Dark dusky sky
Gulls cry
Gliding by, wings wiping at air
Diving down to thieve
Thoughts of tomorrow
Wasting no worries
On what might not be.
Chest: breathless
Heart: pounds
Head: swimming
Where is this pressure coming from?
Breathe.
Slowly.
Head down.
Get through.
You can
do it.
We need to be respectful
of tender psyches, mental illness,
all the agonies of existence.
We need to be respectful
of our own tenderness
and pained existence.
When being gentle of their tender troubles,
makes aches worse for ourselves,
who needs to respect whom?
Draw battle lines,
or at least find a bastion
against cries
calling you to your destruction,
dragging you to drown in the moat of their fragility.
Be respectful of your own precious sanity.
So often
what I think is a conversation about me
you think is a conversation about you.
My feelings
aren’t just feelings, they’re an attack.
But they’re not.
They belong to me
and they’re allowed to be
what they are.
I long for you to acknowledge
how I feel
what I wonder
what I want
isolated from your sense
of inadequacy.
I’m tired
tired
tired of your issue
always overshadowing
any of my concerns.
Mental illness
is annoyingly
narcissistic.
Please consider other points of view.
It isn’t always about you.
Really.
Sometimes it’s about me.
The dog pulls you down the street.
Your eyes are hazy,
Your hair is wild.
Your beard’s unkempt.
Your steps thud awkwardly like you’ve forgotten how to walk.
If the outside reflects the inside,
you definitely need some time
to regain your health again.
No sneaking
No whispers
No clandestine act
Engine patters
Garage door rumbles
Back door slams
Yet a happy greeting yields hours of anxieties.
Something is not working here.