A Place To Rest The Mind
Sometimes we sense the other
Intelligence in our dreams
In our memories
They are there and we know it
Still their existence is a conundrum
A mirage on the wall
Or late at night
One day we might know
But still we will not be certain
If we were able sense
The others
Traveling in my mind
Inside the enclosed room
That is my
Limited mind
I do not know
Very much
Just some empty fragment
On how not to live
This is me
And I have to stand
Who I am
Searching, always
Searching for
Different worlds
Sometimes I find them
Late at night
Evening pleasures
And just like a dream
Soon forgotten in the morning light
Why do I turn
To this illusion
This place
In the universe
Why am I here
No at night I keep asking
The question
The end being near
Endgame is coming
Living with a bipolar partner can be very traumatic. All conflicts tend to be extreme. Whatever you are doing is completely wrong. You don’t deserve any credit for anything. No matter what you have done so far is never enough.
Then after that comes the change. She is so sorry for what happened and what she has done. Then there is a slight chance that you can agree on something. This agreement she might keep or not. But the that is s good start.
Once this pattern has repeated itself enough often. One start to adapt and create strategies for handling it. Eventually however it gets you and you can give up talking about your needs since they are not acceptable if he/ she does not feel well or is frustrated for one reason or another. It can be a family quarrel with a mother or something at work. You will have to carry the burden of that by being the target of aggression and merciless criticism for something completely different like putting the children to bed too late or in the “wrong ” way.
The good guys are gone
Leaving the planet
For the poor and
Therefore evil
To save the world
While the
Rich and beautiful
Went to destroy
A new world
Of fragrance and beauty
May the universe
Cry
Driving through the north outskirts
Mixing old pagan landscapes and
Daft commercial spaces
Here and there Ghettos like
Fortresses on hills
Fast passing them by on the highway
While the snow keeps falling
Making the road risky
And slippery
This is my scene
My so called reality
Still an illusion
However much it hurts
Whatever happens
Happens beyond
This scenery
Inside of us
Here in between
Matter and space
The night is cold
And hostile
Only ice and moonlight
The stars ignores
The little planet and
It’s common sun
The end is far away
Unless we make it the end
But until then
It does not matter
That much
the world turns on a word
I'm just another dreamer...
let's mend the broken
Raku pottery, vases, and gifts
Aspergers syndrome, bipolarity, photography, art, poetry.
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It is all about words. Your words are enough to shatter someone's heart. Your words are enough to make a broken heart unbroken. Words have the power to change your life perspectives.
P_KAY
Because one subject isn't enough
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