Dancing With Dead Men

True story. Eight years ago I had a really bad manic episode where I became seriously psychotic. I fell in love with a spiritual teacher in America and this whole make believe relationship evolved. In my head he had magical powers. I would hear him talking to me and feel him making love to me. It was so real. But I was so poorly.

I could feel you, my love
But they said you weren’t there
They said it was all in my head
I was unwell
You were one I lived and breathed for
I was dancing with the dead
Mind wide open
Eyes wide shut
Fucking a man who lived in my psyche
Like some kind of rapturous, spiritualist slut
That the churches hate but the devil likes

Relationships are not easy
Maybe I needed someone to hold me
Someone to tell me it was ok
That I was ok
Some full on physical contact
To caress my lonely flesh
To satisfy me the way only
My lonely, aching soul knows best
You were half of my soul
A twin flame
You breathed in another continent
But your lungs belonged here
You had your spiritual fame
New Age spouting from a magnetic mouth
And for all of this shit you put the blame
On me
On my fifty shades of all kinds of crazy

I believed that through enchanted eyes
You watched me
You shifted the laws of the universe
To be with me
You spoke to me in my telepathy head
In stereotypical, happy storybook endings
Through some kind of
Screwed up mystical internet

Then I crashed like a game of Jenga
Tears of fear and desperation
Blown around like dandelion seeds
In a Salvador Dali surrealist creation
Trying to hold on
But my grip on reality was too weak
And my hands, my poor, weak hands

And then
I couldn’t feel you
My heart was beating solo
My mind had sunk so fucking low
They said it was all in my head
Take these pills they’ll sort you out
They said
And within four weeks
You were dead
To me

©2020 Sarah Drury

Lithium Mum

I have bipolar disorder and anxiety, which pretty much rule my life. I am a widow and have a tweenage son, who has Autism. I know it is hard for him, living with a mum like me. I know I do the best I can. I like to think we are souls and he chose this life and it is part of his life path. It feels easier that way. But it is no excuse for a poor childhood, so i just try my best to keep things as normal as I can.

I am sorry for you, son
Sorry that
Each and every day
You have to live
Your fucked up life
With me
Your screwed up
Lithium mum

Necking bottles of
The good stuff praying
It is magic, mending
Melodies I’m playing
On a broken record
I’m just sayin’
There are
Nicer tunes

Mood swings
Psychotic blackbird sings
Are we up or down?
Is it smile or frown?
Are we Happy Valley
Or are we paddling in
The sea in sodding
Suicide town
Or is it a
One way trip
To the
Psych ward?

Every day I say
Today will be a
Better day
and I mean it
‘Til the moods
Fuck up the way
I’m feeling
Brilliant rainbows
Slaughtered of their
Blackened tempers
Cursing, crying
Just my way
Of dealing

I will try, son
I will try

©2020 Sarah Drury

Bipolar Wish

I wish that you could see inside my sick bipolar mind
I wish you could just ride above the judgements of a kind
Where I may seem unstable, flighty, moody, and resigned
To making daisy chains of bits of brain, and then I find
That eyes are staring, no one caring, might as well be blind
My flowers wilting, sadness jilting, trying to leave myself behind
And find a new persona, kill my soul and stab my heart combined
What was the universe’s joke when my crazed spirit it designed?

I wish that you could see inside my sick bipolar head
I wish that you could see how much my insane blood has bled
That some dark nights I fight the scary demons who want me dead
The ghosts of insane battles haunt me, fill my soul with dread
Distract yourself my nurse she says, but harder done than said
At times like these I pray to God and taste her sacred bread
I pray to Jesus free me from the devils that have led
Me to this cage of madness cause my sanity has fled.

I wish that you could feel inside, the radiance that is me
When mania has taken hold, my joy has broken free
I play in heaven, visit angels, joy is all I see
Don’t care who God is whether they’re a she or he or me
I float in dreams of strawberries in cream and make exuberant pleas
To keep me as an angel soaring on marshmallow seas
I’m draped in swathes of love and peace and climbing enlightenment trees
Then God sits down and hands me her crown, we feast on Earl Grey tea.

I wish that you could see inside my sick bipolar mind
For wonders, heartache, pleasure, treasure, miracles you’d find.

©2020 Sarah Drury