PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I know my illness and my illness knows me.

We keep fighting each other in this boxing ring inside my head.

I'm all bloodied up from it.



I've been talking to myself in the mirror.

The answers I back from her are weird.

I'm not sure I'm hearing my own thoughts anymore.

I'm becoming distressed.

And then it's gone as if it's never been.



These are my days.

Sometimes I feel normal and then

the world caves in on me and

Leaves me to wonder around in the dark.



I hate that I can't control the up's and the down's.

I am their toy.

I wish God  would set me free.

Everywhere I go I forget something.

I'm starting to wonder if the world's eyes see my

flaws as clearly as bright neon signs and bigger

then the Big Butter Jesus I pass on I-75.



I drive myself in circles.

Never knowing what is the truth.

I feel I've said all this many times before.

I have conversations with the famous celebrities.



I talk with my therapist but he's only in my  mind.

So when I go to therapy I don't say much because

I think I've already talked about it with him.

He has to remind me he's not liable for any

sessions I conjure up with him.



Reality is 60% bitter pills and 40% sleeping in late.

And together I only function 45% of  the time.

My math has never added up.

Being me is not  knowing where these words come from.

or how I write them down.

My imagination isn't enough

because Monday's always drive me crazy.