Monster

I’m in a strange place. The days all merge into one. At any given time I do not know the date even if I have seen it fifty times that day, as I play computer games and “chat” to others on twitter. There are so many things I feel I should be doing. Many poems and stories drift aimlessly through my mind. I cannot grasp the ends of these tales or tasks. I cannot yank them into being. Something concrete does not set.

For the moment I am not seeing the psychiatrist. My last visit, I wasn’t really there. He talked, I didn’t listen. The voices in my head all bickered, throwing up obstacles. I felt he kicked me out yet logically I know he knew he wasn’t getting through. It was obvious.

Now I ask myself these questions.  Should I make another appointment? Would it matter if I never saw him again? Am I still me after all of this??

With autism, schizoid behaviour, multiple personalities weaving their way, together with depression and anxiety, my overactive imagination sometimes sees me as a monster. All alone and a monster to boot!!

Except I’m never really alone, not with all those voices in my head. Even through the antipsychotic barrier my voices still bravely talk, telling me bits of stories and poetry. One day I will grasp the ends and unravel to the beginning and there I’ll find all of me waiting where I’ve always been.

Perhaps this monster does need to make an appointment after all. An appointment with the psychiatrist…………and soon.

 

Copyright September 2015

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Mandala

mandala 001

Mandala coloured in by me.

Template from ColoringPagesForAdults.org

 

 

Stripped to the basics

All we can see are curves

They swirl around

Emitting light at various frequencies

Colours are etched onto our brains

Through eyes taught to see

By repetition

 

Like Pavlov’s dogs

 

We learn to see what others see

Once named we can never reverse

So much remains in the dark

We draw our squares and rectangles

Triangles and lines

Any number of sided shapes

Banish the evil to outside

 

Still we police in corners with brandished light

Whilst knowing all the time

We only see in circles and curves

Light inside dark inside light

They swirl together in balance

In the patterns of the universe

 

 

Copyright July 2015

Sabotage

I board the bus late Sunday afternoon having watched three Alfred Hitchcock films, a B&W retrospective. As I settle into my seat I see a boy, not unlike the bomb carrying boy in Sabotage, clutching a large bag. He holds it carefully, cradling it over every bump in the road. Immediately I am alert and suspicious. We hear things like this on the news all the time, children brainwashed into being martyrs for Allah or God. Granted he didn’t look particularly Middle Eastern but you never know. Be alert not alarmed echoed through my mind. Now which old PM said that??

The more I watch him the more suspicious I become, but before I can decide what to do he’s pressed the buzzer and is getting off the bus. I follow.  He moves carefully along the street clutching the bag to his chest. Now what child does that?? They either drag them or sling them over their back.

As he cuts across a park I speed up to keep him in sight. He crosses the road to an apartment on the other side.  My heart is in my mouth as he places the bag in a doorway. A woman opens up and immediately berates him for being late. He reaches down into the bag and pulls out a kitten.

“Can we keep him Mum?? He doesn’t have a home, I found him in the playground!”

I see her crouch down and pat the kitten before I slink away, drowning in self embarrassment. No more Alfred Hitchcock for me!!

Copyright April 2013