Musings from the Borderlands (BPD)

Tuberculosis in those gasping fits of indulgent wheezes spraying the viscous life goo out in a spray. A misting of not so mild proportions even if the emotional fluid is less clingy initially than blood, it still latches on and shows up in the worst of spots.

The time you decided to gauge your ears and that a pen was the logical jump – pressure couldn’t hold back the infection, or the stable nutrient sludge from leaving a heavy velvet trail down the side of your neck.

Pressure can’t hold back everything, it builds on itself until there’s a raucous and feverish exhalation as the balance shifts and pop there goes the cap.

Just so with love in the quieter stages of a new relationship where urgency tears apart at your genitals, your heart, your mind, and all you want to do is sleep and talk and fuck and cuddle and touch and gaze and there’s a missing component sitting at the back of your mind whenever you’re not around the object of your infatuation soon to beget something more….

It’s an incredible array of emotions that comprise us as people in this world, so much so that the involuntary act of vomiting up a tempest of undigested feels and such onto another can be as easily described in the lead in as something detestable, rather than beautiful.

I know I like to think to that moment when the dam breaks and truest of joys radiates in a way that lets energy ripple its way across the lips and my skin seems to be afire with passionate rightness….love, or anger, sometimes they can be dual sides to the same ride, a peaceful lake to a jet boat ride or some such adrenaline rush.

But man, when I look into those eyes.

I still melt.

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BPD Splitting

If it were to be the way that BPD were,

You’d be a goddess or a demon all cut pure,

In gleaming shards of perfect,

You’d hate with everything,

You’d love without anything in reserve.

There would be no middle ground,

No gray area to be common found,

I’d split your single you into two,

Burn effigy of the one not true,

Until the times they changed again,

And I realized that you were my truest friend.

Thank God you’ve showed me to look beyond,

Hear the words your actions write,

When ears signal music to a different song,

You’ll remain imperfectly perfect,

Beautifully flawed,

Like us all.

Crack Pipe Peter Pan

Peter Pan Syndrome with Wendy
Peter Pan Syndrome by Gwenhyvere all rights to them.

Call it Peter Pan on a crack pipe flight,

Overseen by angels and whispers of devilish delight.

Carve wanton whiptails in the air,

Playacting as children with zero care.

Feel the rush of blessings given free,

Thank the wisdom that kept you from me.

Lovesick – BPD on Day 2

Purging of love by force

Lovesick

Why is it that my words echo with such deep longing and feel so true,

But my actions call to task each syllable, each letter, each sentence,

Make me a liar in my own eyes, and shame me to the one I love.

Why is it that I regret each moment of time that I connect to another,

When I know that it will end in tears, that it will end in sadness, in another broken heart,

Because inside I never seem to change from the disgusting thing I’ve always been.

Why is it that the outside which feels so pure and grasps for grace blessed with integrity is so sweet,

When foulness runs afoot on seconds of impulse, chased spots of purgatory, whims of fancy,

Forever haunting myself with the tastes of beauty that I want the world to see me for.

That I think I can be.

But I deceive myself worse than all the rest.

I can never change.

So it seems.

And only God can forgive me in the end.

For I can never forgive myself.

-S

Crazy by the Numbers- thanks DSM (official)

296.43 meet 314.01 and 301.83….you’ll mesh well with the periodic cocaine and amphetamine induced psychosis.

More info, more “understanding” – knowledge is worthless without a way to apply it. Anyone else deal with frustration of the labels on labels that get applied to them via the doctoral circuit?