At our show On 19 June 2020 Giles Addison performed his poem “Loss”. Here is the text version of it.
Loss – feeling lost to the Machiavellian machinations of my own head.
The ice cold abyss of depression that freezes to the core until I feel… nothing –
Minutes lost in the hours, hours in the days, desperate to feel… something.
The crazed ecstasy of mania that burns so bright until I feel… too too much –
Deluded choices with ramifications I’ll only know later when they arrive as such.
The ricochet of voices with no corporeal form that haunt me hour upon hour –
Making the day and the night desperately lonely and so vitriolic sour.
When I forget to remember; that social engagement, the appointment, how to make tea –
My executive functioning so buggered it angers others despite my clemency plea.
Loss are the weeks in hospital, the zombie months of high medication not right for me –
Loss is the times I fall victim to the full throes of my illness, yearning to be free.
But through loss I have fought, myself I have taught –
A deeper understanding, and with it compassion –
In order to be free, or at least in a fashion.
To aid myself in, not in taming the beast –
But keeping it on some kind of leash, at least.
In loss I have also gained, I can see more of you I can see more of me.
So that whilst we are cursed we can look that we’re blessed too you see.
I am not bipolar. I am not disordered, just reordered, nor am I schizo.
Yes I have bipolar schizoaffective disorder, but is that all of me, no.
For the losses I’ve known or will endure, I will find triumphs, of that I am sure.