A Poem About Manic Psychosis

Racing Thoughts,

Thoughts Disjointed,

Spinning A Tale of Non-Reality.

 

A Rush Of Euphoria,

A State of Bliss,

Can Anything Get Better Than This?

 

Up So High,

Looking Down Below,

At Logic Left Behind.

 

Thoughts Racing,

Spinning A Tale Of Non-reality,

Until the Psych Ward Becomes A Reality.

 

Hallucinations, Delusions,

They Become My Friends,

Comforts Me When My Mind Refuses To Bend.

 

The Ego Implodes,

Lets Loose It’s Desires,

Am I Phantom Or A Vampire?

 

Neither, I am Lying Here,

In A Hospital Bed,

Where Abilify Brings Back The Sharp Memory…

 

That None Of This,

None Of This,

Was Ever Real.

7 responses to “A Poem About Manic Psychosis”

  1. Really well said and constructed.

    Like

    1. FearANDSelf-Loathing Avatar
      FearANDSelf-Loathing

      Thanks so much!

      Like

  2. So that how it feels to be in this state
    no wonder people get too confused
    it seems like some negative entities
    feed you lies for them to be amused
    sounds really hard to fight it back
    when you realize they are not real
    you have made a great step forward
    remember we are right there with you
    even if you don’t see us in the ward.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. FearANDSelf-Loathing Avatar
      FearANDSelf-Loathing

      Thanks for the comment! It was a really confusing period of my life, I never thought I could actually hallucinate and have delusions like that while completely sober. The mind is a miraculous and scary thing. Sometimes, in my case, it flips itself on its head. And its reassuring to know there are others right there with me.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I’m glad to read that you have become stronger than that!

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I LOVE it! . . and totally relate!

    I wrote a poem about psychosis too! It’s called, They.

    They

    They’re always around
    I’m never alone
    They’re on my TV
    They’re inside my phone

    They rearrange objects
    All through my home
    They switch apples to oranges
    Or brushes to combs

    They conceal their identity
    Never reveal their true face
    Morphing from fat to thin
    At a jaw-dropping pace

    Fleeing outside
    Provides no relief
    They’re perched on the rocks
    They’re under each leaf

    I take to the road
    Hoping to flee with my car
    But they control all the gears
    I never get very far

    Outside, inside
    Awake or asleep
    Over and under
    Shallow or deep
    Ale round, behind
    Ahead, beside
    Out in the open, they masterfully hide

    This game is exhausting
    Played by rules I can’t see
    Maybe one day I’ll embrace that
    “They” are inside of me

    I hope you enjoyed my poem and can relate. You can read more poems and stories about living with Psychosis on my blog at http://www.breathingwithanoose.com.

    I would love any feedback, comments, or suggestions.

    Like

    1. FearANDSelf-Loathing Avatar
      FearANDSelf-Loathing

      This is awesome! I love it and the poem has great rhythm

      Like

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