor said
"Family therapy is like a Pie Graph
Everyone in the family contributes their own piece of pie.
When people leave
there's a chunk of pie missing
and the other members of the family
have to take on some of those roles to fill the pie."
Here's my theory:
Everyone in the family has their own whole pie.
Categorizes each housemate as a piece of it.
how they view them in their family.
how they relate to them,
Imagine a home
Mom and her four daughters.
Step dad, his daughter and son.
imagine three bedrooms.
The adults taking up one of them.
let's look at the Mother,
Her four daughters
all with different fathers
she knows how to raise children.
The daughters all know how to
Be
Children, be
Sisters, be
older or younger than each other.
The step-father knows how to have
A Wife,
One Daughter,
A Son.
Well Step-brother leaves the house.
Susie has a child at fifteen.
what does
her pie look like now?
She used to have a boyfriend,
four sisters,
a mother, father.
Now lost a brother
gained a baby.
She only knows how to be a child.
let's look at the mother.
She hasn't learned: Grandchild
but she knows how to raise a baby.
lets look at the step-father, lost his son, gained four daughters,
what's another one?
The sisters, lost their brother, a role model.
Exchanged for this this new baby.
another sister?
everyone's pie is empty in some parts.
judging by some other
dead white guys theory
when who you are doesn't line up
with who you see yourself as,
that's when people develop
Mental illness
Well I wouldn't call it ill, but let's count the bruises.
That baby is going to grow up as her mother's sister.
Suzie is going to seek the comfort of men.
Her sisters are going to constantly fight between calling themselves auntie
and Big Sis.
like tossing themselves on either side of the barbed wire fence is cause for death.
The farther we go back in each family member's backstory
the more slivers of pie we find
Georgia has autism,
Carley diagnosed depression,
Rosie an abusive relationship of 10 years.
Clover is quiet.
The Brother, schizophrenic, autistic, bipolar.
Any number of names they can slap on him.
He doesn't live there anyhow.
isn't human.
Muffle the sister that says she miss him.
hit her, cut her, lock her up.
This was a case study.
I lived with this family for four years.
unintentionally filled up parts of their pie.
I was Son.
Older brother.
Boyfriend.
Father.
When I stopped being a fly on the wall
Stopped seeing how their story was developing.
I didn't have any pie left.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
Sick
Painful
Congested
Sinus Pressure
Up all night coughing
Losing sleep til morning
Next day many body aches
Off to Urgent Care I go
Ear infection diagnosed
On antibiotics
Going home to rest
Feeling better
Coughing less
Smiling
Well
~Miguel
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 7:36 PM UTC
I miss my first love
like a train I was supposed to catch years ago
I've made my home on the station platform
because now I'd rather just watch the trains go by
I miss my first love
like an appointment with a doctor
that could have diagnosed me with the early stages of loneliness
and cured me right then and there
instead the illness settled in
and every day I'm treating the symptoms while I search for a cure
I miss my fist love
like the bullseye on a dart board
I don't even feel like playing the game anymore
and my throws are getting more and more wild
getting stuck in the wall and the floor
I miss my first love
and the way I loved when I didn't know what love was
no tricks, no strategies
just me, and her, and whatever that was when we were
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
If you give a wishing stone,
she'll travel out all on her own.
She'll leave behind the fear and pain,
and keep herself from going insane.
While her friends are getting diagnosed,
she'll be somewhere in her boat.
Maybe she'll have tea for two,
but at least she'll know what to do.
And they may ask, and plead, and beg to be in her world,
but she'll certainly say,
"Be gone, be gone, or off with your head."
Which should be said, since they cursed her be dead.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
she'll truly feel all alone,
and for those who never cared "be gone!"
The queen has finally sang her song.
She was never a fool, just a withered small bud,
and those pigs would throw her around in the mud.
So sure she dreams and dazes off,
but she can do whatever she wants.
She earned a bit of recognition,
for all antagonize and inhibition.
Give that girl some cheer,
she fought a war for all those years.
Stop the hate for her being crushed,
unlike some, she had no love!
The glass shattered hard,
it's no surprised it became shards.
Giving time and yells,
doesn't heal, it kills.
If you give a girl a wishing stone,
you've given her one happiness finally of her own.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
I write poetry and my hands shake a lot. I'm the product of a 15 year old drug addict and a 20 sum year old college drop out. I was born into a family who normalized **** Now I'm an 18 year old coming to terms with childhood abuse and abandonment fear. Recently diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, something I'm not sure I'll ever over come.
So this is me. A high school drop out, unemployed, battling all forms of addiction, at war with too many demons.
Craving an up.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
In all our haunted houses
Are ghosts just wrapped in sheets
And the vampires and werewolves
Havent been seen in weeks
We diagnosed the children
Who heard voices in their rooms
Now all they do is paint the walls
In crayola crayon hues
And the monsters under our stairs and beds
Seek refuge in our closets
As we boiled imagination down
To vibrations in quartz deposits
Jun 20, 2011
Jun 20, 2011 at 8:40 AM UTC
Once imperialism is diagnosed
what does healing look like?
Beyond the tally of those killed
and the killers of them
What was our thinking process
while these things happen?
What do the senses require
for humans to function
within imperialism?
How to establish a dialogue
paranoia and a dialogue forbidden
Understanding spirituality near imperialism
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 2:26 PM UTC
Nanu, I had a dream last night that you came back
From being gone almost 3 years
We embraced and I told you I missed you so much
It was bittersweet, really.
I had seen you, and then you disappeared.
Like a shadow, when the sun decides to sleep.
I could've slept eternally knowing I would've been with you; forever
I remember when you were first diagnosed with lung cancer.
You held a smooth stone and told me, "Emily this stone is going to heal me one day."
You told me how it would make you better.
I remember one thanksgiving you gave me a glass of your wine
It was, bittersweet.
Vinegary as it ate away my tastebuds
Sweet like strawberries marinading in sugar, only.. Wine is made out of grapes... You taught me that.
Its funny, you used to let me sit upon your lap when you mowed the lawn, it was my own mistake for crashing it into the fence.
It was, bittersweet.
I got to drive a lawn mower and you had to fix the fence.
I look back to how happy you were on the sun porch in the summer heat, especially when lightening would strike the area around us,
I'd hide my face in your tarnished sweater
It was, bittersweet.
This morning I stood in the snow
Weeping as I stared at the sky,
Then I remembered, you didn't disappear, you just went on vacation for awhile.
It's bittersweet, really.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
In March of 2010 a 46 year old white male was brought to this hospital after a severe 'episode'. He was placed in the Mental Health Intensive Care Unit . He was diagnosed with " Major Depression ". This is considered Slow Death , a treatable disorder by the AMA currently . Artist and Architect will lay out Hallucinations and conceptual designs , Engineers , Mathematicians and Surveyors will coordinate more pills at higher doses because minute details to within fractions of an inch followed by schizophrenia by Earth moving equipment , graders , bulldozers , psychotic episodes , dump trucks , Carpenters and Concrete , bi-polar disorder and Bricklayer will labor different Help treatment methods because the drugs are having absolutely no piece by piece constructing form , pylon , shoring embankments for Steel Worker and Welder ,Pipefitter and Increased risk of suicide was reported for Plumber and all manner of tradesman , supplier and Pharmacist ........
Psychiatrist and Psychologist will formulate a treatment plan which will include drug therapy and counseling sessions with Electrician and patient and Spouse plus other family members if needed in order to reach the island Drowning which will be a difficult task . Emory Hospital is conducting new research because they finally admit to depression drugs not working in Freak more than half the patients today , like every other building bridges in hopes of getting to the island that is depression .
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC