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| By Craig Finn (schizophrenia patient) (Plos Medicine) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons |
"Dies or Dyes"
Big brother’s skeletal wardrobe, Felix at a good week before passing.
The one-eyed selfie, too relaxed for a sick man.
Sideways ill, sideways frozen, sick and happy in cursed warm shoes.
Blue eyes closed for the blinding flash of fashionable mirrors.
Rusty pink hair over a fat wood-hue’d jacket top.
A blurry reflection from the great tremors of rich white hands.
The one-eyed selfie, too relaxed for a sick man.
Sideways ill, sideways frozen, sick and happy in cursed warm shoes.
Blue eyes closed for the blinding flash of fashionable mirrors.
Rusty pink hair over a fat wood-hue’d jacket top.
A blurry reflection from the great tremors of rich white hands.
*I wrote this poem during my schizophrenia event in which it seemed that as fantasy was invading my vision. When I talked about the big brother, was I referring to the government in Sacramento or my actual brother named Evan? Various abstractions are in this poem because I lived an urban life in Sacramento until I became crazy, but at least this poem illustrates the seeming virus I caught around Christmas of 2013.
Question from Poet emilywrite on Deviant Art: “Please let me know what you would like to see me write about? I lack inspiration in this moment.”
My Response: “When it comes to pain and pleasure in writing, this question can be asked: Why is seaweed the congregation of a needle? I've been to doctors and beaches at least. The idea of travelling can be underestimated when it comes to the usual destinations, yet writing about the image on a tourist mug or the disco colors of jewelry, or how televisions don't seem to be squares anymore, can lead to the imagination that leads to more imagination. Also, those sudden sensations should combine well with memorable faculties to let you address more on the decision-making parties at work and in life.”
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