Conniving Imbalance


Every action has an equal and opposite reaction,
This despite indefatigable efforts,
Has proven itself true,
At least for the realm of science,
Yet it would seem,
The same is true of our actions,
Despite the laws of science and nature,
The unintended consequences,
Or collateral damage,
Leading us down a path of social Darwinism,
Where the rules are as transient and varied,
As there are people on this earth,
Competing vision,
Notions,
Ideas,
Diametrically opposed opposites,
Polar if you will, BiPolar,
Such that I consider what action caused my current affect.

I whole heartily believe it was an accident,
When I was thirteen,
My stubborn head,
Bouncing off the pavement of my exclusive boys school,
Parochial if I may,
Though there is no arnica that can fix my proverbial brain bruise,
To you,
The casual observer,
I may even seem normal,
(TRUST me, no one that knows me would call me normal)
The reasons evident for this are simple,
What ails me does not manifest for eyes to see,
Ears to hear,
Mouths to taste,
Noses to smell,
And your hand cannot touch what ails me,
What is invisible to you?

Invisible to all,
Is hell for me,
For what ails me is manageable,
Not curable,
At least not for now,
If fortunate,
And I have done so well,
These words may offer you insights into what I am going through,
Spitting toxic vitriol,
Free from inhibitions,
Allowing myself the luxury of pure and innocent truth,
That is dark and deviant within me,
These words are my truth,
They are the signposts for what it means to be me,
What it feels like to be me,
Why I have removed myself from city life,
And run for the country,
Countries,
Laos,
Where the air is fresh, the scenery is lush,
And for at least an hour each day I feel at peace.

Choosing my battles,
I bat away all suggestions,
By my psyche, ego or my id,
That I and I and I cannot reclaim my life,
Fighting though I must and do,
Daily,
Transient voices,
Powerful hallucinations,
All of which I battle,
On my own,
Having played the pharmaceutical card,
Only to discover it made it hard,
Harder, for me to cope,
For I do not care for you to feel this pain,
I do not care for you to see what it does to me,
The ravages of mind, body and soul,
Seemingly my possessed intelligence,
Conniving with some force out there,
I call it the Ether, the Universe or Karma,
Having no faith in what others consider God,
Choosing instead to have faith in science,
Science that is neither precise nor understood,
Plodding around in my chemical imbalances,
Have faith in the answers I am given,
Though they are always prefaced with a,
“We don’t quite know how it works, but it does.”

Initially I hid behind a mask, a costume, a uniform and in the shadows,
No more,
I have decided that to stay the course,
Means to be brutal and frank in my honesty,
That not only you may appraise,
But so too can I,
These days of manic disaster,
Where I persevere.

SDM

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