this head of mine

I can’t keep up with this head of mine

That stockpiles sorrow in the back of my skull

That roasts my eyes until they’re charred, black, and dull

A rotting, festering brain like this

That sinks my consciousness into nausea and nothingness

I can’t keep up with this head of mine

That resigns my ears to vengeful hissing, spitting, and ringing

That poisons, panics my lungs, each breath wet and stinging

A rotting, festering brain like this

That furrows my body with acidic erosion, a sinewy apocalypse

I can’t keep up with this head of mine

That blankets rank sludge and wet rubbish wall-to-wall in my gut

That laces grit and grime through my mouth, wiring my bloody gums shut

A rotting, festering brain like this

That pollutes, electrocutes, and carves angry grins into my wrists

I can’t keep up with this head of mine

That pummels my heart into a mishmash of innards and debris

That grips and rips my shoulders until it shakes my soul free

A rotting, festering brain like this

Isn’t worth saving, or loving, just flood this fucking cranial abyss

I can’t keep up with this head of mine

That’s broken and gnarled and sick all the time

And I can’t help but wonder if it’s really bipolar that’s rotting my brain

Or I’m just a terrible, burdensome being that’s actually quite sane

I want to turn off my thoughts and cry until there’s nothing left to say

And lie down in the sewer and watch myself ruthlessly decay.

I can’t keep up with this.


If you’d like to support my work please consider contributing to my Patreon. Thanks!

Dr. Rachel KallemWhitman

Written by

Educator, advocate, and writer who has been shacking up with bipolar disorder since 2000. The “Dr.” is silent. The bad jokes are loud.

Invisible Illness

We don't talk enough about mental health.

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