Tuesday, 10 December 2013

Some words from last year

The following pieces are from when I was having hard times.  These videos (here, here and here) help to explain my cycle of seizures and tics.  The descriptions are still true, but times are now a bit better - I think because I am a bit more mature.  There is still room for lots of improvement in my medical treatments.


All enveloping
Swallow me whole in your arms
Drowning in your depths
Crying on your shoulder
Holding me back
Throwing me to the ground you possess me

Defrag my mind
Wipe the slate clean
Clear the decks
Ready for reprogramming

Fuzzy buffers reality like a mink coat wrapped head
Sparkles of light peer through the slits

Whispering words of care blow away the shadows
Tears moisturise the skin warming the soul
Rolling on the base curve
Ready to start again
Propelling to even greater heights.

(Written 7 July 2012, a week after a tonic-clonic seizure.  No video available.)


Thinking in the twilight place
Memories of a golden face
Enjoy the reality now we are there
Calm me
Take away the fear
Fighting time is almost nigh
Think give up while spirits high
Unwind my conscious reign
Let the twitch dance start again

(Written 14 July 2012, after the discussion of cyclic symptoms referred to in introduction.  See video here.)

The findings of my reflections ...

Demons haunt, crying their song.
Today is different. My mind is singing a different tune.
The beat in my chest is pounding the need to change directions.

No more wallowing in the marshes of pity.
The struggle continues but I near closer to its edge.
Each step is a physical barrier,
quick sand in nature.

Tears of self absorption are dried up,
making conservation of body fluid
awaiting to be transformed
into the sweat of struggle.

The struggle is to be happy with me.
I am getting wary over the ease of falling into the pits along the way
but prepared to work harsh criticisms into the ground.

(Written 21 August 2012, during the tic phase of Ben's cycle.  See video here.)


Fighting through the muddled mess of thoughts, images and colours that fog up my brain.
Momentary reprieve from repeating patterns creates the illusion of near completion
only to submerge again into the depths of this foreign land.

This had better not be the new me,
but if it is I had better master the skill of floating with purpose.
As without purpose, floating is bodyless and unoccupied
like a sense distorted robot.

Nothing usually lasts this long without the refresh button being pressed.
If I stumble around long enough maybe it will go off like an alarm
causing my real me to jolt back to life.

(Written 30 October 2012, nine days after a tonic-clonic seizure.  See video here.)