For me writing about my mental disorders help let me create a collection of data almost of my ups and downs, also letting me conclude complex rantings in my head into more simple verses of my emotional stresses. I feel my poems are little psychological philosophies that help create my life into meaning.
Granting the the frantic manic panic attacks -so the earth is good at what is does. Two things together are one. Doesn't matter -doesn't it matter? It doesn't matter. Never contriving wanting knowing. The earth is only still once in time before you start going at it, at arms' up. In womb -in mother, before you start to die.
There was a time one Holiday in Muskegon. Car ride. Compass center windshield. Pallet pouring a rain pour. Highway overpass's. No center dividers. Sideway highway trees there for adoption. Grandma, in passenger seat Grandpa driving. Back seat, first big brother left seat. Second big brother right side. Little girl in the middle. Answer. Answer. You don't answer. They talk. You wont talk. It is o.k. They will know another day.. Your forward is not their forward. Walking. They walk. It is all the same. Decreasing energy is not an answer. Increasing energy is not an answer. Nothing is an answer. It is all the same. It is all the same energy going forward motion.
Sky fade to black. Specks of hungry light unite intent tree tops bending minds. Staple tree. Ti tree. Falling from the sky . Trip to hospital but no ambulance. Doctors stitch the forehead. Blow up surgical glove to make lips smirk a hint of non fear. But fear. Pain. Fear. Iniquity. Blood. What happen? Nurse really is comforting. Bless this nurse what is her name. She speaks of friends, Like the one she asked about, Carrie. Soothing, leading, courting young motivational motion.
In Grammar school she was uncomfortable to look at her own cloths. Disheveled leaves align the floor ground . And unable to count. Only small counts until she hits the number Twelve. Twelve-teen. Thirteen-teen. Fifteen. Four teen-teen. On the swing. On and on she goes. Six-ix-ix-teen, seven-ixteen... Back and forth. Up and down. High equilibrium to the earths ground then up high again. Up level up. Come down go to school.
Then at night, later evening. A natural sleep over with Jaci, went out for a bowl of ice cream, then heard the kitten, stolen, screaming. Kitty. Kitty. Stupid cat. Orange tabby stick its head trough the open hole in the door of the closet. Take the door off the roll track. Dad called home to saw a slit for the nose. Kitty rescued. Orange tabby intoxicated by poison one day, one bad day. People fucked up. Exterminators. She happened ignorant. Happen. Happened.
Another one vacation, lot's of vacations, parent never selfish. Yawing dust. Exhausting dusky City streets. Pick-up-truck. Cabin. Stuck. Unstuck in a world. Weird -weird -world. What is this place? Exhaled exhausted over and over again, doesn't' matter, what ever, why oh why does it go like this? What is this? Venting coast to the East. Heading North. Bean bags. First bean bag, big brother Red, his favorite color. Second bean bag, big brother Blue, his favorite color. Third bean bag, little sister Yellow, her favorite color, before she realizes her insides are black. The Blue truck's navigator is Mom . Blue truck's driver is Dad. Children bundled loose in the blue trucks' cabin.
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