Category Archives: Poetry

Bipolar described in poetry. By Nina

When dreams and reality mix; my mind twist space n time.

Sentences in my mind incomplete and jumbled.

The pain is unbearable and I can’t focus.

The thought train is overwhelming grandiose negative paranoia.

I lose track of myself and memories begin to be erased.

Chase down 3 seconds of comfort; only refuge from this place.

Alone with my screaming demons, what is the reason.

Enhanced senses, feeling too much and too deeply.

Dreading the next breath I’m light headed.

Subconscious embedded schizophrenic essence.

Tears run down my face, my lover can’t help be afraid.

Interlaced emotions continue to confuse, I’ve lost my view.

Distrusting earth, corrupting everything I’ve seen from birth.

There’s nowhere to run or hide. I continue to gun this fight.

I’m a soldier fuck this shit. I’ve done this shit a hundred times.

Switch my mindstate from afraid to irate.

I’m right the world is Fucked Up…

I’d Love to make it better tomorrow just weather this storm.

This isn’t even real, what I feel; it’s chemical sorrow.

What good is a good day without bad ones. I’m attached to this aura.

I’m glad I can come out on top….

I was trapped and caught up….

Strapped to a mattress and shot up…

 

Nina

About me :) Pt. 5

I’m 50 days clean and sober which is more than I can honestly say I’ve ever done in any past attempts. When my anxiety gets bad I think how far I’ve come from being homeless just a few months ago to a beautiful apartment in my most desired neighborhood…

I liked to party… or maybe a more serious way to put it, I liked to get Fucked Up… and also self medicated in extremely dangerous mixes of substance and situations, seriously Fucked Up situations I put myself in to do so. I can’t begin to describe how lucky I feel to be alive. Daunting memories and situations I have to try to deal with and leave in the past.

Lucky for me, after um… using random shit for 10 years or more, I never died in my sleep nor physically hurt anyone other than myself as far as I know. I worry so dearly about all the people I grew close to and It’s great to see my close friends in a recovery zone too, we’re all in this together and nothing is easy to do alone.

Art is so important, expression and the act of simple creativity. That’s an addiction I can never, ever… leave behind. Blogging has been a great outlet, something to look forward to when I wake up, read articles and poetry and sharing a little bit of what inspires me and keeps me grounded. I’d say it’s played a positive role in my life, recovery (whatever you want to call it). I don’t think blogging about my experience in the streets is in store anytime soon but I thought it would be a nice note to leave the world that… I’ve been through a lot but, I’m doing better than alright.

Peace n love.

Nina

Her Cove~Flash Fiction

 

There was a natural horseshoe-shaped cove carved out of the jagged rocks. The water gently lapped against them quieted by the formation. One summer she found a very large piece of driftwood that had landed across the inlet affording her a comfy seat upon which to contemplate. As she sat watching the string of seals making their annual trip down the coast to for warmer waters, she felt the tension and stress leave her. This was her refuge. Many spots in the natural world were to her, sacred space where she could find herself again and center her spirit

Source: Her Cove~Flash Fiction

Untitled – Nina

Stopped for a moment, your pause awaits response.

I reply simply a clause initially flawed; you gaze in awe.

I have guideline on my timeline refined rhymes that define: I

Raps attached to gun toting n exploding that are of a frozen stat.

Love infinite; dismissed diminishing oblivious differences.

Opposing that.

I break the chains of the vicious cycle malicious carnivorous.

Do you have a moment to change fate? My pen n pad a gateway….

Man-made, stake-claims, fake-gains of “dollar bills”.

You got to.

“main-tain”.

 

Right.

-Nina