A Brief History of Being Unwell

The Space It Takes

It comes in waves 

That's why they say anyway 

But really I think 

It never leaves 

Unchecked 

It festers 

Builds mass

Gathers impetus 

And offers no incentive 

Just takes up 

Space  

until 

It's all you think about 

Grapples your intestinal tract

Or feels like it does 

And Movies by Weyes Blood

Or Isolation by Joy Division 

Know

But yes 

It comes in waves

That forget about mercy and giving a break and then you're drowning 

In your drowning pool 

Between Myself and I

Conversations with 

Myself and I were discussing like two friends waiting for another to show. 

Aimlessly waiting 

for the overcast shadows 

of all who have gone 

On to their end 

I've never seen the pyramids 

I've never seen Niagara Falls 

I've never stood at the open abyss of the Grand Canyon and screamed 

But then I've never seen morning 

With a head clear of pressure 

I've cried so much, though it was easier 

In the past 

I've screamed in the shower

As the water fell 

But laughed until the aches and urine comes 

I am not the poster child of the eternally internally bleak and hopeless

I am somewhere between myself and I 

So we converse. 

Oh Well

There is a well at the bottom of my well

The well where the hope and the fear go

Until it's full and the well spills over 

And leaves me wet but not but not but not 

roused or aroused 

Oh well let me tell you I dipped myself 

Into that well and well oh well I found the plug 

And I drained the well until it was clear 

And took myself to bed

And in the morning when I woke the well was plugged 

And spilling over 

Oh well

Oh well was my choice.

Or was it

Maybe it was 

I dipped myself like the hopeless I know I so often am at the gates of the well at the bottom of my well