Behind the Mask

• Posted by: Maeve Devine
• Created: September 17, 2016
• 0

Raging orange flames licking and hissing,

Dancing, electric and vibrant,

Drastically reduced to ash, the occasional tissing,

Abated, barren and scant.

The engulfing black velvet shroud of depression,

A prickling reminder of the pending oppression.

Physically alive, mentally dead,

The seething serpent of depression infecting every crevice of my head.

Tears roll as I hovel deeper into my murky hole,

Knees drawn to my chest,

This must be some perverse test.

The bellow of negativity is deafening,

Pushed prematurely to my time of reckoning.

The game is over.

The anger gone.

My mind an emotional desert.

A drought with no hope about.

The lights have dimmed,

The music stopped,

The penny has dropped,

The switch is real,

This is my deal.

The relentless powers above have turned the timer,

I’m on a clock,

Intensity increasing,

Desperation soaring,

Grief pouring.

Suicide enshrouds my brain like a delicate veil,

I still hold the power to let my ship sail,

It’s my trump card, I can use it but once,

This is an enticing notion as all else fails.

The Kamikaze bombs drop all around,

Deafening explosions producing no sounds.

I detach further as my suicide plans hatch,

There is nothing left of my life to snatch,

Creeping thoughts evolve into intent,

My time here is spent.

Each battle is spurring me further and further,

To the point of my own murder,

As all else spins out of control,

This is the only thought left to console.

I repeatedly pull myself back from the depths,

Only to survive under constant threat,

I’m losing more of myself with each episode,

Emotionally eroded, living on auto-mode.

I’m addicted to elation,

To a whirlwind world filled with temptation,

Worries dissolve as cognitive function undergoes escalation.

The sense startle awake from their slumber,

The sensorium bloated with hunger.

Serotonin soaring,

The cries of euphoria in my head roaring,

My eyes are mine again,

Emotions ramping from zero to ten.

Ideas racing, vanishing faster than they appear,

Galloping, darting and whisking,

Rarely remaining long enough to become clear.

Running out of ink scribbling to capture the magic,

A candle running out of wick.

Disconnection and dysregulation between speed of thought and projection,

Slurred, agitated speech,

Gasping for air.

Reluctant to share my thoughts,

Are they even there?

My body is a pressure cooker,

An emotional volcanic explosion of excitement pleasure and restlessness,

Self control camouflages these extremes from the public,

But rising from the depths of depression they provide a much needed adrenaline kick!

My brain resembles a bowl of vegetable soup,

Stirred recklessly,

Slop pouring over the brim.

Neurotransmitters strike each other, explode, and release glitter.

My legs jitter.

Excitement bubbles through my blood,

The heart responds ‘thud thud’.

Parasethesia tingles through my every joint,

I have reached my ‘zen’ point.

Positivity seeps through my pores,

Along with dreams of foreign shores.

Life is crystal clear.

I am standing on the pier.

I plunge back into my life.

No fear.

Lyrics describe my life in eccentric detail,

The pace is so accelerated I need to hold onto the rail.

The rhythm flickers through my bones,

My mind leaves no stone unturned.

Inhibitions are lost,

Gone is the layer of frost.

A spellbinding interest in everyone,

Social victories are won.

I am invincible,

Passion and ecstasy to kill.

Emotional power is drawn from admiration of a simple flower,

I am at inner, a place I would never lease.

As time passes, the waves crash,

Sea sickness ensues,

And with it comes a change in views.

The pressure cooker is rocking, the lid unlocking,

A deluge of anger, angst and irritability tick-tocking.

The world around me is too slow,

A fiery temper replaces the dewy glow,

I am my own boss.

I do not accept authority.

I am no longer witty.

My mind is bitty.

Cabin fever yields.

I yearn to be left alone on a shore-line.

Me and my emotions,

Alone we will be fine.

Mentally and physically starved,

Approaching a bleak wasteland,

Vacant, desolate and bland.

I struggle back to my nest..

Anxiously awaiting the capricious homecoming of this pest,

My pest.

My worst enemy, and best friend,

This is not the end.

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