Poetry

Schizophrenia, to me, is nothing more than a word. All it really means is that you experience psychosis on a regular enough basis that it’s a factor in your life. And that you actually do, as the word “schizophrenia” indicates, have a mind that you share with some sort of outside presence.

After 25 years of chronic emergency, 22 mental hospitalizations, a stint at a “community mental health center,” 13 years in a "board & care," repeated withdrawals from addictions to legal drugs, and a 12-year marriage, I plan to live every last breath out as a survivor, an advocate, and an artist.

There’s a beauty in madness That most will never understand A love that opens up your heart To those you never met, never knew, never saw before. And...

What if we all became preachers? Us madfolk Who’ve been locked up, lobotomized, and drugged into a living death Who’ve been tied to trees and left to...

I can remember certain feelings, but I can’t feel very well. I can’t hold someone’s hand because my hands over grip. They squeeze very hard....

This thing that stirs can’t be overcome. It starts like a steady, aching hum

Having an internal working model of secure attachment from childhood is a privilege. Yes, it’s a privilege.  It’s a privilege to not carry this hole. It’s a privilege to feel you truly know who you are.

I had this idea I could join the system and change it from the inside but you can’t join the system and not join the system

She (my psychologist) didn’t like me, and I don’t know why I guess it’s not okay to wish to die I was told by society I...

Darling girl, I wish for you to understand that The fire in your soul, the kind of love in your heart and the curiosity that drives...

Forgiven, a sonnet -------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't know how to write down my request or where it has to go to find my boy. I hope while drifting up...

i attended your funeral today in fact i was the one yes, won that organized it

Today I am 27. I spent many years of my life in a very dark place. I spent many years suffering without truly understanding why....

I want to write a love poem for the girls who have been branded with, “Borderline.” I want to write a love poem for the...

I wish you could see what happened to me They are things often not taught to a psychology student or MFT My mother became a drug...

Mad women Sad women Neglected And not accepted Our experiences of child abuse and suicidal ideation can’t possibly be connected We are said to be “crazy, hysterical, and abnormal,” And...

A rant dedicated to all “seniors” in geriatric wards and nursing homes we’re sick     we’re stuck     we’re fucked we’re labelled     we’re libelled “demented”      “incompetent”

The Hopkins psychiatrist glances up at me, then looks at my chart. “I remember the first time—and the second—when the depression lifted I felt like a party girl.” How long did that last? “A couple of days…three, maybe.” That’s a couple of days too long. You have all the signs of bipolar II.

one day we may all come to see that the way I treat you, I treat me it’s disguised from our eyes and operates energetically we don’t...

I wish you had tried to understand what had happened to me, but in the end, you lacked empathy. I tried to convey to you...

Running wouldn't help you'd still be yourself. So much noise inside that mind. The never ending urge to flee as if a change of...

And so, a new morning begins. The same way. Every day. For over 27 years now. Fear. Fear the police will break down my door....

“You are sick. You are unwell,” said the man in the white coat. “No rational person believes 9/11 was an inside job. Alas, You are a very sick man, and we are going to make you well. We can cure you. We used to burn witches, yet we’ve grown more Sophisticated in our methods. Now we leave the body intact - but not The mind. Look at what we did to Julian. No one can escape us.”

An Ode Against “Recovery”: Flourishing After Childhood Trauma by Rebecca Donaldson I remember when a therapist of mine once told me I could “recover.” The...

Do not swallow the pill, This condensed mass of powder That the world has convinced you Will “fix” you, your “problematic” self My darling, you are not broken You are not lost, you are not crumpled You are merely a being living In a society, in a culture That you were never meant to be forced into