At War With Me – Inside the mind of schizophrenia

Schizophrenia cannot be understood without understanding despair.” – R. D. Laing

Alone again, sitting on the edge of shattered dreams

Looking out across the littered landscape
On surreal castaway emotions
Lining up for the battle, players in full effect
No penalty getting called, game plan checked
Time for confrontation
Many people in the same head, crowded conditions
Please raise your hand before speaking
Miserable summations.
We say I’m crazy, I believe we got it right
My friends in my head, they speak at once
Which part of we is normal?

Is this me or we?

 Also published in Broowaha

The Queen – Chapter 2 – The subjects of the Queen

The late afternoon turned to the late night, evidenced by the visible change in both volume and appearance of my queens subjects. The large middle aged blue collar slave, began to morph into, a slicker, more refined slave, those whose love for my queen, gave birth to other interests, like little meetings in the restroom, hushed conversation with obvious handshakes concluding their business. The toll my queen takes on her subjects spurred them on to more devious measures of support for her, their habit. I reached for what I thought was my last 10, and with disgruntled acknowledgment, got a small wad of pocket lint in return. My evening was over, time to make room for the others. I swayed a little when I got up, the servants of my queen were generous in their distribution of libations, knowing that it eased the passage of my money, her money, onto her throne. My breath, in a misty complaint of the cold air, clouded my sight as I walked out into the dull colors of the night. I breathed in deep, sorrow at having to leave my queen. Lowering my eyes, focusing on the crumpled paper blowing aimlessly at my feet, I followed it’s haphazard path down the street away from the throne. I felt the slight tap at my shoulder, it jolted me from my miserable summation, and turning, I see, my queen. Or was it? She had removed her royal garb, her hair a different color, (the wig hanging with her ornaments in the changing room). Her eyes softer, dare I say, innocent, without the heavy colors, the extended lashes, that brought out their seductive gaze from the dark. Speaking a whisper in my ear, I knew, it was her, my queen, her voice had confirmed her bond. She still had control, even in this visage. I knew, in a few soft words, my role of servant, now went to protector…amazing how she can put me in positions that I never thought I could fill. I, the newly knighted slave, threw my coat around her. Come my queen, I’ll protect you, youll be safe with me. This is why I work my mundane, back breaking job, so I might protect her and escape from the listless world that was mine, outside this Queen’s castle.

Related Posts: The Queen, 
Also Published in: Broowaha

Certificate of Insanity

This post is from fellow blogger, Miss Audrey. Enjoy!

I’m trying not to cry,
the tears want to come out,
but I’m holding them captive.
The thought of me being insane
is my only relief.
I don’t want to believe
that this is me being normal :
that would mean that
I would have to live my entire life
with my tears wanting to come out,
with the lump in my throat,
with the rocks I have on my heart.
No, I must be insane,
a passing insanity.
I will go at the doctor,
to put his stamp on the certificate.
It’s only a temporary certificate of insanity.

Longing for a Home

“Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.”David Ogden Stiers 

 Adrift, wood on the water,
longing to be a part of home.
Blowing, a leaf in the wind,
looking for a tree that gave me birth.

I set my soul, my aimless soul,
to catch that wind that drives me home.
Drop the keel, my wayward spirit,
find your peace on the shores of family


Between Two Worlds – Choices

 “What is the point of having free will if one cannot occasionally 
spit in the eye of destiny?”  – Jim Butcher, White Night


I find a journey,
between two worlds,
full of mystery,
as my path unfurls.

With no knowledge,
of whats before,
I choose to continue,
to go through the door.

Where the path leads,
I have yet to know.
I have my purpose,
now I must go.

To stay where I’ve been,
no riches are gained.
Forward I press on,
in spite of the pain.