I want to draw

I want to draw
But not on this paper
I want to draw
But not with this pen
I want to draw
Dark red lines with this razor
I want to draw
Upon my skin

Forgotten

Within pins and needles I've made my bed

To rest the thoughts that surround me

Because truth is a dagger that I must swallow

My reflection shows acid puddle within my eyes

This fortress I've built begins to crumble

Once it protected me from the pains of being forgotten

Yet, it's too much too soon too lost too disdain

Crimson puffs out my cheeks

As ocean water drops drip down my temples

And with a quiver my lips weaken

Release the dagger to relieve the pain

For being forgotten is a painful poison to swallow

Allow the acid to burn my face as the dams break

The swiftness of my hand proven

As shattered glass covers the floor

And pieces that are left 

Show the brokenness of my heart

2 Poems

DANSE MACABRE

Decorated in frail stitches and fading scars

Lucidity, tranquility, fluidity of peace

In search of uncovering the perfect stone

For somewhere someone has hidden the key

Leaping with the strength of a grand jete

Tumbling to inhale the the dirt and gravel

Scraped and tattered feigning contentment

A smile, a bow, a 6 foot plan and shovel

Just as quick as a rose will perish on stage

So does the serenity of the innocents

The weight of years of Confucius' confusions 

Will warp the mind into nonsensical nonsense

Drowning in the vastness of salted waters

This tub filled to the brim by my own eyes

Crimson showers cleanse this future

But not everyone that bleeds will ultimately die

So a wish that has no ending

A prayer that has no words

Seeking solace in the numbness

All the while the world still turns

RIVER 
I try to walk with faith, but so much I hesistate
Knowing that You're near me, makes me feel safe
But my greatest enemy, is she who lies inside
Lying lies upon me, playing with my mind

And river runs dry and my eyes and head ache
White waters in my heart, focusing on mistakes
Peaceful calming ocean, but puddles are all I find
Living nightmares before me that I thought I left behind

Angels, I hear singing, in chorus to uplift me
But doubts shackle to my ankles won't let it be
So hear I kneel before Him, with my tears to sacrifice
But nothing I have to offer will ever suffice

For His mercy is unending, His grace a gift indeed
If I got what I deserved, how devastated would I be
Mountains moved I witnessed, yet I still cry
Your loving arms embrace me, until the river runs dry

the Crash

Decompensation

Exotic fulfillment engulfed in wildfires
Smiles across the sun burnt skies
The greater the height we fly higher
Until the chill of reality settles in

And we begin to plummet down
Far into the earth's ground
Until silence is the only sound
That our ears become akin

And the darkness it holds us
Paranoia breaks our trust
Into death's abyss we're thrust
And all we want is out of this skin

Can't Sleep

sweet dreams, with eyes wide open

the darkness of skies and the world dead

thoughts continue to pry of what can happen

and full blown conversations in my head

who do you speak to?

I speak to myself.

who answers your questions?

I have yet to figure it out

Who do you speak to?

I speak to myself

who answers your questions?

demons no doubt

Collided words, explosive disasters

hurricane winds messing with my mind

plethora of plans of said risky behavior

voices they comment with words so unkind

Another Morning

I'm trying to pay more attention to my mood lately.  I still feel numb in that I can't cry if you paid me to.  I can laugh a bit more easily though.  It's confusing if nothing else.  Am I laughing or am I having spurts of hypomania? I can say with certainty that I am feeling depressed, I just don't have the physical effects of being depressed.  I can still laugh at things my kids do and I'm not so quick to be annoyed.  I guess it's safe to say I feel a bit melancholic.  I'm sad.  My baseline right now is sad.

I want to drink.  I want to run wild and crazy and scream and shout and laugh myself into hysteria!  But I've been told that's not normal and I already know it's not socially acceptable.  I miss being hyper, or rather manic.  It feels so great.  I remember wanting to go out and party and hang out with friends.  To be social and friendly, sometimes too friendly.  Apparently that is what happens with people with bipolar disorder.  They miss the manic episodes.  If I could bottle it up I'd make millions.  I think it's already called Ecstasy though.

I self medicated a lot in college. Always looking for that perfect high.  That high I felt when I was manic.  Thankfully, I never found it or I'd probably be an addict a well.

Tidbits of Memory

I can't recall when my first manic episode was because I've always the "hyper" type.  I do remember randomly wanting to go cruising with my best friend at the wheel while I hung out the car window yelling at unsuspecting people on the street.  I remember being to riled up on the inside. Like I was just waiting to burst into pieces if I didn't start yelling at people.  My friends thought nothing of it. I was always weird.  I remember having so much energy I would decide to gear up and just run around my block a few dozen times.  The neighborhood kids never thought twice.

I remember all too well my depressive episodes.  I remember being 16 and at home and wanting to hurt myself.  I took the blade out of my razor.  I cut my wrist.  I watched the blood pour out and just sat there waiting fir my blood to clot.  Once it did, I wrapped it up and carried on as usual.  The next time wasn't so neat.  A few weeks later I took the same razor and began slashing away at my left forearm.  Borderline Personality much?  I was tired.  My whole world felt as though it was crumbling into little pieces and I was trying so hard to keep it together.  I had no reason to be depressed, but I wanted it to end.

The next day, first thing in the morning, I showed two friends.  They didn't hesitate to take me to the counselor.  My counselor called my mom.  My mom took me to a therapist.  My therapist mentioned something about manic depression.  I remember crying a lot and then being dead silent towards him.  Therapy lasted a few months and that was all that was done.  I began self medicating with weed. If I was high, I was allowed to feel happy, or at least not sad.

I wasn't feeling so depressed anymore.  Matter of fact, I was feeling exuberant! At school especially.  I was back to bouncing off walls and going to bed late and waking up early.  Sleep shmeep!  Other times, I kept to myself.  That was the cycle at school and life.  When I was manic, others just saw me as being hyper; when I was depressed, I just kept to myself.  

Family Affair

I'm sorry, but I can't stand people who walk around they have bipolar disorder; or that they think they are schizophrenic.  Both those diseases run in my family and there is nothing fun about them.  They are scary when you see someone one day perfectly fine and the next day the entire family is holding a vigil because they have become catatonic.  It's funny because I remember clearly being at my grandmother's house in Puerto Rico and my uncle just sitting in the rocking chair that was on the front porch.  From the couch I could peek through the front door and see him just sit there, completely unaware of the people around him.
"He's in space," my mother reassured me.  Instead of making me calm about what was going on, it just made me more confused.  How could he be in space while sitting on the front porch.  My mom would call his name.  No response.  His older brother would call his name.  Nothing.  My grandmother would sit their crying asking him to please respond, but his mother's tears meant nothing to him.

I'm pretty sure that my uncle is either bipolar or schizophrenic.  I don't know the details but I do know once he snapped and threatened his kids' friends with a knife to get out of his house.  It was late and he had to work early, needless to say, a knife was a bit much; especially given his size at the time.  He was always a strong and in shape.

 He had, what I believe to be, paranoid delusions.  I asked my mom about his behavior and she told me that he swore up and down that when he was in the army he was being persecuted for being of darker complexion.  He attacked a commanding officer because supposedly he was talking trash about my grandmother.  The way my mom made it sound, not that she meant for it, was that he was very paranoid about those outside his family.

From all I gather, he sounds to be more schizophrenic, paranoid type, schizoaffective, which is schizophrenia with a mood disorder, or bipolar with paranoid delusions.  I wish I knew more about the details about him.  I was friends with him on facebook and he deleted me.  Never thought being deleted on facebook would hurt so much.  It just seemed so callous.  It was such a Borderline thing to do.

He deleted me after I got into a fight with my aunt.  It was none of his business and not even that big of a deal, but he deleted me.  I refuse to ask how he's doing now. It may be childish, but hey, it must run in the family.

Favor

Sometimes I look like I dont give a damn
These times of disinterest, I need your hand
Because ghost arent all that can haunt me at night
My past it chokes me til I can see heaven's light

And I'm screaming the tears away
Can no one see my anguish and pain
Selfishly thinking I'm pouring out
Just to seek attention, they've no doubt
And I'm screaming the tears away
Clawing at myself trying to numb the pain

You use the eyes of an outsider
Never question what's wrong inside her
She does it to herself, self inflicting the burn
Attention seeking they say, so no heads turn

Opened my eyes in time to realize
Most are as lost, if not worse off than me
Sometimes I wonder I must have found favor
To have made it a midst all these razors

And I'm screaming the tears away
Can no one see my anguish and pain
Selfishly thinking I'm pouring out
Just to seek attention, they've no doubt
And I'm screaming the tears away
Clawing at myself trying to numb the pain

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¡Anímate!

That is my mother's solution to my depression, get motivated. Its as pointless as telling someone with aortic stenosis to stop getting dizzy. She means well I am sure, I just wish she had a clue. I wish I didn't get so pissed off at her. I have to keep reminding myself that she means well, and that is not am easy thing to do.

I am sitting on the swing that is in the back porch, blogging from my phone. I wish I had something poignant to say, but in all honesty I just feel empty, guilty, and a bit bitter. I see people around me get through ups and downs and not have much change in their life. They do not have to deal with the regret of their thouht content. They probably do not even know that there is content separate from their thoughts.

Are you currently suicidal? No. Have you recently? That is not an easy question to answer. You see, I'm never suicidal, but I think of my death quite often. I will state time and time again, if it were not for my kids and my fear of what my death would do to them, I would have attempted it by now.

My four angels, my reason for living. My babies. And, as life would have it, I've become quite attached to my hubby. It took a long time for me to believe that he loves me, and now that I do, he gets put into the equation of guilt as well. My parents I'm sure would feel horrible if I were to die, but I can't say I really care. Its good for them that I grew up fearing death more than life. Maybe I have developed Borderline PD.

I was not always like this, you know. I was a happy kid, or so I've been told. Pictures don't lie; then again its just a snapshot of a single moment. I was pretty aware of myself as being an individual at a very young age. I can only assume that I could have easily lied to a camera with a simple "cheese."

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In the Shower

Overly sensitive? Possibly.  Lately people's comments to my stuff on facebook was as bad as being stabbed in the trachea with a red hot blade.  Why?  I know why, but whatever.  Not posting on facebook is my own way of self harm I guess.  Kind of like when an inmate refuses to take their insulin because they're pissed at a CO.  They're not hurting anyone, but it gives a sense of control of sorts.  I wish I wasn't so scared to write my unfiltered thoughts.  The thoughts I have when I'm screaming and crying in the shower.  The thoughts I have when I fantasize about my razor.  Yeah, those thoughts.  It's not a cry for help.  I write because I can only listen to my voices for so long.  If I'm dictating to myself at least everything is more controlled.  The thoughts aren't so left field and the end product doesn't leave me feeling as guilty.

I wonder what people think of me.  She writes to get attention, all she wants is attention.  Maybe that's true, then again, maybe they can just go fuck themselves.

I can't afford to dress my kids up for Halloween and it sucks.  I feel even worse because I know hubby feels ever worse about it.  You see how easily I can go into a cycle?  I have an appointment today with a new doctor today.  I'm hoping just get all the bullshit straightened out in my head.  Even if it does mean taking more or new meds.  I hate how I feel on them, but at least I can function.  And at least I can look at my kids without crying or yelling.  If chemical restraints are what is necessary to be a "healthy" mom for my kids, then so be it.

I should also say goodbye.  Once I start on meds again, the writing has a tendency to slow down if not stop entirely.  

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I Sing

All these recordings, Playing in my head
All these recordings, Wishing me dead

All of these voices, Trampling my mind
All of these voices, Words so unkind


I sing of suicide
I sing of mental death
I sing of anxieties
I sing of a life depressed

I can sing of all the anguish that my life brings me down
I'm walking across the stage, waiting for the water to drown

all of these souls
all of them grieve
hear them clearly
as I breathe

Chances gone
never to be found
Nothing but this darkness
is what surrounds

I sing of suicide
I sing of a mental death
I sing of anxieties
Of the ghosts that keep me depressed

All these recorded, thoughts float inside
All these years, but the cure did subside
Take these pills, swallow them whole
Just to be normal, here and at home

Flying Drum

This is My Story, For You

Today was very difficult for me.  A woman came at lunch to speak about domestic violence and it took every ounce of my being to not break down and cry in front of everyone.  It's been over 3 years since I got out, but I'm still haunted by the feelings of fear and inadequacy.  I survived almost 7 years of being in an abusive relationship.  I thought I got out unscathed.  Anytime someone talks about women getting hurt by someone that they are supposed to trust, I break down into tears.  I still have flashbacks of his open hand, of looking in the mirror wondering "will that leave a bruise?"  Wondering, maybe he'll get into a car accident and die today.  I prayed for him to die so I could escape.  I can see how murder seems to be the only way out for some women.  You really pent up a lot of anger and hate towards someone that is supposed to care about you.

My oldest was 4 months old when he first hit me, the yelling and screaming was a daily occurrence by then.  He laughed saying I walked into his closed fist. I WALKED INTO A CLOSED FIST!  And I was in shock. I actually let myself believe that that was what happened.  I felt so ashamed that I ostracized myself from my closest friends.  I didn't know if they saw what he did to me, but I was so scared that they would find out that I was ALLOWING someone to treat me like garbage.  So I stopped hanging out.  Then I started to wonder if anyone even cared.  Why did no one SAY anything?  Was I hiding the abuse that well?

And yes, it did go get to the point that I knew it was abuse, but I was terrified of leaving.  HE'D KILL ME if I ever left.  He threatened any guy I spoke to.  He accused me of trying to hook up with guys behind his back.  And I made up excuse after excuse and convinced myself, if I PRAY HARDER then God will change him.  So I prayed, and prayed and prayed for God to change him.  And I thought that staying would be a testament to my faith.

I was FOOLED.  I was BRAINWASHED. I was TERRIFIED.  Even after I was taken to the hospital and my sweet innocent children saw me with a bloody nose, I tried to make it work out.  And finally I realized that all the praying I was doing for change - it happened.  I CHANGED.  I decided come hell or high water, let him try and kill me if that was what was going to happen.  I WAS DONE.  No more slapping me until I was covered in black and blue.  No more throwing me down the stairs.  No more pinning me down. NO MORE.

Knowing now what it feels like to be in a great relationship where I'm loved and respected makes me even angrier that I allowed anyone to control me the way that I allowed for in the past.  It angers me to the nth degree when I see people that I love and care about be in a relationship that is so similar to what I went through.  To hear the stories that he hit her, he picked her up by her neck, he threatens her, I just want to kidnap them away!  When I cry from the flashbacks, the tears I shed are for them also.  THE TEARS I CRY ARE FOR YOU! If you're reading this, and you think I'm talking about you - I AM.  Get out, GET OUT!

There is someone that God has for you that will treat YOU LIKE A QUEEN! That would never fathom to raise their voice or hand at you.  That would never insult you, threaten you, or make you feel worthless.  GET OUT while you have a chance.  Don't let the fantasy he feeds fool you like it fooled me for so long.  A real man will not PROMISE you a fantasy, a real man will PROVE it to you.

Out of Coma into Nightmare

These are the days that most suck because its when I realize that the only reason I am sane most days is because I'm being medicated.  I ran out of one and stopped another pill.  I want to cry myself into nothingness right now. I don't care about anything else other than my head won't stop spinning and I don't fit into these clothes.  I'm overweight and can't stop thinking about when it all just went downhill.  There was no set anniversary date.  It all just seemed to creep up on me.  The only benefit of not being on any meds right now is that i'm writing and feeling every word that I type.  I'm out of my coma................but what kind of life is this?  Which is the lesser of two evils?  To live with a fake smile to get through each day meanwhile being comatosed, or to be sincerely sad and want the world to stop spinning?  I love them I do, but I am useless to them in this form. I'm useless and nearing the brink of hopeless as well.  I don't want to cry, but I can't help it.  I haven't cried in months.  I haven't felt emotions in months.  I'm back to awake, but the nightmare has just begun.  

In A Box

Stored away is the vast world we once knew

Trying to salvage that time in our youth

Where we didn't dream because life was grand

And sleep was just for the weary at hand

Where water had their magick ways

And we'd dance night into days

And despite all our illnesses

We had no use for their medicines

While they looked in, we looked out

We could walk on wind, we had no doubt

There were never rules but endless truths

In the garden, where Adam never ate Eve's fruit

The smoke we exhaled cleared our eyes

The sand helped welcome each sunrise

Barefoot we each paved the road

Hand in hand we would tread home

And though memories seem a bit askew

That was the life that I once knew

Through fanfares, ballads, and suicides

The past is who I'm left to hide

Each pill swallowed, is a memory erased

Each bottle thrown away, is time replaced

The smiles I own are manufactured

And how I crave to hear their laughter

Blessed Beyond Measure

I'd count my blessings, but there'd be no time
Enough allowed to count them all
I'd show you my fortunes, but you'd need the eyes
To see not what the world gives worth

Because I'm..

Blessed beyond measures
Nothing I own
Compares to the love
That I've been shown
Because the Lord's forgiven
Through His story known
That He pured us of sin
In Him we've grown

Swallowing Normalcy

My thoughts are under arrest

Found guilty on all charges

Due to my plea of insanity

Imprisoned in their own home

To chaotically bounce off walls

Never to be allowed out

Each swallow of a pill

Is a reminder

of the true cost of normal

Innocents

She smiles blankly at the sky

Not understanding why people wish to die

When the sun is shining and there's a nice breeze

Why leave earth without a disease?

She smiles at me with that same blank stare

Not knowing I have thoughts I'll never share

She thinks that with a hug all can be healed

So I smile kindly and let her believe

That dreams are full of rainbows and unicorns

and that nightmares are as rare as a leprechaun

That Santa brings toys at Christmas

And that parents stay together forever

That everyone scores straight As

And that no one is teased for being different

That the tooth fairy left her the money

And that innocence can never be destroyed

Her world is perfect

Her world is serene

Who am I to damage

A life so pristine?

I'm on clearance

I am restlessly searching for the person everyone sees in me
I'm praying for half the faith they have in me or so it seems
Because everyday it gets harder for me to see
this fantastic person they say resides within me

I am not trying to sell myself short, but I do feel like I'm on clearance

I wake up in the morning
Wondering why has God brought me to another day
I can't sleep at night
For fear of my own thoughts
of negativity
and self hate

I don't want to be this way,
screw the fountain of youth
I'm looking for the fountain of truth
Tell me why am I here
When everyday I want to crawl out of this skin.