Flash-backs of Mania

Just visiting me manic again: In Paradisium. There was so much more to it than this. (More posts, too!) I remember wanting to be one with the universe and angels giving me messages that told me the secret to the universe. They did this straight into my brain. I felt I knew everything and I was a peace with the entirety of creation.

(It seems I end up here in the Fall. I think its the light changing, but nobody believes me. Hopefully, I can stay out of the hospital this year in September/October/November.)

And yet it was more than this: I thought angels were giving me messages but I also thought aliens had abducted my friend, K, and had taken over his mind and body. I thought, therefore, that he was an alien. I thought I could fly. Every time I saw the doctor in charge at the psych. hospital, he'd ask if I could fly, and I'd reluctantly say yes and then no and then yes again.

Reading this post doesn't given you a good idea. You have to go back and read how disjointed the originals are. The lights outside that I describe, too, called to me, shining brightly in the rain. That was the day I went to the psych. hospital last October. I recall wanting to feel the hard metal of the cars making contact with me and then breaking my bones. The light poles stationary, taking the force of my body and the warped metal of the car at the same time, as we tried to take up the same area of space. It was a cold, slow dance, I envisioned, with the wipers tocking back and forth in the rain. I wanted the heightened sensations. I needed every nuance: each step I took, the feeling of the cold metals, becoming one with it all- the heightened mania that NEEDED the desperation of it all, yet the floating detachment of each footstep.

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Whirling Wipers

Walking through the fog I breathe in its viscosity. The cars drive one way- a wiper swipes- then the other whooshing by. They don't exist. I can walk between the most and air as it overburdens my lungs, thick. The air blows around my ankles and is soothing.

Whirling through the cars like the fog. Like the ghost that I am. I don't exist. Time changes. Every bit of what I am and was and could be are now one. I take another step. One. Two. The lights change. The fog lays low, cuddling around the hard bright surfaces of metal. I step again. Red.... Green. Step. Whoosh! Honk! I am free! Time and I are one. I step again.... Breathe in that thick air. Stop.