It takes every part of me to make the words escape my mouth. “You must stop this,” I yell at the burning man. “Breathe, you must.” He inhales air filling his lungs to capacity, releasing slowly. Everything all around slows, slowly at first. With his every breathe the blurry images passing us by begin to take shape.
“If only, if only,” the young mother sighs, “I did all the chores;” there’s hope in her eyes. She washes and foldses and relocates toys. She vacuums and bleaches and … Continue reading If Only, a poem about motherhood
This is a free verse poem I wrote because I have been struggling with my PTSD lately. This poem is for anyone that has ever been hurt before. I hope … Continue reading Empty Your Pockets
I wanted to preface this poem with a “trigger warning,” this is a poem I wrote about suicide and depression recently, at this time I am NOT depressed or suicidal. … Continue reading A Depression Poem – By J.E. Skye
Another influential writer in my own life Hemingway had a long history of mental illness. Hemingway, known at the time as the most celebrated American Writer, but had his demons he was fighting over the course of his life.
September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month I will be writing a post a day about suicide prevention and awareness on my blog My Loud Bipolar Whispers for my campaign Remember in September. … Continue reading Darkness Swallowed Me Whole and Spit Me Back Out Again
‘Another young poker player trying to make his mark, you kids get younger,’ one says.
I know if I pass this point, it will take a panic attack to get me to turn back.
I pass it without issue, but it’s not long before the panic fully sets in.
I am losing myself on the highway.
My biggest fear.
She should have outgrown it— she’s four— long ago
it can only stretch from her toes to torso.
But, as kids we have trouble letting things go
why it still makes her shine all aglow? I don’t know.
Empty days pass through
the hourglass of life as winter offers little hope.
Figures never stay—
words fall like snow around me but never penetrate.
I get lost in it, I do everything I can.
wait, what about that little white pill.
A new dosage. More powerful than before.
I take that white pill.
Over the course of the last month, I have had the honor to do a freelance project called Inside and Out with a local writer named Terry Fisher. In the … Continue reading Inside and Out