Taking the Psycho Path

I feel certain I am going mad again. I feel we can't go through another of those terrible times. And I shan't recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can't concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don't think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can't fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can't even write this properly. I can't read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that – everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can't go on spoiling your life any longer.

I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been.”

Always brings curses along with the blessings. By now, I should have outgrown my surprise at this phenomenon. Maybe next year. The leaves drop and the rain turns to snow and the government steals the only usable hour of sunshine I get. I gain a year of wisdom and I draw my family close and hope that arguments die before they can blossom. I shiver in bed. I shiver in the bath. After a few weeks the cold settles into my bones and I stop. Sometimes, the unending grey is a comfort. I'm tired.

2. The thing outside my window

Makes me keep my blinds drawn, because the thing outside my window is not a thing at all. It’s the noise of the road and the prying glare of the streetlights. It’s the creak and sway of the old trees. I used to throw the helicopter seeds down into the road for cars to crush, laughing all the while. The thing outside the window is my own reflection--can’t make eye contact with myself without worrying that ghosts are looking back at me. My reflection’s eyes hold more past than future and I don't want to remember. I’m tired. 

3. Chamomile 

Of the sun has kept me warm

now the days are getting shorter

darker, colder and festering reignition 

of all the times I should have burned

driving me insane, comfort by pain

it hurts but I know I'll live because

stretching herself round my ribs,

holding my lungs to ransom.

I have a fear of sleeping.

This tiny cat is courageous, her paws held in prayer at the base of my ear.

I breathe her in,

Maybe the molecules in my brain matter remembered when they were rainwater and mulm

Maybe my teeth preferred when they were pearls

Maybe my skin wanted to be fish scales

Maybe my tears miss being seafoam

Crashing against cliffs, eroding rock and mineral, pounding it to dust

Maybe next time my atoms will be at peace