Schizoaffective bipolar type is hell’s disorder.
It is a whirlwind of the curious mind.
A fusion of emotions, brick by boring brick.
Thoughts askew and twisted like twigs.  

Mania, depression, and psychosis sleep together.
Producing a break out of pandemonium.
Exulting energy, dejection, and voices taunt.
A battle within that seems to haunt.

Medication and therapy, tools of aid.
Will tackle hell’s disorder and put it in Pandora's box.
Be wary and do not open it no matter what.
Or the symptoms will crawl over every inch of your skin.

Put the pain in the past because you can still live your life.
You can work a 9 to 5, go on hikes, travel, and ride a bike.
What is something you look forward to? They always ask.
I sigh and answer: freedom.

I am no longer afraid of the night
Or of death
For I have danced across the stepping stones
In darkness
And not fallen in.

Hangman is a great game.

It teaches us that saying the wrong things could end someone's life.

There is life breathing

in the darkness, I hear it --


blowing up my fear.

Imagine a treadmill
for your brain.
That never stops
speeding up.
Slowly, at first,
you savor each step.
But boredom pushes you
faster and faster.
No longer tasting.
Only inhaling
the adrenaline.
Because unless you find the next page,
the next post,
the next video,
you risk facing
the combined gravity
of reality
converging upon a single point
of agony.
And so you scroll.
To keep stress away,
the roaring anxiety at bay.