screaming
as though there are no ears pressed up to my walls of sanity
i'm in disbelief
to see my feet still firmly on the ground
trying to catch my breath but it just won't stop running
silence
Cordelia could not heave heart into mouth
just as I cannot now
if only I had any heart left to give him
why can't you care?
yet I marvel more at the fact
you make apologetic cuppers faster than I can thrust the window open
to breathe in the right air, the new air, the air that isn't intoxicated with you
toast and orange juice
to cure all midnight moments of madness
and I have faith in what my old lady says
for she too used to howl in the shower when she thought the water could race faster than her thoughts
or atleast enough to silence her
late night eclipses without divine intervention
disassociation
O, let me not be mad
Not mad, sweet heaven
Keep me in temper
I would not be mad
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Author:
Jezebel Jones (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 28th, 2017 14:05
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is about my experience with mental health (psychosis in particular) and family life. This poem also references Shakespeare's King Lear throughout.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 51
Offline)
Comments1
Hi Jezebel, I know very little Shakespeare or other poets for that matter. My take on this poem is that you have had mental health problems just as your mother has had. A more experienced poet with a better vocabulary could probably give a much better review than I just have. Good poem though and thanks for sharing
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