My Pet Illusion

This is a rough sketch of a recurring hallucination I have. He mostly chills behind the tv stand but at night he comes prowling and no matter how many times I’ve seen it, it still scares the hell out of me.

Such a noble imitation takes years.

As the past was once
And never becomes,
Let my road be straight.
Let me spill my blood
Upon heavens gate.
Let my heart lose its beat
For all that is lost or cold
Or empty.
If the clock and my eyes
Tell the truth all at once,
Then the sun’s coming up.
But not for me
With my mind nightingly
In this old blue truck
Too tired to carry me.
Not in Kansas anymore.
Rivers red landslide.
I change my mind.
And I open the door.

Hypnagogic

A strangeness perceived
When you look in my eyes,
For behind them I am horrified.
Tears of blood streaming
And fingers wringing as voices say
“We’ll wash our hands tonight.”
For a twisted mind
It’s no surprise
That something’s wrong
Behind my eyes.

. . . And Rising . . .

It’s been nearly two weeks for me without any form of delusions or hallucinations. I can hardly believe it. It all seems too good to be true.
I was never able to trust reality. Without the ability to discern from illusion, I simply shrank away in defense. I cut myself off from it all; the real and unreal; both concepts practically indistinguishable from my little stronghold of insanity.
Now I share a world with the sane. I feel a part of it; and not a broken one either. Perhaps dysfunctional as far as society is concerned, but perfectly me. The healthy version of me. Content. Unafraid.

I believe I know where my aversion to spirituality originates, and it’s all based around my disease. In the past, any time I’ve seen, heard, or felt something I could deem ‘god’, well, that was my cue that I’d really gone off the deep end. Such an obvious indication that I feared it with a vengeance. Even moreso if I allowed myself to be deluded; to believe. In the end it’s all turned out to be bullshit, denial, and pure insanity.
That, my friends, is why I do not seek god. Sadly I find the whole concept inseparable from madness. Maybe that can change, though it must be slowly. I’m only now reacquainting myself with normalcy. I’ve got to get a good foothold before I go chasing after divinity. But, it is a possibility in my future.
Not that I’m going to start regularly attending church and praying before bed and every meal. But I am a human being, and like others, I need something I can trust. Something with my interests in mind and the power to save me; to lead me to my destiny.
Though maybe, that something has always been, and always will be me.

–A wolf in sheep’s clothing

Lithos

I never would have given flammable metals any credit until now. The Lithium, I mean. Probably the Risperdone too. I’m a totally new fucking person. I’ve never felt this close to being a human being; To being something that can survive in a world like mine. It only took years. Years to find the right fucking medication combination. I had given up already. I was ready to go; I was ready to leave. Even knowing death is never any goddamn relief. Just a change to some new form of torture. I was ready for the fucking Inferno. Writing my own Divine Comedy. And god have I been through a million Purgatories.
Even at times when I’ve felt decent, there’s always the gnawing fact that my mind never stays in one place for long. Just enjoy it while I can. That was my motto. Enjoy it while I fucking can.
I know it’s only been a few days on the new meds for me. Sure, I’ve taken other stuff and felt better for a while. This is an entirely different animal. I cannot even begin to explain. Birds of prey might see what I see now on a clear day, when the sun is high and a cool wind blows in from the North. Perhaps I’ve always been a bird.

Here’s the kicker. I haven’t had any auditory or visual hallucinations (that I’m aware of) in over twenty four hours. Holy fucking shit. Try living with ghosts at your back, day in and day out. My whole world has been haunted. Years upon fucking years. Speeding ahead while looking only in my rear-view, and seeing that trail of ghosts with miles of nameless days bearing down on me like a Mack truck. In the past two and a half years, I’ve been lucky to maintain reality for more than a few hours at a time. Some breakdowns are worse than others. Some come and go like the wind. All have kept a foot in my door. Medication made it bearable. Nothing more.

But now? Hell, I might even be able to get a job! If I wanted to, which I don’t. Screw that! I might even be able to. . .
I don’t know. I might not be ready. It might not be a good idea. I’ve probably thrown away any chance I had with her.
I’ve picked up the phone a few times today intent on sending her a text, but instead I’ve just sat, staring at the screen, riddling through the past. Right now I have hope. But what if she doesn’t reply? Or worse, what if I get turned down? What if she’s moved on?
This is the only thing that’s really bothering me. And it’s really bothering me. I miss her so much. It’s not that I’d made a wrong decision based on the news of the day. I didn’t know my life may have been ready to turn around.

Fuck if I know.
This entry started on a high note.

Heartbreak is integral to life. The highest love is emptiness longing for something besides itself. I don’t want to forget her, and I won’t. I don’t need her here to remind me. I can carry her or she can walk beside me. One way or another, I’m going to make it through.