Archive for poem

Poetry,sort of in motion

Posted in depression, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on April 12, 2018 by morgueticiaatoms

I have been up since 2 a.m. I woke and tried to get back to sleep but FAIL. So I bided time with a little housekeeping and lots of blank mindless staring at the tv. (There is nothing on worth watching tip 5 a.m. IF my antenna is pulling in that particular channel.) I tried watching Forensic Files on computer but alas,the cats chewed through my external speaker cord for the nth time. R has fixed them half a dozen times,told me there’s little left to solder so pitch em. This saddens me as they are the best sounding speakers I have ever had and for sixty bucks,they lasted over 7 years.

Anyway…I got my kid off to school and for the first time in weeks…I could sit outside at 7:45 a.m. without a coat,just my Murderdolls tshirt. It is sunny,warm,glorious. Forecast indicates it will stick for three days then back to the 20’s and. 30’s. Ick. We had snow Sunday and it was nineteen degrees. These extremes are hell on those with seasonal depression.

Having mentioned hell,I stopped by to get the dog’s leash as I was to fetch her after her spaying appt…and my dad announced he was riding with me cos the dog doesn’t know me too well.

Wtf? I talked to stepmonster last night and this was NOT mentioned. I was crestfallen. My dad’s overly critical and driving with him in the car makes me feel like a 16 year old noob even at 45. Not to mention his need to weigh in on any money I spend even when it’s for my ‘crazy pills’. (Yet my half brother is on mood stabilizers,anti depressants and anti anxiety drugs but he’s got ‘REAL’ problems,being special ed and all.) One more case of ignorant people thinking just because you average or above average intelligence means there is nothing wrong with you.

So all my errands (almost) where he could flog me for spending a quarter instead of getting trash service (that costs $85, not a damn quarter) were cancelled. I got a lecture cos Godsmack had 5 kittens and our lease says only one inside and I shouldn’t have let her get preggo and I should have her fixed($$$$???). Wtf am I supposed to do? I didn’t know she was knocked up,I kept her from males at the trailer park but since scumlord would never fix the hole in the vent system, a male got inside and did his thing. I didn’t even know she was expecting til we’d been here a month.

But that is the hell that is my dad. His parents critiqued him all his life and so goes the trickle down effect.

I was glad to just fetch the dog and get dad out of my car so the panic would die down and I could breathe. (Trust me,the immaturity,idiocy,and irony of a mouth heavy metal chick of 45 still getting flustered around mommy and daddy does not escape me.)

BUT to my dad’s credit,he didn’t put down my driving even once.

After I calmed down…I made another trip to town. Seems silly but I was out of my meds and the trip was inevitable anyway. That’s how shitty my dad makes me feel about my condition. I skipped the pharmacy just to avoid the ‘you’re able bodied,you’re just drawing disability cos you’re lazy’ speech.

So errands are done,and I am back in Armpit. I dread the homework hour when Spook gets home. She can’t focus or won’t,half asses shit, has fits if I correct her then verbally attacks me when her grade suffers cos she wouldn’t listen to me. I miss the teacher in town who never sent homework home and my kid was an A+ student. But since that school focused on core math and didn’t teach much cursive,my kid is struggling,bringing home F’s,and embarrassed that she’s been assigned extra help. Poor kid. And damn this new teacher for being so exacting. Apparently I was initialing Spook’s homework so messily,this teacher asked if my kid was forging my initials. Just to be a smartass yesterday I used a bright purple pen and signed my full legal name in cursive real big,complete with i’s dotted by smiley faces. Fuck ’em.

And now that shocker: I wrote a poem this morning and it’s not all brooding and dark. Enjoy.


Days spent in darkness,cold,alone,hopeless.

The sunlight peeks out of the sky.

My mind opens as if a curtain has been parted.

Warmth brushes my skin.

My soul whispers, ‘I’m alive again.’


The Beauty Of Cyclothymia

Posted in biolar disorder, mental health with tags , , , , on October 31, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

The instability of constantly rapid cycling moods is enough to drive one insane. Bipolar one gets long periods of mania. Bipolar two has long periods of depression.
The only constant in cyclothymia is that there is no consistency. If our mood sticks more than a few hours, we do cartwheels.

So the fact that my mood has been hovering in the middle for a couple of like a winning lottery ticket. Not feeling too little or too much. Having a few laughs. Putting on actual clothes, including undergarments, leaving the house. No panic attacks.
The holy grail of rapid cyclers.
This is a mental space I could happily exist in at all times. No extremes. Just middle of the road.

So…Without my mental demons nipping at my brain and toes…I don’t really have too much to say.
My kid’s been declared lice free (not that I think there was any this time) so we can take her trick or treating tomorrow.
My allergies are acting up and I am drowning in phlegm and sneezing and coughing like a maniac.
I feel…

Having said that, it is with cautious optimism I hope for some more middle ground days. It rarely holds with the ever changing rapid cycles but much like wishing unicorns and dragons were real…Hoping for some stability is not a bad thing.
I want to believe.

On a final note… I wrote this this week after seeing how differently people treat me depending on my mental state. It sucks to feel like you have to wear a mask and live a lie because people are too ignorant to educate themselves about mental illness.
I call this one Lies.


crash, burn, rinse, lather, repeat

Posted in biolar disorder with tags , , , , on June 23, 2014 by morgueticiaatoms

My mood crashed and burned around 5pm.

There was no trigger, nothing happened.

It just…went boom.

Gutter time.

The Paxil was increased so it will likely be this way the first week or so. Never get used to it, though.

I’ve been hanging tough but it doesn’t take Scotland Yard to detect I am in a dark place.

I need a brain reboot. Sleep. Defrag.

Like my kid is going to cooperate with that notion.

Ass trash fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

(big smile because otherwise I will be called a downer.)

(never mind it’s fake, no one cares.)

I wrote this awhile back. Describes the prior seven months of my life.

smile that never reaches my eyes

Photoetry Post-Maimed-poem about panic

Posted in anxiety disorders, panic disorder with tags , , , , , on November 15, 2011 by morgueticiaatoms

Photoetry Post-Going Under-poem about depression

Posted in depression with tags , , , on November 15, 2011 by morgueticiaatoms