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A year later, she still kept falling...
It's just solitude:
longitudinally speaking the wall is endless.
Reality lurks, (while he hides in the imaginary).
The pitiful pit, the hypocritical message, the indifference,
the hospital bed, are all for her, alone.
Not to lose one's mind one must follow the road to the dustbin,
the soiled bandages, the silicon tube,
the spiraling white noise,
the zigzagging of drugged thoughts.
Time to go, they say...
There's a railway to insanity that is already written on her skin - not built - not drawn - not.
There's a railroad from the maddening loss, there will be.
Electrodes placed on the shaved skull,
a sponge between two rows of distressed ivory.
In a second and a breath, earthquake dissolves her soul,
wherever it is.
Shock - shiver -shock
the missing chaos of the epileptic wave comes hissing and shakes her;
between expert hands, all is white and bleached green,
all is medical knowledge of heartless machine,
to wipe away the heartache.
Cracks in the imaginary ceiling - break her - broken, she.
Negative v Positive
the flow, the flight of electric mosquitoes,
her toes tense on crisp sheets,
squalid neon noise zzz
Intense - then tension ends!
Now suspended, she is quiet (after the storm)
floating in a-symbolic space,
a funny cartoon character in the air :
at a timeless moment the realization of emptiness,
the gravity, the fall.
Another year passes:
Still floating, still asphyxiating, she sees from afar...
a friend's smile, her happy couple, her newborn baby.
For them a dream (come true ).
While, in the empty room (he hides),
morning bleeds in,
as her body remains cut open,
and her soul keeps falling.
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|Reviewed by Timothy McBride
|Very Electric!~ You can feel it shocking, with increased voltage as you read along.. Nicly written
|Reviewed by Sheila Roy
|Saddening, Axilea. Thank you for sharing this piece. Very visual...cuts right to the soul.
|Reviewed by C. McGovern-Bowen
|written from the depth of one's soul... superb work axilea.|
|Reviewed by Amor Sabor
|I would be sad to find this type of treatment still goes on anywhere and I would hate to be on the receiving end of such a nightmarish scene as you have painted with words so well. You are truly gifted at painting these scenes via images and fine descriptors.|
|Reviewed by Joyce Bell
|THE SADNESS OF ONE ENDURING A PROCEDURE THAT SO OFTEN DOESN'T WORK...ATTEMPTING TO FIX THE DAMAGE OF A DEEP EMOTIONAL AND PAINFUL SHOCK WITH ELECTRICAL SHOCKS AND MEDICATION THAT DOESN'T EVEN 'TOUCH' HIS PRESENCE THAT HAUNTS HER. THE IMAGERY IN THIS WORK IS FANTASTIC. WELL DONE. THANKS FOR SHARING. LOVE, BLESSINGS AND FAITH...JOYCE * HIS INSPIRATIONS|
|Reviewed by Laurel Lamperd
|There's a railway to insanity that is already written on her skin - not built - not drawn - not.
I really like this description. An excellent piece of writing.
|Reviewed by Debby Rosenberg
|you express with such clarity, as a reader I was immediately pulled into the scene to empath its experience...wow...potent in how it lingers in thought...|
|Reviewed by Christine Alwin
|Powerfully expressed, cutting edges that pierced me as I read this emotional piece...great work~|
|Reviewed by E T Waldron
|Having been in hospital more times than I will tell as it sounds unbelievable,I know about illness and what it does to mind body and soul. Yet your poem, has blown my mind. Your ability to capture this in such stunning detail is amazing. It should be published. My thoughts and prayers are with whomever went through this. Bravo for such a powerful poem superbly written!
|Reviewed by Charlie
|Palpable and stunning. Your Alice is made real in our imaginations (written on it- not drawn) by you. There is real empathy here--such detail, and unrepenting truth. The mosquitos line was perfect, as was "morning bleeds in"-- though I imagine everything in white and variating shades of white on red (perhaps because of the primary pic?) even so, one cannot escape the emptiness they feel while reading this-- escape the clinical prison of her mind--of hospitaL walls, white and endless. Just an amazing write. Really amazing. --Charlie|
|Reviewed by jude forese
|i truly admire your ability to encapsulate the internal and external conditions of a fragile state of mind and the environ it is surrounded by, through powerfully charged imagery ... excellent work ...|
|Reviewed by Alan Abrams
|how the placement and configuration of these inky squiggles take form--and life--and struggle, and suffer. it is beautifully wrought, but what is created is terrifying. Axilea, you make magic with this stuff--and I hope--find solace in it.|
|Reviewed by Douglas Bentley
|A year later. . . . .
I can still hear the naked footsteps coming down the hall
What do they call it -- Shock and Awe
|Reviewed by John Flanagan
|Jon and Kate have already said most of what's
applicable and thoroughly deserved; just let me
add a deeply felt reaction to your theme
and its exceptionally fine delivery, you're
at your best here and yes, it reminds me of
Plath, 'The Surgeon at 2 a. m.' in particular
|Reviewed by Morgan Merriweather
|I read this many ways. one of which is how we can make ourselves sick. Or isolate ourself too. The imagery is excellent.|
|Reviewed by Christine Tsen
|So many different story lines that can be woven through these evocative verses, each with their own impact.
This is such incredibly powerful writing, deeply felt!
|Reviewed by Ronald Hull
|A vivid description of something that's very hard for me to comprehend. I have suffered the slings and arrows of medical indecision, but I can't imagine what goes on in the minds of doctors who think they can cure everything with experimental treatments.
|Reviewed by Mary Ann Biddinger
|Bless her heart. Very well captured in your expression Axilea. Our youngest daughter went through eleven ECT treatments.
Lady Mary Ann
|Reviewed by Jon Willey
|Axilea, I am able to visualize a corona which hangs about the electrode burdened shaved pate for those few electrical cycles of the therapy. The hissing sounds of arcing current I experienced in my career with electricity add a surreal sense to this work. My mother experienced deep depression for a brief period of her early adulthood and was subjected to the then state of the art cure, electrotherapy. The state of deep depression is a twisted road in a dark forest of contentious contradictions, perpetual cognitive dissonance. An intruder that seeks to deprive the happiness and joys from the lives of those that suffer its consequences. You have added another dimension of reality to perceptions held by this reader and others with the rich verbiage of this rendering. May peace and love be always with you my dear friend, Jon Michael|
|Reviewed by Kate Burnside
|I'm thoroughly blown away by this poem, Axilea. To me it is perhaps your very best and the ingenuity of your lines - their expression and thinking - I feel I want to study at length. I'm particularly affected as psychiatric illness looms large in my immediate family and all the childhood memories I have of my father are of visting him once a week in an old Victorian mental hospital which I misunderstood at the time to be some hell-hole of a prison. The suppression of mental affliction - mainly forms of depression or schizophrenia in my own father and brother's cases - was habitual through the use of drugs and ECT: electro-convulsive therapy. Your descriptions here therefore render me numbed with their searing import and clarity. Your opening two lines, in particular, are ones that I savour: a real "down the rabbit hole" conveyance of mood and idea.
It's just solitude:
longitudinally speaking the wall is endless.
I am truly in awe of the skill and artistry of this write, let alone its thematic content. Kudos to you, my friend! :)) xx
|Reviewed by Terry Rizzuti
|A very good poem, Axilea. Reminds me of the lobotomy days, which are coming back, by the way, only now the procedure is more specific to an individual memory rather than an entire area of the brain -- scary stuff, and sick.|
|Reviewed by Amber Moonstone
|Incredible imagery and descriptive stanzas. You bring us on a roller coaster of emotions as each sentence is read, we become more and more engrossed in the depth of what you are saying.
Wow, what a poem, you rocked this one for sure!
Peace, love and light,
|Reviewed by Diana Wiles
|This reminds me of Sylvia Plath's work...your words went straight to my core...
A very impressive piece of work...
|Reviewed by stan nassano
|I like the rhythm and flow of this........you lay out, a quite frightening scene..... athe fsll...a falling soul,and he hides...so alone.....and falling..|