A Self Portrait As A Mood Stabilizing Medication

A Self Portrait As A Mood Stabilizing Medication

Alli Hawk

 

I am a numbing blanket over the electrical sparks in her brain.
I am a percentage of success, lost hope, life back, empty promises and exhaustion, 

polishing the brain to a shiny pink marble surface;
thoughts are lost at the cost of wobbly stability. 

 

Doctor Edger forces them down a clenched throat. 

Manipulation is what donned me king.
Maybe I'm too good to be true, but no one can know, 

they're too desperate. 

 

Changing her nature in one dry gulp:
humor goes away; memories fade; 

eyes glaze and become lost;
tears squeeze out, fearing she's completely sanded away. 

 

Sometimes she feels empty–
so I make it so she can't stop laughing all day,
laughing to where it hurts,
to where she begs her body to make it stop. 

 

Sometimes I feel rebellious and I embarrass her:
uncontrollable tears in math class
"psycho" breathe her peers.

If the emotion lasts all all day then it’s stable right? 

 

I am a contradiction. 

 

Her life becomes the middle of the ride on the teacups,
not sure how far in or out,
but completely lost, no way to turn it off,
only seeing blurred figures of what once where before the ride started. 

 

I come in different flavors,
each with a different consequence for euphoria: 

perhaps nausea
or life feeding fatigue. 

 

I rip apart families,
slamming doors of the psychiatrist’s office–

secret, in a rough part of town–
open the doors to a suburban parent's oasis. 

 

Brochures, pamphlets, questionnaires–
adolescence is a mental disease.
Once on the hook of despair, the victim is stranded in a dry desert and I

am their mirage.

 

Walk out and you're still in a rough part of town.