Manic Connections

Pages turning, pencils scratching on paper, I was sitting at the side of the lab on a stool, my back resting against a bench. I was watching my breathing, I was watching the students. Counting my breath to entertain myself while they took their anatomy exam. I was making sure no one cheated. Not like I would be able to figure out what to do if I caught someone cheating.

I was lying on the beach huddled up to the American Jew because it was cold and the car wouldn’t start. The (ig)noble savage who sings Dylan songs better than Dylan was on the American Jew’s other side. All of us huddled up together trying to stay warm. Both me and the (ig)noble savage hoping to get lucky with the American Jew. I fell asleep, my snoring kept them both awake.

I rubbed the American Jew’s shoulders. she was laying between my legs. The water rose and I saw a man walking on the water between the mangroves. The beer I had been drinking didn’t get me drunk, it just relaxed my constructs of reality.

I’m in my room in my parents’ house. Now once again my house, I’m listening to the same music I used to listen to when I was 16 and angry. Its loud. I’m screaming along. The door is closed and no one is allowed to come in. I have my Seroquel to bring me down from my mania and my Lustral to bring me up from my depression. Not sure which to take. I’m manically depressed right now. Morbidity vs. this word which means life that I can’t figure out what it is. My therapist labeled it.

These three students try to cheat. I panic, I don’t know what to do. I sort of glimpsed them, I don’t have any hard evidence. I feel everything dissolves around me the three students. Mary, Marwa and May. Cheating cheaters. I want to confront them but I can’t.

I wake up on the beach next to the American Jew. I don’t know if its Mary the cheater or Mona my friend who I am involved with.

I put the music down my cat is in the room, I don’t want to scare him.

I sober up on a bus making its way to Cairo, 11 hour bus ride. I have two hours to see Mona. The Egyptian intelligence is after me because I was hitchhiking with the American Jew and The Indian girl. We were trying to find a sea turtle nesting beach. The Indian girl’s last name means betrayed. The American Jew is a CIA agent. I have to see Mona. Nothing feels safe. Mary cheated, my co-worker is CIA and everyone is trying to fuck with my head. I know safety in Mona’s arms.

I left Mary, a million months later I discovered she cheated on me. I’m whiny and I’m not getting over it. Every story I write is about her. I want to curl up into her arms and to cry and for her to comfort me. I just want to curl up in her arms, feel her stroking my face. Kissing me telling me she’s sorry. I want to forgive her for cheating on me. I want to still be with her.

The antagonist in all my stories is called Marwa, this is my name for Mary in all my stories. She started cheating on me in May. I didn’t leave her because I didn’t have any hard evidence.

Between the mangroves the dugong lies being pecked by the Flamingo as the moon rises. My best friend isn’t speaking to me anymore. I fucked her sister, I feel everything I want to feel towards Mona as I rub the American Jews shoulders.

9 meters under the sea, it wets me with its tears. Another hotel up on the coast. Some Italian tourists are sun bathing on the first sea turtle nest of the season. 12 dugongs left in the Red Sea. One is hiding in the mangroves being pecked by that flamingo. The (ig)noble savage who sings Dylan better than Dylan sings:

“Well, I’m livin’ in a foreign country but I’m bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor’s edge, someday I’ll make it mine.
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born.
Come in, she said,
I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”

Pink

Pink,
cotton candy
sweet, melting
in my mouth
sugar sweet
in my blood
sugar high
hyper manic, tingles down my arm
salmon pink
seroquel
in
my
mouth
pink
tranquil
pink cotton candy in my mouth
dissolving
sugar in my blood
sweet
tingling arms
twitching legs
shaking hands
caffiene and nicotine cravings
smoke shroud
smoke stink
emanating, with
your
every
move
cotton candy
cotton buds
between your toes
pink, painting with your pink
nailpolish on your toes
your cigarette butt
stained
pink
cotton candy pink
melting
in
my
mouth,
sweet
sugar in my blood
sugar high
salmon pink
seroquel
in my mouth
tranquil
pink lipstick
pink lips
pink handprint on my cheek
pulsatting pink
pink nails
cigarette stained
pink
cotton candy pink
pink dress
i
won't
wear
pink handprint
on my arm
cotton candy
in
my mouth
melting
pink
scars on my arms
pink nails glimpsed
when your hand
pinkens
my cheek
between the smoke
your pink
nails
shine
the smoke rises
from your
pink lips
cotton candy pink
pinkening
pink
pink
pink
cotton candy
nails
cheeks
salmon pink
seroquel

Define: Self Harm

Writing in a post drunken stupor. Slightly cringing about the things said and done. Not cringing too much because been there done that a million times since I can remember, the embarassment gets old.
The question of medication comes into mind, would all of this have been avoided had I been on medication?
Too much energy in me, I felt like a nuclear reactor ready to burst onto my white walls. Bubbling under my skin, ready to fizz over the rims of my head if I could just let out some air. The pressure inside me would have eased a bit.
The most constructive handling of this is using hash. An illegal substance (ha ha ha). I can't seem to get myself any for the last month. So a good strong dose of beer, vodka, wine and major social embarassment was the substitute.
I've been on seroquel. It might cause diabetes. I've been on Lustral, Stablon, Zyprexa, Effexor, Tegretol, Risperidal, Depreban, Lithium, Oh sweet lithium, My head turned into a bumpy cube. Something I wish I had taken pictures of.
I woke up remembering the night before, an instant cerebral label kept resounding in my head, "self harm". I got up to brush my teeth and in my head the neon flashing words "self harm". I showered and could hear my therapist's voice resonating, "self harm, self harm, self harm, self harm, self harm"
When I open a bag of chips, I don't think of the triglycerides and artificial additives and think "self harm". When I sit and smoke my shisha, there is no booming voice of wisdom commentating on my actions, "self harm, self harm, self harm". I think "self harm", when I get wasted or when I cut myself. I didn't think "self harm" when I stayed in a badly ventilated lab and got intoxicated from formaldhyde fumes. I didn't think "self harm" when I drove my car and watched the fumes fusing with those of other cars. I didn't think "self harm" when I breathed these fumes. You don't think "self harm, self harm" when you have another cigarette, drink your morning coffee, pop some candy into your mouth. You think "self harm" when you see the scars on my arms, when you watch me drink till I fall flat onto my face, but you don't think it when I take my seroquel and have my morning coffee, and smile at you and life goes on, uninterrupted, quietly and complacently going on with my business. Smile, pain does not exist not even under the surface. There is no surface, there is no under. Another latte'? Another frappe' with extra cream?