Archive for ‘mental illness’

July 7, 2019

oddly

by jhon baker
probably contains a poem
June 15, 2019

cope

by jhon baker
September 19, 2018

A post

by jhon baker

August 16, 2015

am not asleep

by jhon baker

been awake too damn long and I’m sick of it.

nothing to do with the cup of coffee I just poured myself in one of my Vincent mugs.

I suppose it isn’t that late but I am hungry and looking for my angry fix.

I haven’t been sleeping well.

and the windows have faces that I can’t comprehend.

I put on my goggles and peer out into the darkness of the backyard sitting next to my wife who is equally as perplexed as I am but today I did not forget my medications.

I still feel the world spin and note the stench of cigarettes and dying sunflowers.

better than earlier when I could scent out the unique putrefaction of several birds finding only one feather.

but the couch got moved.

generally enervated and bone pain sick of it.

half-banana moon, toothpicks on the highway, sick of it.

skin falling off and miswriting sin, a lack of croutons in soup, sick of it.

tattoos, assassinating public figures, the FBI comes and visits me at six am, sick of it.

or I am in stir, a padded room with nothing but this white computer and the insatiable need to sleep.

or I am in a wheat field with crows thinking about a .38 special.

or I am in bed, lying prone, ready to fire with a hard-on and magazine dreams.

add a new category.

eleven: forty-six pm – my eye lids are heavy and I am over tired.

goodnight.

goodnight.

goodnight.

August 15, 2015

Time won’t let me go

by jhon baker

August 15th – 11:33 prime meridian

time won’t let me go.

memories don’t fade fast enough for some people.

the world is so difficult to give up and I’ve a fully loaded six shooter

shooting .410 bore shotgun shells next to me as I write this.

I’m freshly cleaned and glistening with cleanliness.

 

I am at the right hand of god prepared for revolution;

my nails are clean as I’ve cleaned them also.

 

days go by like cars on a highway and I don’t know what to do with them,

I hide in my home with too many rooms unused and too much carpeting to vacuum.

catatonia,

and I order toast with marmalade.

%d bloggers like this: