Mental Health and Family

I was never a spy
in your house of love
 
rather here  
in this room
called death
 
you are my martyr
I am his concubine
eros still rattles
our broken bones
entwined
 
dancing towards
the music of his
knuckles
 
in blackened blues
 
we mime our love  
transforming  
our blistering aches  
yet we know not  
their history    
      
if we closed our eyes      
how then can pain      
ask for forgiveness      
      
trauma hangs upon each tendril      
matrixed within hate  
praying mantis
I ask of you
      
how then can we  begin
to gestate      
galactic union      
      
if we close our eyes      
even further  
      
we will never know      
how to trust an eagle      
how to listen      
through      
the antlers      
of a deer      
a lulling lark      
      
sings from
my spine again
 
 
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all rights reserved    
 

My frowning face..      
My teary face..    
My straight face..        
My smiling face..        
Behind the expressions on my many faces is everything you'll never understand..        
        
You keep scolding me for whatever reason..        
You keep harassing me for every little fault knowingly or unknowingly .        
You blame me subliminally for the fault of others..        
All in the name of righteousness?..        
       
We are the same..        
Just trailing opposite paths..        
You act I react..        
I act you react..        
Putting everything in motion..        
That 3rd law..        
Our actions..        
Our reactions..        
Equal just opposite..        
Time changes yesterday..        
I change with time..        
Normally I will expect you to do the same..      
But the less I care the happier I am..        
Like me believing and feeling in public when I am alone..        
       
In this family I am the black sheep a fact I accepted a long time ago..        
While all you all choose to ignore the white patches on this black sheep.. Well, not my problem..        
Love or hate me, not my problem..        
Consider me one of you not my problem..        
Denounce, me not my problem ..        
Reject me, not my problem..        
       
I declared myself an outcast for a while now..        
Every one has to break at some point only that we differ respectively;        
Some people's heart melts thus going by melting..        
Some ended up freezing..        
Some condensate..        
Others vaporize..        
Curtains up all is set as a premonition..      
Right before your eyes, I will sublime..        
And on this occasion..        
Mounting a comeback by means of a DEPOSITION        
       
Far away somewhere exist again as a solid form in human..

     Possessing a diagnosis that makes you feel like you’re living on the dark side of the moon. Psychosis! Why does she stay with me?
     Possessing this thunder in your heart with the hope that one day you’ll wake up and it’ll just be a bad dream. No! It’s permanent, so, I beg the question again, why does she stay with me?
     I look at her with love. Love of something so much better than me. She sees me, yet, not the disorder which plagues me. Why, why does she stay with me?
     She looks at me with love. Love of something she holds so dear. And I see her, yet, notice nothing in her eyes suggesting disgust. She stays with me because she is blind to my mental illness.

You use ideas as weapons
try and make me a villain
in your story
where I'm not
and never have been
the bad guy

You act like boundaries
is a dirty word
when you just want a life
without consequences

I understand that your
flight or flight response
is to turn me into a bitch
so you can be the martyr
but no one is looking
to burn you at the stake
and turning your trauma on me
won't heal the wounds
within either of us

I won't break myself
so you can kill yourself slowly
and hold a loaded gun to my head
and make me watch
the threads of you unravel

I've been there and done that
and I still carry those scars
of the last time you
pulled me into this dance

You twist words
twist my emotions
twist ideas
until I fit the villain
your reality needs

You use ideas as weapons
and don't care about the people
you have to break
to get what you want

 
It's a harsh time

trying to be kind
and fall back in
love with your
own flesh,

for years I did
my best trying  
to get away
from mine

then I was gifted
grandmother stone,
she takes her time
crafting away at
everything I fail
to see in myself

as I fall asleep
with her tucked
inside my pillow,

so I gave her
to my sibling
sometime ago

because she
embraces a
familiar kind
of storm,

I cried tears
of joy seeing
her glow like
the first day
of summer

it's the start
of a new year
now, my sibling
has returned
grandmother
back to me

seeing how
february has
not been so
kind to my
bones.

Asphyxiation becomes you, like unto a vacuum
Always sucking, never consuming enough
Always consuming the air of we in your circle

There are no pills, no cure
Because you are not sick
There is nothing in your toolbox
Rusting there for you to fix
What you think is not broken

I moaned for you when consequence had no remedy
I tried to believe your didactic charms. Honestly  
I still don’t know if this is all my fault
Even though they tell me it is not

They say to put on your own oxygen mask
Before assisting others
But I could not find one that fit you.
Before we crashed.

I dream of your dead lifeless body
and awake to sweaty palms  
and a panic attack
wondering if you made it  
through another broken night  
 
You hold death on your tongue
like the promise of a good night kiss
and I can't hold your face  
any closer  
or further away
because it makes no difference  
to the rain in your eyes  
and I won't be the one  
to pull trigger  
 
You hold death on your tongue
like a knife  
and I refuse to be mugged  
by your sadness  
when I can't save you
from the abyss you dug yourself  
 
I can't love you better  
when your love leaves burns inside
that I can't heal with happy memories
and better days  
 
I can't save us both from the dark

“Is it not written that everybody is a god?” (St. John 10:34)
 
You enter the sacred place with feces on your shoes  
and flop your fat ass down like some myopic pig  
You hold the question mark in your hand, like a scepter  
It is your word-smithing weapon of choice
 
You don’t want to be God, but to be like God
You want the privilege without the responsibility
You feign humility and inflict with your scepter  
not looking for answers but subjugation
 
God has no need of a question mark
nor a scepter, nor obedient subjects  
You fancy a fucked up world in your head
You are God but you don’t act like it
 
In your mind you put your subjects in a cage  
In your heart you drink their essence and smile in the mirror
And you wield the mark for the wrong reasons  
Questions without inquiry is a mere crusade

Depression can be spread to you
I’ll tell you what I mean
It’s something that’s inside of you
There nestled deep within

Invading all your thoughts
And playing havoc on your brain
Your heart is filled with darkness
Your emotions soaked in pain

The illness spreads through your veins
Your whole body now consumed
I’ve seen it happen once
And the poor girl started to use

I never will forget the day
I met miss Lina Rose
The day she started therapy
We wore the same dark clothes

Lina didn’t talk too much
At least not the first day
Her mother spoke of her dark notes
Her desire to go away

Lina was a teen and a late bloomer
Scrawny build
She gripped her bag with book in hand
A notebook half way filled

Her mother had high hopes for her
She swore that this would help
She’s tried it all, holes fill the hall
From rage and manic spells

Lina didn’t disagree
Nor challenge what was said
She solely nodded
Then I started
To hear what wasn’t said

She didn’t hate her mother
She did fairly well in school
She had no friends, no siblings
And she never broke a rule

Her father died just recently
It’s barely been a year
Around the time that Lina changed
When brightness disappeared

The session ended awkwardly
As that was all they said
Not how or why or where
Just the fact that he was dead

I had so many questions
But I noticed then a sign
Her mother glared, such a quick stare
Lina stared down and sighed

After they left, I looked over
All the notes I’d written down
All were made by her mother
Lina never made a sound

The next session I asked
If I could talk to her alone
Her mother, Grace, did hesitate
But left her on her own

Lina walked in cautiously
Then she chose to sit across me
She gripped the book close to her chest
And whispered answers softly

Her answers were one worded
She didn’t dare elaborate
I barely heard a yes or no
The answers never straight

Our hour it had come and gone
The timer broke the spell
The silence that had filled our time
The fact is she’s not well

She’d meet my eyes sporadically
As if she would combust
As if I could look deep enough
And see her inner thoughts

From then on I saw her alone
Grace waited in the lobby
This time I asked more questions
And found out we shared a hobby

Lina liked to write on her spare time
It’s all she did
The only thing that comforted her
Ever since she was a kid

I asked her of her writings
She was eager to divulge
She spoke of cats and rainbows
All her color coded words

I asked her of her father
She looked around so frightened
She met my eyes, to my surprise
They’re empty, dark, despondent

Her bottom lip it quivered
And a tear escaped her eye
She told me she was daddy’s girl
Up until the day he died

Her father was a rock star once
When young, I had his poster
He was mature when she was born
And Grace, he had divorced her

Lina, from a broken home
Stayed mainly with her daddy
Two holidays, hip hip hooray
But mom was never happy

Lina didn’t know why they divorced
She never asked
She knew her mom did something wrong
It’s what caused her dad to pass

Her dad left her a letter
A special note that’s just for her
He blamed her mom, in all his songs
She caused his pain and more

He paid for all her luxuries
Grace lived a lavish life
It was from all the lawsuits
And he paid, he wouldn’t fight

In the end he left her everything
His baby Lina Rose
He left her more
Than anyone knows
Private songs with all the prose

He left priceless mementos
Guitars and all his clothes
Drawings and exotic art
Gave her everything he’d owned

She started to enjoy visits
Each session we delved deeper
He had to know, her house now home
He sent her to the reaper

Lina was still processing
He loved her very much
She didn’t understand the way he left
The loss was so abrupt

His suicide, the way he died
Alone in a hotel
Prescription pills, a bottle spilled
Confessions of his hell

She’d read through all his notes
His leather journals, filled with tears
As if they both had cried
At the same time
The writing smeared

The more time passed
We built a bond
And Grace had never pressed
She knew Lina needed someone
To her Lina was stress

The short time they were married
Grace had scandal after scandal
And dad so sad, just looked away
Grace was too much to handle

He never did get over her
Divorce was imminent
He had to tour, she wanted more
So much of it she spent

Lina held resentment
Towards her mom, the lack of love
She wanted to be with her dad
Not quite sure where he was

She hoped there was a heaven
She knew that he’d get in
She hoped he watched out for her
Hating mommy now her sin

She never told a thing to Grace
The secrets and the songs
Grace must’ve know, she was his muse
Must’ve known all along

Our last session had ended
With a hug and see you soon
Grace by now was in the car
Her driver waited too

The session seemed so normal
She was alert these past few weeks
I never realized the lies
The secret Lina keeps

That weekend a detective
Left a card out by my door
I’d just come from the mall
I dropped the bags down on the floor

Lina was found earlier
That day in bed half naked
She overdosed on lines of coke
Her heart it couldn’t take it

Their maid had found her far too late
Her body stiff and cold
Her bedroom fully scattered
With the books, stories dad told

Upon her stomach lay a book
The page a dedication
It mentioned several memories
With pictures he had taken

The book was of her life, as she grew up
He wrote a memoir
The blessing that she was to him
How she had got him this far

The last page was a goodbye
An I’m sorry, a forgive me
Begging her to live her life
To be kind and love freely

I put away her folders and her files
The moment somber
I really had high hopes for her
She should’ve lived much longer

Months they had gone by
Then a familiar name came through
I opened up my calendar
And this is what I knew

Grace had been admitted
Not by choice to the psych ward
She’d been there for a month
Major depression was a source

They found her sitting by the road
On the overpass just staring
They thought that she would jump
But she just sat there looking daring

They grabbed her and they hauled her off
And pumped her up with meds
With more strange pills, emotions spilled
She got lost in her head

I called back the referral
Just to learn a little more
These past few months she pulled more stunts
Like jumping out the door

Her driver had pulled over
Just in time so she survived
She promised to do better
But her heart wanted to die

The notes from the facility
Listed suicidal ideation
This was so out of character
The name could be mistaken

The person on the other end
Confirmed it’s Lina’s mom
She mentioned of her daughter’s death
Her husband once sang songs

I had to decline taking her
Too much that I had known
I was her daughter’s therapist
I had to let her go

I wished for her to be well
But she’ll never be the same
Karma had come into play
And made her go insane

She’d lived with the regrets
The many mistakes she had made
And this is how life paid her back
By gifting her with pain

Depression went from daddy
Then to Lina, then to Grace
Depression can spread easily
It’s pain that gets displaced