I got an itch I can’t scratch Because every time I do it bleeds And, boy, am I a bleeder. Lost so much blood I almost died. Just a Band-Aid for me, Skip the stitches. My dad will super glue my skin together And all will be well again.
Fuck this disorder. Schizoaffective. Pfft. No one knows What that is. When asked (or rather if asked), I say it’s a Combo of schizophrenia and bipolar; How awful that sounds. How awful that is. Repeated breaks from reality Shifts in mood Either too high Or too low. Yeah, “even” exists, But it never lasts. So yeah, Fuck this disorder.
Nothing but a slave To the chemicals. Depakote, Zyprexa, Invega My personal cocktail. So tired, But I can’t sleep; So hungry But I can’t eat. Without them though I’m crying on the bathroom floor. Nothing but a slave To the chemicals. Saying hello to my buddy– Leo the Leprechaun Living in the 4th dimension. Nothing but a slave To the chemicals. Neurotransmitters on the fritz. Block the dopamine. Flood my brain. Nothing but a slave To the chemicals.
Lightning bolts whiz across the sky Like they’re trying to mirror my thoughts. Thunder roars equally as loud As my roar, A roar I am using far too frequently. Here I am again, Swimming in my head again. It was fun at first, And I still don’t want to stop, But now I’m getting scared. What if it’s not that I don’t want to stop, But that I can’t stop? The temperature of my soul burns, As though it was just struck By that lightning bolt Whizzing across the sky Because my head was just struck By all these ecstatic frightening thoughts Whizzing through my neurons.
I’m growing weary Of the ephemerality of stability. It’s not fair–no nevermind; Nothing is fair–it just plain Old sucks That I spends weeks, sometimes months In an out-of-control manic state Feeling God run through my veins As my bank account gets wounded And I unknowingly hurt myself Over and over again, Burning bridges like some Kind of arsonist Followed by weeks, maybe months Of soul-crushing depression And feeling that the world is just too much for me– Or am I too much for it? Then it eases Oh so temporarily Before the cycle repeats.
Brisk air chills My exposed face. I’m stuck wondering If I can’t sleep, And I can’t eat, How can I do anything? Running back home, I can only wonder How people just Exist in This purgatory.
I am on a lifelong journey That started at birth, But won’t end with my death. No, my spirit will venture onwards. I will continue to explore the heavens And the pits of Hell Never knowing where I’ll fit in; Even God doesn’t know what to do with me.