psycobable

[elazar]

i was retarded
speakin psycobable

i was hallucinatin
sea reachin for the sky
it was so confusin
did everybody die

i heard things that seemed
so very loud and clear
paris hilton i dreamed
was sittin very near

i thought i had survived
the apocolyptomania
and all were revived
through my ghostly-godly crania

i was freezing when i woke
walked peering through the hall
no garment or cloak
then returned to my stall

they put me in a 'blance
they locked me down tight
in a stupified trance
i wandered day and night

so now im bipolar
and doin real well
on meds and a shrink
it might be hard to tell

i am retarded
speakin psycobable

[jimbo]

elazar your not handicapped with bipolar
your fuckin special ................
if you take your medication'

pm me im bipolar 6 years

[Byron]

elazar and jimbo, I wrote a poem in here a few years ago which touches on this piece by your poem and jimbo's response. The title is To My Prison Psychiatrists.

To My Prison Psychiatrists


They’ve read the books
And done the tests
They’ve looked inside my emptiness
They’ve turned each page
And scanned the lines
To weigh my worth
Compared my crimes
They know me well
Their eyes unseen
Do they dream the dreams I dream?
Have they screamed the screams I scream?
I think not
I think not
Take your tomes
On brains and bones
Take your texts
And write abstracts
This soul is not for learning.

Several years in undiagnosed BP. Now kept level by chemicals for the past 2 years.