• Life,  Poetry,  Writing

    What Dreams May Come…

    It seems my words may be coming back. I woke up crying from a dream I don’t remember and the first four lines of this in my head. After  ten continuing minutes, and ultimate uselessness in trying to go back to sleep, the grinding gears inside my head refused to shut up, so up I got and you are the lucky recipient of something new. I don’t know what it was that upset me in the dream but I still feel as if I’ve suffered a loss. Just so you know, everything is otherwise fine here at Chez Lunatic. But I am definitely going to stop snacking close to bedtime.…

  • Poetry

    What Is Written Beneath the Skin

    The Bone Writers By Jesi Scott   All you see is what you think I am, No more than that. And you think I don’t understand So you talk of things in front of me   Never knowing I hear what you say And understand what you don’t, The invisible mask you think you wear Reflected only too clearly   To those who see you as you really are. We live through each other, A ripple effect with pebbles Thrown from ghosts in the shadows,   Lives entwined into a miasma, Tangled ribbons, Where I begin and you end, My face on your mask,   Both of us on display…

  • Poetry

    Her Dark Friend

    For my girl, interrupted (you know who you are) That Way Lies Madness By Jesi Scott   She cuts to bleed the pain out Because it hurts too much to keep in her flesh-covered prison- Some souls were never meant to bear such weight; her mind betrays and kidnaps her emotions, holds them hostage to its irrational musings (you’re horrible, no one likes you really, you’re a piece of shit, a fraud, you bring disaster to everyone you meet, no one would like you if they really knew you)   And the voices of reason, hope, and love Are hard to hear over the seductive words the terrorist whispers to…

  • Poetry

    Prisoner of War

    Prisoner of War By Jesi Scott Would that I could turn my anguish into clouds, Then ask the wind to blow it away. This pain tears, and rakes its claws through my tortured brain, My skin cracked and bleeding, My already once sewn-up heart ripped again at the seams. And it’s more than I can bear, Beaten and broken, I cower at your feet. I cry mercy, please, what have I done? Satiate yourself on my weakness- I surrender- Take your pleasure in knowing you win.   Oh god, I am not strong enough for this- Anesthetize me so I don’t have to feel this torment; Cloud my brain with…

  • Poetry

    Dark August Suits My Dark Heart

    This poem is not my own. It’s by Derek Walcott, and it suits me today. The first lines in the the first two stanzas especially hit me hard in the chest, like a sledgehammer. I am the sun in this poem. My only hope lies in the rest of the poem. Learning to love someone’s darkness as much as you love their light is a hard lesson, and one that does have it’s rewards. But sometimes, the darkness is too overwhelming and their demons are too much for one person to bear. Especially when that one person is fighting their own demons and cannot understand what they did to be…

  • OctPoWriMo,  Poetry

    World Mental Health Day

    Today is World Mental Health Day. I learned this from the subscription email I received this morning from OctPoWriMo. You can read the post here.   I have a niece who has anxiety attacks. These are debilitating to her when they happen. Her best friend suffers from OCD and Mysophobia (commonly know as germaphobia). My sister was diagnosed with Schizophrenia as a child, although I’m not sure it was correct. She’s not paranoid, per se, but she does have different personalities that take over her life when something comes up that she is just not mentally or emotionally capable of handling. I know people with bipolar disorder and lots more…