“You haven’t met the right guy.”
“How’d you know you don’t like it,
If you have never tried it?”
“Sexuality is fluid.”
“Everyone’s a little bit gay.”
“You weren’t born like that.”
“Someone must have hurt you.”
“But I could turn you straight.”
Continue reading ““You Don’t Look Like a Lesbian””
Ever since I held my pain,
Twisting it to poetry,
I have never been the same…
Expressive arts therapy,
“Sorry, that doesn’t sound real.”
Writing poetry about illness,
A silliness with nothing to lose.
Continue reading “Pain into Poetry”
Over stimulating keeps you running,
Free time congregates over-thinking.
You would rather drag the deadweight,
Than exist part of the moment.
Even when running on empty,
Where there’s nothing left to carry.
Continue reading “Time’s Up”
No one answers the question:
How are humans supposed to feel?
Begging the follow-up inquiry:
Do all mental states possess illness(es)?
Continue reading “We’re All Mad Here”
Not ev’ry tree is covered,
Only the brave show themselves.
Entering stage four of their cycle,
Preceding the peak bloom of tourists.
A cloud of blossoms lasts but days,
To return anew a year later.
Continue reading “First Bloom of Spring”
Nearing the final level,
A coinless Sonic is hit,
No lives left to revive him. . .
Yes / No
Continue reading “Game Over. Start Over? | Living with Bipolar”
Just work your life away,
What is the harm in that?
Who has time for self-care,
When you can make money?
Continue reading “Running on Empty | Living with Bipolar”
A poem began to form as I fell asleep,
I was too exhausted to write it down,
Instead it ebbed and flowed on by.
Even as unconsciousness took me,
I tried to grasp onto the stanzas,
While they withdrew inside the vault.
Continue reading “No Poem November”
You can feel the history,
It surrounds at ev’ry turn,
All starting with simple words,
Not a popular nickname,
Yet it truthfully remains,
As words cover The District,
Continue reading ““The City of Words””
Wonder if I truly need them,
Ponder what changes due to them,
Fonder each day passes without them,
Absconder each night staring at them.
Continue reading “Medicated | Living with Bipolar 2”