Sillas Lee

“Bipolar”

There’s a companion of mine,
They’re quite important, all consuming, dripping into the crevices of shattered glass
They’re unwell, inherited, causation, mistreated
The stigma around them is quite terrible, can you see why?
Type 1 or type 2, do you know mania?

There’s a companion of mine,
They’re quite important,
They’re rushing waters filling in a dark crawl space rapidly
Joy is bittersweet, overwhelming and devastating
Ecstasy or happiness, one of them is unfamiliar, unseen
The intensity of them is as tall as redwood trees, as vast as the earth is round

There’s a companion of mine,
They’re quite important, quite bittersweet,
They can’t see, they know everything and nothing
Fine one moment, tripping over their feet the next
How syrupy, sweet, sticky – unwelcome.

There’s a companion of mine
They’re quite important, a lack of a single line
They’re the lie detector needle
Zig zag, ring. Liar, deceiver, a broken bird’s wing
They’re hopscotch of emotions, rapid and fluttering
A jump rope ting before the rope even hits a full swing

There’s a companion of mine
They’re not too important, they’ve burrowed beneath my skin, made an old cottage home and used my bones to make a windchime that spins
They’re a swing on a good day, floating back and forth. They hold reins in their hands that dig into my tongue
Drip, drop, bleeding
An episode, I’ll call it, words like bile in the back of my mouth, sticking to my tongue like blue raspberry dye
Do they know the stigma around them? 

Do you know mania, despair, a mood drop, skip, jump, dive?
It’s a high, it’s a low, it’s overwhelming, it’s anxiety, it’s ecstasy, it’s fear
It’s choking on grief of a friend who hasn’t died, the spilling of guts of people i’d rather hide

Do you know them
Do you know me?

I hate that their eyes shimmer like moonlight, that it disappears behind heavy clouds at the drop of a hat
I hate their nails raking into my skin, the blood dripping down to my fingertips like a sin
They’re a companion of mine, something gifted down the family line
They’re pearly white teeth of an open maw
Crippling despair in a bright sunlight field
They’re memories and sickness, combined into something wholly unfair
They’re friends finding you unstable, unreadable, like a fine hair that splinters and tears

They are inconsistent, a brush stroke, a put out light bulb
They’re a line of Christmas lights, every color a different feeling, sensation, scandal
They’re the videos of mold growing sped up to a few seconds
Here and then gone again
Do you know them, their hair interwoven with lilies that grow and wilt interchangeably
The candle flames of their fingers, of singes along imperfect skin
They’re the blankets draped over a lonely figure in the middle of summer, of winter, of fall and spring

My companion is a shade of yellow, no green, no blue
They’re a rainbow turned into a noose.
Do you know them, do you know you?
Do you know their unforgettable, miserable sensation, their riding crop in the left hand and a preacher book in the other

Do you know them as you know me?

“Fallen”

I sit in an old pew in a new church
There’s an old man ahead of me
I’ve been here most of my life
starlight, sunshine, rain

I sit in an old pew in a new church
I have questions with no answers
I’m told to be quiet now
Sleep, hurt, tired eyes, sun

I sit in an old pew in a new church
I’ll beg god on my knees tonight
Wish for a better sunrise
Dissatisfied, wake

I sit in an old pew in a new church
Do you too think god cares for us
The preachers lie on Sunday
Listless, bitter, foul

I sit in an old pew in a new church
I don’t know if god can forgive
There’s tears to be cried tonight
Guilt, repentance, hate

I sit in an old pew in a new church
There’s a tickle and scratch at my throat
The old man has passed away
Unusual, shift

I sit in an old pew in a new church
I don’t know if I believe this,
But I see horns and a tail
My seat burns my hips.

“Consumption”

What’s a bigger monster
Creatures or men

Humanity is cruelty, inherent evil
Some are kind, but they crush their bones and used the sand as face powder
My blood makes rouge
My eyes make gems
They may not be blue, green nor hazel, but they shimmer with honey in the sun

My fingernails are the encasement of lightbulbs
My vocal cords are use to string up plants
I’m considered monstrous, inhumane, insane
But my bones make chandeliers, my tears fill the sea
My blood will color your drapery

If you dry me out with salt, I’ll be jerky
My teeth make fine jewelry
My tongue is a delicacy 
You’ll use my guts to make cello strings
My spine will make the legs of chairs, a centerpiece
Use my splintered ribs as hair pieces and pins
Sewing needles and thread made from fine hair

I am a leather seat, a bookcase and the railing of stairs
If you take a bite of me, can you taste my humanity?

“Aftertaste”

My childhood was a candle flame against a raging sea
The sound of running water wakes me, i pray for rain
My bedroom is etched into my mind’s eyes, a reminder of the past like stretch marks – scars

My childhood was gasoline and suffocating silence – choking on the fumes
I carried my bird size heart in the middle of the night, convinced the dark was home, safety
I drowned part of myself. Their blood turned the water awash with red as they choked, spat and bled. I sat with the other half. They stumbled on the way back down and tripped, snapped and shattered.

Two sides, one, a thousand glasses cracked into a million shards
One side was a scream, the other a lit match
How they amused each other.
One was a smile, one was a baring of teeth. I was ashamed. 
Kinder, smarter, better, failure – not enough air to speak.

I was a child screaming of injustice no one seemed to believe – ignored, inconvenient, needing to be “grateful”
She did not have to take you in, they told me – I was not her burden to bear
But the scars left on my very soul are from her
Verbal, trapped against a wall – Eyes full of vitriol –
They were a sore throat, ragged from screaming – and I was the aftertaste