Don't speak with your heart full
Don’t speak with your heart full.
Oh yeah, I get called ignorant, rude, anti-social, the quiet one; or I hear the whispers; he’s got mental health problems ha ha…….might be true…or it might not…so what would you know, try not to judge, we live in a world where we’re trying not to do that….anymore.
Clear as a blue day I see you deep, I feel your mystique; I feel your love one hundred percent steep.
There are days I take one step at a time sweet Jesus, one toe at a rhyme, just a night of no sleep when it all feels like treacle and I’ve got lead boots on…no it’s not long Covid ..but respect for the mortality process and for all of us who’ve been led and lost.
Sorry for who and what I am and how I ruck up …but I love and miss you just the same the life we’ve shared and are sharing still runs hot through my veins. I’m holding onto our aims..these leather reins.
I remember you and your mum were with me when I got diagnosed in the year two thousand with Bipolar Disorder, but you’ve still stuck with me even though I saw gigantic airplanes and the Doctor was measuring my blood pressure with a gigantic sphygmomanometer and I sat on the chair staring at the white walls as he pumped and felt so golden, scared, and immortalized. I am talking to God I thought.
All clichés you say, stories made up but ….no cos it’s true I had all of my friends and family with me but I saw heard, and spoke to new and I’m half a yard off the pace but…I can still touch my toes.
The sadness and low mood hang on me like a limpet to sea stone.
I feel so much inside of me that makes me want to cry, as I type this poem I can sense you all, I can see you even if my eyes and mind are closed when I pass you by or you think I have not tried and probably call me a rude, ignorant, arrogant selfish dervish…yes, I am that and can be cos I’m made of blood and broken bones and tissue and lithium and hallucinations and swirling curling hypnogogic's…….and lies…..and delusions and little notes to self everywhere; carbamazepine is in my hair.
And I would and should deserve that if the arrows you sent stuck me good… But they don’t because I’m still here holding onto our union, our bond our blood, and they never will stick those arrows.. just remember that we have to accept what comes… as it is, and Oh yes we can and are overcoming. Thank you. But yeah life can be an immovable brick or a brand new something kitsch to fill the nothingness.
To those that know me, yes I’m labeled secretly as a weirdo granted; and a bit different; not a chip off the old block RIP dad, but…..equally, I am nothing, just dust, a speck not even that to the connection that you have for me and for the love that you give me my darling wife my soul mate friend.
I cannot live without the force that you bring ever and will carry it with me to wherever the big man upstairs decides for me my final resting place where I can be at peace and push up Bipolar daisies.
I will always have your strength, my guilt, my mistakes, my misdemeanors’ the memory of all the horrible puppets who I’ve been in my life will dance around me, and the other lives those unexplainable things that still lurk in Lucifer’s shadow and around every happy corner; but….. Remember.
I’m still taking my pills and …..
I can see and recognize others’ pain and acknowledge their existence always and I try my very best in this world…
But I never speak with my heart full.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Andrew Alison.
Published on e-Stories.org on 03/27/2023.