Itchy in All the Wrong Ways

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.

What is Schizoaffective?

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.

Slave

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

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.

Growing Weary

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.

Catch You on the Flip Side

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.