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I DON'T KNOW WHY
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LYNN I DON'T KNOW WHY!
I have nothing...
NO money...
NO career...
JUST my dogs, who comfort me in my lonliness,
In the dark recesses of my mind,
Where I lie fetal begging for the depression to go away.
JUST wanting to take razors to my body,
To watch my blood flow, thinking...
This will release my pain...
Like my blood is filled with a virus.
Inside my brain, this goes against all reason,
Yet feels so right...even calming.
I think, why does she love me?
If I have nothing, and my brain...
This depression moving in and around me...
Feels like 6 big snakes coiling and curling under my skin:
If I cannot control my own thoughts....
WHO AM I TO BECOME? WHAT IS TO BECOME OF ME?
WHO COULD LOVE ME?
When I'm more preoccupied with the unbareable pain,
The strife,
The agony,
This unadulterated misery...When I try to tell her how I feel about something totally different but comes out wrong.
"NO! I DIDN'T TOUCH YOUR LUNCH AND I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE
CAT FOOD IS!!!"
Best Friends with their token advice...
"YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO LIVE WITH IT.
TO GET USED TO IT.
AND TO JUST SNAP OUT OF IT!"
FIVE CENT SHRINKS!!!
HOW! HOW WILL I EVER, EVER, GET HER TO KNOW....
That her smile stops the maddness for just a few seconds.
That her tender touch,
A simple hand upon my hand,
Quells the snakes for just a bit.
Allows reason to flow in,
Make life worth living again.
That a hug, her hoding me,
Stops the voices that want the razor blades.
And the maddness that has me barking at her, sees the
tenderness that flows from her eyes in huge tears.
WHY? HOW CAN SHE LOVE THIS WRECK?
She is a majestic oceanliner,
Frills and flags,
A Full decorated crew for valiance and honor.
Yet, anyone can relax on her decks.
ANYONE!
And I am an old steam ship,
Whose worn crew of old men,
Are stripping the wood off the decks to burn,
Just to keep this ship moving.
WHY? It drives me crazy.
When all she says, "Because you love me."
I cannot see my value through
The mustard gas in my mask.
Yet something is out there,
In the air where she sees me...unaffected by the gas.
With a totally objective view.
I know children mature at different speeds,
But in my life comparison,
It seems as if I have not even begun puberty,
And I've been flung into this world of unknown,
And everywhere around me there are my peers,
Classmates from high school and college,
Who now hear my troubles...as they are my
Mental Health workers, Case Managers, therapists...
While I eat humility pie,
They FEED hungarily at the table of success.
Instead of "Thank-you", it's "It looks like times up..."
As I empty my pocketbook into their coffers.
Yet, She loves me.
I DON'T KNOW WHY.
You have a real talent for putting your emotions into words. Your comment on mental illness-WOW, I don't even know what to say. It made me think of it in a new way. Very profound thoughts.
girlfriend, theraputic with your flow and tenure; the revealment frightened me and i would guess that is real art; illicting, sometimes pulling feeling out of people. ye3s you are talented, but let this evil demon fly out from your body: dont use this precious time grieving the loss for to long, for there is a bright cloudy moon up there and you can frame its beauty through your hands, and this is when i can feel truely free of the pain, smiling, experiencing what being grateful really......................so baby get over it and feel the simple gifts, dont we just muck up life with complications. we are self, and everything you need is within. life continues and we make the choice, i am writing this to myself as well as you, i can no longer put a piece of myself into someone else, because when they go (as i believe it is the devine plan) they take it with them and the grieving process is so horrifyingly intense, you are lost, where is myself, i for one want to meet people on even ground and intact when they leave, i realize, i am not critiquing the beautful an seemingly mysterious feelings of the poem but like perhaps every one i was identifying,,,, people like you and me all want that nurturing, all encompassing,love that can really only come from a mom or ''''''''''ourselfs. you know what i mean,