What does it mean to have bipolar disorder?
I was diagnosed with Bipolar I in college. After a clear manic episode while going to Temple University, a psychiatrist working on the campus prescribed me a mood stabilizer, along with the depression and anti-anxiety medications I was already taking.
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I can write a poem about love
I can tell her how much I love her
But can I show it?
Can I be there in the dark nights?
Love is more than words on paper
And the vows we have shared
Need to be stronger than the storms of life
It is in these moments
When the road is long and blurry
And the weight gets heavier
That the authenticity of my love
Needs to go beyond mere words in a poem
The lines on the highway get blurry when you’re driving for so long. Pete was used to this; he’d stop at whatever town seemed appealing to him. He usually picked where he stopped based on the name of the town. He didn’t know much about these small hamlets throughout the states, nor did he want to. Usually, the smaller and quieter the town, the better for Pete.
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Reaping what we sow
Heat gathers underneath
Phantom ground below
Highway tears, pleas
Sickness, rain through the trees
Awakened in a place named redemption
Heard the words of our fathers
Sticky, sour and aggressive
A hush, a murmur
Emotionless kisses
Lines between this world and the next
Open, pull us in
We have a choice to return
Hardened hands on the mantlepiece
Yellow eyeballs, blue lips
Let my people rest, sing for them
Who is that person there behaving erratically?
Why doesn’t he get his act together?
Who is that pathetic man staring at me in the mirror?
Why doesn’t he learn to act normal?
Why can’t they just get a job?
Why are they mooching on the rest of society?
Why can’t they pull themselves up by the bootstraps?
Why can’t they become investment bankers like you?
Why can’t they act out the fantasy lives of social media influencers?
Who is that woman in the psychiatric unit, the one with the scars on her wrist and sad smile and the far-away look in her eyes?
Why can’t she pull herself together?
Who is that man who committed suicide last week, hung himself in the basement and left a note saying how sorry he was?
Didn’t he know the pain he would cause others?
Why can’t they all just toughen up?
Don’t they know this world is divided into winners and losers?
Don’t they know compassion and equality is for whiny liberals?
Don’t they know that the world is mean?
Don’t they know?
Grasping in the dark and there are no meanings here
I have lost all that; a door closed and trapped now
What caused this to happen? When did it all get so dark?
I am no different than anyone else with his share of heartache
My story is not especially sad, but perhaps my brain is broken
Creativity flows forth, and that’s when I sense a lightness
But under the skin, all I see is the muck and grime
I read about what we do to each other – all those crimes
And now all I see is the grief of the world
I write it down and release the bitterness
But nothing seems beautiful like it used to be
Only the plastic sheen of a pornographic culture
Will my God turn on the light in this dark room?
The only thing I do in these moments is hold on to a stupid hope
Each day more of my innocence is lost
Until even the most beautiful sunset seems like desktop wallpaper
But the stupid hope remains, a mustard seed
And I hope it will grow again one day
Hunger burn fire
Lightning in my soul
A time for dying and living
Crush the skull of the skeleton
Grind it into blood wounds
And be born again, in darkness
Time frozen in the universe’s belly
Insects descend upon the castles
Feast on corpse-lovers and decay-queens
Let me have this final chance to say
That there’s no going back
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