The Daft, Demented, and Delirious

She is home, She is adventure. She is passionate love laced with ill temper. Like a martini; Shaken not stirred, Steady yet shifting like wind on a flying bird. Gather here like thoughts and swirling smoke, As the feathers scatter, they all laugh at her jokes. Controlled chaos, whats right and what's wrong? Misinterpreted like the words in a song. A lyric, a verse, a long forgotten tune, Even the sun has to share it's light with the moon. Darkness so lonely but not hopeless all Of the time, Looking for a familiar  rhythm and praying it all rhymes.

Where has technology taken us? A phone full of contacts with nobody to actually reach out to. Multiple social media accounts full of friends and family we never really see. The "friend" numbers soar upwards yet physical contact plummets. There's a reason its called, "hardware" because it was never meant to embrace, console, or love any of us. We connect just to disconnect. We sign on and sign out. When the internet was born the soul started to die.

Her only true crime was wanting to love and to be loved. This lead to a lot of mistakes, bad choices, and dangerous behavior. She accepted things she should not have accepted . She tried to understand launguages she could not speak. The more she tried to understand the less she knew. The more she tried to belong the more seperated she became. In her journey to smile she cried a lot more . In her quest to belong to someone else she was left alone; more alone than she started out. Her only true crime was wanting to love and to be loved.

When my tears no longer mean anything. They start so heavy and wet then burn up and evaporate much like my thoughts. My face is hot & my body is cold. There's nowhere to go it seems. Can't outrun myself. I'm never home. I'm never stable. I'm never happy. Incomplete. Always alone in this. Why does it always feel like I'm fighting; for something impossible? I'm impossible. Unlovable. A loaded gun ready to fire at will. I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed of running and equally ashamed for staying in situations I need not be in. I burn bridges then go back to the ashes and sob. I make messes I can not clean up. Never knowing what is right. Mixed up, messed up, bordering insane. Exausted. How can this be me? How can this be my life? If I say out loud in these moments my true thoughts, my true pain, my true feelings:  they'd judge me, commit me, and rightfully so. Only confirming what I've known all along: I'm damaged.

Deeper than saddness I just can't see How they use the term "depression" so loosely. Do you really know? Do you understand? Diagnosing me, labeling me, I'm not a item or brand. A box on a shelf like baking soda or cake batter, Medical school can't teach understanding and still ashes we scatter. Here's another pill; here's the remedy, If it doesn't work try changing it to twice daily. Increase, decrease change the name, Roll of the dice like my mental health is a game. Russian Roulette, Parker Brothers, Treat me just like one of the others. If you felt it only then would you see I'm not them and they are not me.

A good woman who's been pushed a time or two, to do some bad things she never meant to do. There's strength behind those tears, there's healing when she bleeds: Real, raw, beauty; a wildflower among the weeds. A tiny mustard seed who grew into a deep rooted tree, Cast out into the wind and the world, you never knew how strong she'd grow to be. Goodbye was her new begining the end is where she started, Holding fast to her faith and that God will not forsake the tired and broken hearted.

When your house stares right back at you For it knows that you're a stranger too. No comfort in your bed, no comfort behind these walls. The couch, the tub, the kitchen, no comfort there at all. Your own skin is the stranger though it holds you together the best it can, Still you unravel stitch by stitch and fall apart stand by strand. You can not find comfort in the unknown, and not knowing what's false or true, You can not find peace or stability when the unknown takes over you.

Time has slowly taken the human touch out of everything. Painting, drawing, writing has all become computerized. How soon then are we to follow.

You can't scare me tonight Mister ghost for I'm haunted more than you. I fear not these rooms full of spirits whom are briefly passing through, for I am the oldest haunt around; the one who built this place, The one who once laughed and loved here now echoing solemly across the empty space. Another time another place things were much different here, A beautiful place raveged by time, be damned now all who enter here.

You in the dining room table chair Me on the uncomfortable sofa we both hate. You play guitar and rain falls in rhythm on the roof. I think to myself silently: The rest of world can have their fancy dinner parties; their summer homes they  never use; and their mixed cocktails. I'd rather have take out food, our tiny cottage and fine herbs with you any day. Being with you is everything. We are the royal ones my love. Rich in spirit, rich in passion, rich in love. We are unfathomably deep in riches that many will never even know. Bathed in light. Our light. You. Me. Us.

The world may have doubted me but you never did, There were times I was dying but love helped me live. Vibrations and energy grow strong in a place that once was so hollow, Dreams, life, and love, my soul I will follow. Light and roots grow wild from the inside out, The earth and the sky pull me together, this is what life is all about. Alive and thriving as these rooms I move through, I no longer question this journey for it lead me to you. Peace in my spirit, completion of my being, I've always had these eyes but this feels like the first time I'm seeing. The colors are plentiful and the beauty is real, Never knew this is how reality could feel.

When your heart hurts and everything gets dark, When you long to burn but can't find your spark. Heart is racing it hurts to breath, You're frozen in place while your insides upheave. Your heart and mind gallop like a horse in a race, You fret and fumble for your lost sacred space. A prisoner of your emotions, locked away in your head, You want to run but you just cry instead: The tears bringing anger and make it too real, Why must you falter? Why must you feel? You pray for the strength to not go back where you've been, Why is it so easy too lose, yet so hard to win? Do you miss being numb? Which thoughts are true? Who's going to make it your demons or you?