This poem is an anomaly for I do not write anymore, or at least that is what I have been telling myself. Capturing thoughts and sensations is a challenge, there was a time when I called myself a poet, certainly I used to love attempting to communicate my experiences through poetry. I always enjoyed the abstract nature of a poem and its capacity for multiple and deep meaning making. However after a period of psychosis, where I was immersed in a state of utter confusion and loneliness, I could not put pen to paper. It was as though the rug had been pulled out from underneath me and nothing I could say had any meaning.
As I have been traveling the hard road of recovery through anxiety and depression I have tried to reclaim my love for writing, slowly I am writing again. I have been struggling to express myself and share my experiences this creates a profound feeling of isolation, even in company.
This poem was written out of the desire to express the depth of feeling in me and a longing to reach out and share something incomprehensible, asking all the while ‘am I the only one?’ knowing I am not. Poetry is good for bringing thoughts into the light, when I write from this place I am mindful of the beat generations mantra ‘first thought best thought’, to write in such a way can open the flood gates and be cathartic.
I am lying in the foetal position
Oblivions scrutiny screws with me
Such chaos leaves nothing to trust
Inner cold claims every good thing
Wounded by sudden thoughts
Headlines designed as weapons
In icy focus
Internal entanglement an insatiable trap
There is nothing I can say
I cry out with gibberish trying to sidestep language
Longing to utter answers unknown
Loosen the bonds and speak truth to desperation
With it the secret ordering of my mind
The morning a cave
To carve out the future again
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