Tag Archives: psychosis

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.


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For my Mother

You told me that I admit a glow.
Just like the sun. Just like the sun.
I was the light of your world like a ray of hope.
And I’d love to bring that smile on.

You’d combed your hair and just for me.
And sing those songs. Those childhood songs.
Your pills stuffed under bed railings.
Your days are long. Your days are long.

Change before you break
Your behaviour’s at stake
You’re getting nowhere fake
But the ashes you’ll make.

Your freedom is hidden in an urn
Your ashes burned
That I never came to claim.

I’m the reason that you’re dead
Your letters I has read
But never responded.
I didnt respond.

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Blood-stained bench seats

Try to sing a song of control
Though our ultimate goal
Is to run away.
This road could lead to the end
Spelling secret revenge
If I could just stay awake.

The only words I’ve ever come to find
Are a curse at life the penultimate fine.
Drift away before the A-bomb blows.
Huddle inside your happy place,
Give up your only semblance of grace,
Double helix secrets shed from your veins.

But no, there’s no going back
Too much work to unpack
What I need to survive.
But still, it won’t be enough. . .
I must have died at some point
Along the road.


Filed under poem, poetry

My Visitors

Here at the center
Things go slowly.
The crowd moves on
To something lonely,
With movements so bright
They don’t belong in the night.
Every inch a mile
With their feet to defile.
They came and went
Like travelers spent
And spoke to me of mysteries. . .
That the empty road of history
Lives in my heart
Without reason to depart,
As I’m broken and cursed
With no time to rehearse
The end,
So they left me then,
Singing of the day
In such a morbid, atrocious way
That I can never see the sun again
Without their coiling means to repent.
My sparks don’t fly
And I’ll never light up the evening sky
Like they do
With their flashing moves.
I’m lost in the gloom
And searching most desperately
For escape from my doom.

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Filed under poem, poetry, psychosis

nt555555555555554 (Says Rudie)

My days have not been easy since coming home from the hospital. After turning away from suicide I’ve had to start rebuilding my life. Not much to work with, really. Somehow I’ve managed to get my house cleaned up. I’ve felt a little better with all that dust and clutter gone. I still remain in a moderate state of depression. I’m taking all my medications as prescribed. I asked my doctor to take me off the soma. It’s all too tempting, and I’d managed to develop a little addiction. No withdrawals as far as I can tell. Sleeping good on the trazadone. It’s often prescribed to prevent nightmares. Soon after I started taking it, the nightmares and cold sweats went away. I’m thankful for that.
Yesterday morning when I woke up, I felt just like I’d chugged two bottles of cough medicine. Not a feeling I was enjoying. I took an extra risperdal and felt better within an hour. I think I’m going to ask the psychiatrist to double my dose. What I’m on isn’t cutting it anymore. I’m also going to speak with him about how I’ve been feeling. Still, I’m afraid we may have reached a limit as far as what medication is capable of doing for me. I’m on a lot of shit as it is.
Loneliness is yet another issue I’ve been dealing with. This morning, I sent Michelle a text. I’m desperately hoping she’ll take me back. I know she just can’t handle me when I feel my worst. I’m willing to accept that. She’ll just have to stay away from me when I’m feeling psychotic. I doubt she’s willing to take me back anyway. It probably doesn’t matter.
Thankfully, the sun is out today, and I’m in my right mind–for the most part. I continue to feel a little off. Colors are fascinatingly bright. My consciousness seems to have moved half an inch to the left. It’s hard to explain. So long as my symptoms don’t get any worse, I’ll be able to manage.
I’m sure I had more to say, but my short term memory is experiencing glitches. No choice but to stop here.



Filed under mad ruminations


Slipping far from disillusion,
Falling long behind,
Careening towards dissolution,
A million fears ignite.
More lost than sane.
More damned than saved.
There are no handholds
In empty space.
I’m gone this time
God knows I tried.
No hope or prayer
Has come to light.
Slipping far from disillusion
Surrounded by your ghosts.
Heading straight for dissolution,
That thing I crave the most.

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Filed under poem, poetry, psychosis

Sushi Monsters

Life has not been good for me these past few days. I’m down for the count. Hallucinations, strange feelings, nightmares, and being completely unable to understand when a person speaks to me, are just a few of my symptoms. I had been taking my medication religiously but it seems to have been rendered useless in the wake of this nightmare. Now I can’t keep up with when I’ve taken it and how much. Everything’s just a big mess.
I’ve spent most of my free time curled up in bed. I haven’t felt like eating or going anywhere. I’d say I’m completely paralyzed. The world is caving in around me. Literally. I can see it happening. Closing my eyes doesn’t help, it only makes the hallucinations more vivid. This sucks.
Michelle came over on Friday night, because I hadn’t answered any of her texts or phone calls. I think she was alarmed to see me in this state. Nevertheless she was as sweet as she could be and stayed by my side until morning. Since that night she hasn’t come back, we’ve been communicating via distance only, which leads me to believe I really scared the hell out of her while she was here. Part of me is worried about losing her, the rest of me is stuck in some twisted landscape devoid of any human contact.

I knew that one day, sooner or later, psychosis would rear its ugly head again, so I’m not surprised that this has happened. I’m afraid no medication is going to fix this. My life is truly lived on the threshold between the real and unreal, pleasant and terrifying, spoken and unspoken, written and unwritten. I guess in a way, that still makes me a shaman. One you don’t want meeting your children.

(I had originally started this post yesterday morning, and was interrupted by a phone call for a job interview. Of all times! I somehow managed to shower and make my way to Paducah, where I scored the glamourous job of working in the kitchen of my favorite sushi restaurant. We’ll see how long I enjoy sushi now. I go for training tonight and I’m praying I don’t have a mental breakdown in the midst of it all.
Really, in a way this has pulled me out of psychosis a little. Having to put on a happy face and go out into the world yesterday did me some good. I hope it will continue to do so. Still hearing the occasional odd whisper. Still seeing those random shadows grow and pulsate. Better than it was. Maybe things will continue to improve.)



Filed under mad ruminations


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.

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Filed under briley, death, depression, distance, lithium, love, mad ruminations, schizophrenia, suicide

Flashback 6

Heaven has
A Divine

September 17 — 11:25 AM

I saw the psychiatrist for the second time this morning. I can barely recall seeing him the first time, but I must have, him being the only one able to prescribe medication in this place. He remarked how much better I seem to be feeling. Fuck yes I feel better. Worlds better. He told me that I might be able to go home today, depending solely on what my roommate has to say, of all people.
Well, we’ll just see how this goes down.
I decided this morning that I could handle staying another day if I had to. And no anger. No rage. No tears either. Damn Lithium. Haha!
Am I finally myself or the opposite?
Did “God” make me crazy and mad with rage? Or was I born to be healthy and strong? Has nurture, not nature, caused all my sufferings?
However you look at it, is it possible that divine order ISN’T to blame?

Overwhelmed my

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Filed under flashback, hospitalization, mad ruminations, schizophrenia

Flashbacks 4 & 5

Trans-dimensional estimations
Fall short of several suns.
Burning like heated projections.
Trajection, but which direction?
Too much to unravel
For singular lonely travelers
Like this only son.
“”September 16 — 8:50 PM

Oh boy, a roommate!
“I get nightmares.” he says.
“Well that’s understandable.” is my reply, but meanwhile I’m thinking, “Well, that’s just great!”
Even though I do understand. All too well.””

My hospital roommate was alright actually, and although I didn’t know it, I only had one night left in that place anyway. He didn’t have nightmares that night because, as he later told me, he didn’t manage any sleep at all. I didn’t get much myself, and he wasn’t at all to blame for it.

“”September 17 — 3:25 AM

Can’t sleep, although my roommate has been pretty cool and minimally disturbing. He told me his brother had recently hung himself and that he’d just been a little messed up and a lot overwhelmed ever since. He has given the nurses absolute hell since he arrived and I’ve secretly enjoyed seeing it all unfold.
I believe what’s keeping me awake is the Lithium. And what a dream! Brothers, ATV’s, swimming pools, and cellular obsessions. I’ve been dreaming of brothers a lot. As an only child it makes little sense but as a Gemini it means something to me. Based on what I know about myself, this is a sign of a true, new, inevitable conjunction, or perhaps a schism?
Something must change. This I know. Whatever shifts in the darkness of subconscious renderings is meant to be. Unavoidable. Meaningful, somehow.
But what does it mean for me?””

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