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Tag Archives: stress

Am I am… is I am?

££££-CHANTELLE HOUGHTON

Here we go with the same old shit

DamnIT, I thought I was done with it,

Tired again, and yet looking for more

From where or for what? I am not sure.

Once again my ideas are cloudy and shaded

my love of everything has somewhat faded,

This manic thinking draws out the stress

there’s no worse feeling than that, of a total mess.

Just when you think everything is all in its place

that neat package of bullshit blows up in your face.

I underestimate how manipulative and strikingly strong

why bother fighting? Much easier to just play along,

The more I try to control those big voices inside

the more they resist, defy and begin to collide.

A complete waste of time, is building a defense

made up of lies and a cocktail of antidepressants,

As much as I attempt to change who I am,

I am reminded that I am, who I am, and that’s all I am really am…. huh?

 

 

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Why I am so tired.

Been away for a while.

I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere and got a little misplaced.  One minute I was out for a walk smelling the flowers and next thing ya’ know I was talking to strangers, eating things I was uncertain of, and drinking potions that smelled funny….  it’s downright maniacal how our mind works….                  ?

One minute you feel like everything is aligned, on track, in a routine.  Then blast.. complete chaos.  All going on inside my little head.  Feasting on anxiety and irrational thoughts.  I got stuck like a fly in a spider web, unaware it was in trouble until it was too late, it’s been wrapped up to die a slow death, until it is time to be devoured.  Barely enough time to analyze what had just happened, with little to no time to compile and list all of life’s regrets.

You know that feeling you get when your hair stands up on the back of your neck? All the senses in your body go completely haywire and start to short circuit, when you are afraid something might be right behind you amid running up the basement stairs?… Imagine that feeling for 5 minutes solid in a straight jacket.  No.  Seriously, close your eyes and imagine that fright tingling in your fingertips and all the way from your frontal lobe to the tip of your toe….

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My life in a nutshell, is what you’re feeling.

I’m exhausted…

Good Night.

 

© 2018 Joseph Emerson @ WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 

 
22 Comments

Posted by on February 21, 2018 in Mental Health, writing

 

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Sleep paralysis

Mystifying and cryptic. 

Gloomy and apocalyptic….

 

This is how I envision

the theater in my head,

Feelings of the colors

black, drab and dark red.

Barbed wire around my lungs,

stabbing, restricting as I breath.

Fluid inside my heart turning black,

Boiling vigorously begins to seethe.

 

Dark dressed figures are filing in,

organizing a vast congregation.

Eerily anxiously waiting for,

a humiliating public castration.

Never given an adequate chance

to stand or walk tall,

Beaten down relentlessly

they forced me to crawl.

Similar to being stuck in a dream,

trying to fight but feeling too weak.

Opened my mouth attempting to scream,

only to find I can’t even speak.

 

Escaping to a hot desert scene

where I’m lying on the ground,

longing for a sudden death

as the vultures circle ’round.

I finally awake

as my eyes spring open,

Overwhelming panic

as my body lies frozen.

Cannot move or think

wanting to yell,

ultimate fear comes to life

as I’m stuck in this hell…

 

 

© 2018 Joseph Emerson WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 
41 Comments

Posted by on January 14, 2018 in Mental Health, poetry, writing

 

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Rhythmic Tapping

“Snap”

“Slap”

“Rap”

“Crack”

“Ding” sounds the margin bell, helping the word-slinger acknowledge it is time to give a lusty push on the carriage return bar of the typewriter, thus not to let the words fall off the edge of the page.  Rejecting pause she keeps on typing, as there is unquestionably no indications of slowing down or shortfall in stride or procreation.  A hint of a pleasing aroma amuses her nose from the coffee that lies in her “Life is Good” captioned mug.  Ice cold.  With all intentions of contentedly sipping, after it had cooled down a bit, she placed it upon the coffee table and there is dwells, dismissed from her mind as she rejects all other encompassing senses and obligations.  She tenaciously advances her attack.  Punching each key, setting into motion the sequence of letters, into words, into sentences, into a culmination of emotion driven intoxication!

She lets out a sigh as she relaxes all of her limbs and muscles as she falls back into her chair.  Letting the anxiety and discomfort leak into her soul as she now realizes that she must……. proof read and go through the brutal gauntlet, of the persecuting editing phase of a writers work! LOL

Anyone ever feel like this?

 

 

© 2017 Joseph Emerson WhatsInsideAMadmansHat.com

 
12 Comments

Posted by on December 6, 2017 in writing

 

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