mental health

Poem #815

~ Georgia Tell ~ Leave a comment

this sickness
it’s falling
into a vat of honey
first,
you can’t move your limbs
then,
it gets into your mouth
you scream
and the sickening sweetness
it invades you
it’s wonderful and terrible.
you’re in control
but you feel out of control
when it gets to your eyes,
it’s the worst.
you can see what you’re doing
and you can see it’s not helping;
but you can’t do anything about it.

Poem #781b – the three me’s

~ Georgia Tell ~ 1 Comment

the normal one
you see her the most
she’s got her shit together
she goes to work every day
she invests
she smiles when she should
she impresses your mom
she thinks the right thing
she says the right thing
she does the right thing

the depressed one
you hear of her occasionally
she sleeps right after work
she stares at her phone for hours
she cries
she doesn’t even feel like trying
she refuses your invitations
she can’t clean
she can’t survive without help
she hangs on for the other two

the manic one
you think you like this one
she laughs really loud
she is bigger than any room
she lives
she teeters on the edge
she gets on your nerves
she pushes buttons
she thinks the big thing
she says the wrong thing
she flirts with disappearing