zk/writing/poetry/mental-health.md

%title Mental health :writing:poetry:mental-health:

!{In Eigengrau}

''' There is too much fire in me to be described by the soldering iron's tip.

If I were to draw that across my flesh, it would all spill out at once. I'd melt, eaten whole by flames, and flow into a pool of molten silver. I would be borne up through the clouds, and grow lighter by the second. Sublimation would claim me then, atoms would scatter, diffuse. All that energy poured to the air around me, an imperceptible increase in temperature. Particle would excite particle   until I'm felt only as warmth on your face.

But even that would not be enough. '''

---

Heligoland

!{In Eigengrau}

''' Too many wine-dark seas need daily traversal, And here the shipping forecast calls for rain.

The shipping forecast! What a load of bollocks. You can listen from start to finish And not hear a single word about how a day will feel.

Or maybe it's a pale, tired, steganography: Moderate, becoming poor, violent storm 11.

Burning up, drowning, torn by wind, and all I can manage is to tell you southwest gale 8 to storm 10.

I can point at the moon, exhausted, bored, decaying, And hope you don't stare blankly at my finger. '''

Thanks to P.R.

---

Bruise vision

!{In Eigengrau}

I

Geese Level:
Unnerving

Expect:
Anxiety

A hundred geese overhead — A thousand — A million —

Heady scent of premonition. Acrid tang of ill omens. Portents. Too much meaning In too small a space.

II

Geese Level:
Noise-Cancelling Headphones

Expect:
auditory aberrations

Geese are a byproduct of laminar shear stress Of two layers of phantasmagorical Newtonian fluids, Which is why they’re often seen on a plane. A thin, sort-of Truth From a sort of thin layer geese chromatography.

III

Geese Level:
Eldrich

Expect:
red tint to vision; hot flashes

As the dove bears the olive branch, so too the goose bears the wand that withers all it touches. A wand of nightshade, Core of tainted silver. A wand of obscure origin, The goose surely stole it. Malice begets malice.

IV

Geese Level:
Beyond Comprehension

Expect:
confusion; nausea; sweating; racing pulse

We know not the transgression, the origin - We know not the punishment, only the terror.

V

Geese Level:
Excruciating

Expect:
pounding heart; tunnel vision; racing thoughts; black outs; blood pouring from ears

Geas Wing Dark Horizon

VI

Geese Level:
Terrifying

Expect:
tinnitus; piloerection; shortness of breath; uneven gait

I’d rather owls. Owls, as though geese were turned inside out, made less evil. Still portentous, Still momentous, Just less terrifying. Owls are okay. I can think about owls.

VII

Geese Level:
Uncomfortable

Expect:
subdermal itching; formication

Life within a comfortable grid. Parallel lines Interrupting narrowing circles Of birds in flight. Travel in straight lines. Turn at right angles. Trace the roof of your mouth With wet tongue.

I’m not afraid of geese anymore Because I can step on them now. I’m big enough.

VIII

Geese Level:
Birds

Expect:
birds

Ritual thinking Driven by geese — By lines, by grids, by food — By numbers and neat delineation. And I’m left with questions: Why the portents? Why the anxiety? Or maybe: Did I take my meds this morning?

Failing that, Can I just have the comfort of prayer Or the ecstasy of signs Without bleak paranoia Over circling birds?

Thanks to C.M.

---

!{First-place winner of the Typewriter Emergencies Poetry Contest.}!{In Eigengrau}

''' Beneath her coat was a whole identity: A subtle form of ideas under soft fur, A constantly shifting mass of meaning... And somehow, she pulled it off.

She would go for days without shedding a thing, And then, as if a bottle rolling off a counter, She would shatter, sending shards of self flying, And then we'd all see.

Then we'd all see the terror, the joy, Then we'd all see the grief at nothing, Then we'd all hear her say, "I'm not built for a life with death in it."

And slowly, she'd pick herself back up And find a brand new way to piece herself together And build herself a brand new smile And brush out her coat once more. '''

---

Asertu

!{In Eigengrau}

''' Disvolvu mian haŭton el mia karno Verŝu mian sangon el mi kiel vino Prenu mian vivon, tenu ĝin sub via lango: Amara pilolo por gustumi

Bruligu min, entombigu min poste Loku ŝtonon super kie mi kuŝas Lasu tempo manĝi vian memorojn pri mi Lasta peceto por gustumi

---

Unwind my skin from my flesh. Pour my blood from me like wine. Take my life, hold it beneath your tongue: A bitter pill to savor.

Burn me, then entomb me. Place a stone over where I lie. Let time eat your memories of me: A final morsel to savor. '''

---

Rush

!{In Eigengrau} !{In ally}

''' A flash of coppery sweetness, A clearing of the sinuses, A burst of unnamed colors, A rush of creativity, of wonder, Velvety softness, a low hum, And then the wave recedes. '''

---

Cycle

''' Up cycle Down cycle Round and round

Push cycle Pull cycle Round and round and round

Here cycle There cycle Round and round

Bounce cycle Slide cycle Round and round and round

Free cycle Wild cycle Round and round

Unstoppable cycle Uncontrollable cycle Round and round and

Slam cycle Crash cycle And round and

Cut cycle Burn cycle And and round and

Crush cycle Destroy cycle And

Plan cycle Note cycle Rou-

Shower cycle Wash cycle .

Up cycle Down cycle Round and round '''