lilm0m0 asked: i love your recent untitled post. i can't explain why i appreciate it so much, but i do. my dad was bipolar. your writing is lovely. (i'm the mod for stfubiphobia, btw... reblogging this on my personal :)

Thank you so much for the sweet words…. i feel so free on the other end of sharing it.

While the hospital bracelets still looked fresh against punctured skin “What does it feel like to be bipolar?” This is a coming out of the closet it seems I will always recent I wanted to tell her the good parts first  I tried telling her the good parts first How its magic carpets rides when you fall in love Music in the body, electric hymns testifying even through finger tips Just how spacious big can feel How many times I’ve found myself holding strangers spilling secrets, how good it feels to be safe How far down joy’s spectrum I’ve traveled How much I get to love her  Desperation in her eyes she says   “That’s the manic part? Right?” “No” I respond    For those of us who’ve had to explain our most beautiful parts under glass  Imagined ourselves museum exhibits Affirming how good it is to have patrons even when they wear us down For synapse delayed reactors with wide vision and big feelings Misfired responses that always scream love Lithium swallowed regiments with no guarantee to keep you out of the BHU When someone asks you how it feels to be bipolar make sure they can make room for your answer See my mother wasn’t ready know the details How the first time I feel in love I held him close enough to see his secrets Watch his uncle force his mouth open to give secret kisses in secret places Watch him brush his own skin with razors in sacrifice Intuition and mysticism doesn’t always detour to avoid  hell Mama are you sure you’re ready? It’s a lot to understand what good friends I’ve made with suffering How I fall down the bean stock so often I’ve mastered hard soil landings Can you stomach the way suicide has sung to me?; red lipped gardenia seduction Fathom that I know how to lock myself up in my room in the name of keeping the people I love safe from my rage  Do you wanna know my secrets? Like how when folks say “I don’t know how to lie” I don’t know what they mean Mama I have to make friends with the Truth daily just to remember how to use it I would never ask you to watch the movie that plays in mind  It’s far too lovely to keep ending the way that it does Remember when you knew me as answered prayer The fireiest part of your spirit amplified  Do you remember taking guesses with friends on what I would become? The president, a doctor and a minister Do you remember me performing loud enough to pretend to not hear your compliments? Being bipolar is just like that mama; but without the compliments Watching circles of your kin brainstorming your future’s limitations and pretending not to hear I can’t be sorry that you and my fathers liquids  froth and hiss like baking soda and vinegar  I can’t apologize that I am that bitter tasting explosion or at least its result I love you Big Unbalanced and unreserved I love you from both sides of the closet door  You might not ever understand what it is to be bipolar But I pray you always remember what’s it’s like to be loved by someone crazy

thegirlsoul:

The waves of time
Splashes in constant
Turns like thoughts
That have come back
Like thoughts that have
Receded backstage
There is a murmur
A chatter
An unending series
Of images
Which my mind’s eye sees
Like some movie going on
Without any beginning
Without an ending
And I watch calmly
In a posture so composed
Like there’s never going to be
Any other activity
Except thinking thoughts
That would continue
To mesmerize my mind..
Infinitely…