Diagnosis

The diagnosis
is not good
when the patient
refuses to see
that the fear
of what
Other people Say
if they let
Their mind
Run free
to all the Possibilities
to all
what could be
if the patient
opens their mind
and makes their eyes
receive
the medicine
that they need
to show the herd
there is no fear
when you are Free
to Think
the thoughts
to form
the words
to gather a group
to Demand the Things
that Should be

Imaginary Lovers

Of all the imaginary lovers and scenarios he ever had
No matter how good or bad, he always came back to her
She had the perfect form that wouldn’t change or age with time
But something had gone awry somewhere along the way
That day he thought he was beginning to lose his mind
When physical signs and evidence started manifesting

Although he tried to abstain from her, he couldn’t contain it
He couldn’t restrain his need and yearning for the prohibited
He exhibited quiet and normal behavior but with false pretenses
As his senses schemed more elaborate sets and arrangements
He was always patiently looking to indulge in his urges and whims

But in the mornings when he woke up, she was always gone
He felt withdrawn but excited she left hints and clues behind
All kinds of things, casual things random things, were moved
And the aroma of her perfume seemed to stay in the room
Until she would come to him in his dream the next night

She seemed like an apparition, always timely and punctual
Their intellectual conversation always started very innocent
She was very diligent with every word that poured from her lips
Like a lullaby, he thought, that seemed to turned into seduction 
But somewhere in the function, in the midst of their dialogue
A mist, a fog, a haze would come over and infiltrate his mind
There were times he thought she was some kind of enchantress
Dressed in white like a deviant angel that came to ease him

But it was one specific night when his fantasy had gone bizarre
As far as wanting to strangle her in the midst of her climax
Not to kill her but so as to enhance her orgasm even more
And to his horror when he finally woke up the next morning
His face had been bandaged up
She left scratches all over his face

She didn’t come back to him after that particular night
No matter how hard he tried to close his eyes and see her
He couldn’t
But it was about six months later
When the treatments had taken effect
He became lucid for a day

Then he remembered…
How every night at the same hour she came into his room
To pick up his dinner tray then sat at the edge of his bed
How sometimes they’d chat as she administered his meds
How somewhere between the drugs taking their effect
And she cleaned his room, he dozed off into his illusions
How that night he remembered the look of terror in her face
How she screamed, loud enough for the entire ward to hear
How the male nurses strapped him in as he smiled ear to ear

He looked at his reflection in the window and saw a much older man
Not the youth he thought he was, or is or used to be
But it seemed that time and imagination had slipped away from him

Thanks to everyone who got involved. Every write was honest and brutal. Thanks for sharing and connecting over such a difficult subject. Takes guts to expose yourself this way.

You guys are cool as fuck.

peace, B

To come first against NightBirdBlue’s little piece of awesomeness was a real honour.

Thanks for this comp and giving mental health a bit of a voice.

Your work is beautiful Missy! I’m honored to be a runner-up on this comp. Everyone expressed some tenderness here, so to all- may you find peace within <3

My deep thanks to you, our host B, for giving all of us the opportunity when it comes to expression of what the poet and the reader both seek to find.

🔑