"Why do you laugh?
Do you not see
How useless is it?
Are you delusional?
Or have you gone mad?"
You questioned me.
I stared, and laughed.
I am not blind, and
I certainly feel helpless.
But, still I laugh,
For I have already cried.

In laughter, I find unity
With others who laugh too
In laughter, there is power
Against clowns and idiots
With delusions of grandeur
As I laugh, I show sanity
While exposing stupidity

To laugh is to cope
A means of catharsis
It is as valid as crying
And often, I do both
I laugh, because I am unfortunately still human

I miss the sound of water
Keening past the hull,
I miss the soughing of wind in sail
And the dull thrum of the shrouds
Like oversized guitar strings
Plucked from my heart,
By fingers felt
Yet never seen,


I miss the heel of the hull as a gust
Catches the sails,
The feel of the gunwhale
Below my buttocks as I hike out,
The restored sense of balance
As my weight matches
The turning moment
Of sail over keel,

I miss that simple shared moment
Of unity and rightness
With a crew who understands,
Or sometimes while solo
I share that instant with
The great good God that made
Me and others fit
To experience His creation

I miss the water,
I miss the wind,
I miss the feel of a taut sheet
And a tiller in my hands,
The surging sense of motion
As the shore retreats
And the horizon beckons
Me forward

I miss all these things and yet
Even as I type this verse,
At the end of another day,
Another week and with another
Boatless weekend ahead,
Like all good fish heads,
In my head and in my heart
I am - still - sailing

The Demons are back again,
Haunting me with darkness,
Painting me with insanity,
Those sick little artists.
It's all my fault,
All the years of failure
And the neglect to cure this disorder,
That controls me.
The sadness consumes me,
The water is getting higher,
I can't breath, I'm drowning
In everything that becomes of me.
My mind bubbles with regret
And burns in pain
For ignoring this illness
That makes me insane.
My heart beats slowly
As it frowns in silence,
My blood rushes around
in heavy violence.
My body shakes
And I'm short on breath.
I'm becoming attacked by this panic
And I become a mess.
It's maniac ways
Every days the same.
It's calm and it's crazy
And I'm always fighting to stay Sane.

--And,

After picking her beautiful
jaw  up, off the ground
over the shock-blast of  realizing
that  she (after all of these years)
   had been  finally seen..

there was a shuffling  noise
that I could hear in the background
over the phone..

and I couldn't tell  if it  was her--

scrambling to finish  filling out
the restraining order she started
last week

or maybe  
just  flopping around  in the dark
in her search for the block button

But perhaps..  just perhaps
she is running upstairs  to find  for herself,  
a dry pair of *******

Or better yet,  in order to
race into her room,  her clothes--
strewn,  in a wake behind her
in her overwhelming  need

to knock out  a whole series  of
wildly uncontrollable, release (s)

Strange how it is
that  far too often  these things
can go either way--
yet either way, sweet love

your beautiful jaw
will never again,  be the same

Xo

The only thing that keeps me sane
is hoping I'll see you again.
Legs bound and move around a chain,
I search the sky for aeroplanes.

Visions, visions of sanity
Aching from your chest
Crazy, crazy girl
Your mind’s a mess

Pick your poison
Drink your wine
You’ll be here
Until the end of time

In a vision
Vision of sanity
I’m dancing freely
In the sunshine

Let it be done in madness
Let it be done in rage
Let my voice sound
Like a moan of desire
When I’m in misery or strength

When my mind falls under Aphrodite’s spell
And temptation leads the way
Just know that ill commit to eternity in hell
If this sanity will stay.

Selmhem Naise
03/2016

Poetry is so much
more
than many people think it is.
It is
the place
where the battleground of light and dark
makes its  finest stand..

or most pathetic fall.

A novelty.
Her love is pressed lilacs in your favorite book.
I’ve been in love with her an eternity of lifetimes.
If there was an I, there was a her somewhere too.
& the world needed it.
Needed her.


Her bipolar disorder makes her superman ice cream in Mid-July. The spectrum far wider than the napoleon we're accustom to. Emotions melting into each other like organized chaos. Then, converging into a supernova of empathy. An amplifier to all that is forgotten in our ability to feel. I wonder on some days how she can cultivate anything other than mania. Yet, she is more harmonic than Beethoven’s ninth symphony. Do you feel – do you feel the weight of the world, my love? Her world taste of colors. The rainbow of emotions seeping through every orifice of her body.


I’m reminded how much is lost in the translation.
How it must be to feel without a filter. Then, every cry over a stranger seems to be the somber pieces of humanity missing. A world lost in alexymethia – she is the sanity we’ve never known.