Talking about mental health is how we progress mindsets. “The Devil’s Pulling Strings” is a reflection of both personal, and professional experiences with Schizophrenia. A distrust in reality is heartbreaking to see, and difficult to mend. Daily function becomes hampered by your own demons and contradicting truths. Through living in New York, I am submerged in diversity. Eccentricity is valued, yet when a hint of “insanity” hangs on your coat tails, doors become closed and backs become turned. The correlation between homelessness and mental health on the streets of New York is devastating to see. I have watched Schizophrenia destroy a friendship because I was not strong enough to detach myself from my own insecurities to support another. I will never be a bystander again. It’s ok to not be ok. It’s not ok for society to turn its back on those who live with a skewed perception of reality or those who are suffocated by their own mind.
The Devil’s Pulling Strings
Is that beat a second hand, time eating off my years?
Or is the tick a pounding heart, sounding chimes of fears?
The devils pulling strings, composing purgatories rings
Notes devote their melodies to the hellish tings
Drumming beats, bark defeats, to a ruminating mind
Hellish tunes hark repeats on this vinyl scratched with time
Tick Tock! The clock is ticking, sanity at 1
Onto to two, we take pills due, stability my drum
Tick tock to three, could it be, Satan’s keeping time?
Yet, Increments of pills prevent lucidities decline
But, on the hour, this clock tower’s sounding not so sound
Tick tock! Is this clock slowing, from its merry round?
Circles so elliptical, with a clock tower that’s in use
Yet, objects once cylindrical, begin to sing obtuse
These cylinders, so whimsical in their kaleidoscopic daze
Clozapine and Lithium only alter the mental craze
Riddle rattle, as I battle, meds puppeteer my act
Surely side effects are worse, than the symptoms I’d contract
Hmmmm, let it be, just wait and see, what I feel as pure?
Paranoia I can take, but fuck, drugs I can’t endure
The last pill is spiraling, down the kitchen sink
Testing waters, sane the game, is insanity in that drink?
Tick tock! The clock is ticking, sanity at 1
Onto to two, we missed pills due, stability undone
Tick tock to three, could it be, Satan’s keeping time?
Increments of strokes predict lucidities decline
On the hour this clock tower’s sounding not so sound
Tick tock! This clock is halting, from its merry round
The judging eyes wander, as expressions scream revulsion
In that moment, I can’t fight the urge, to act on my compulsion
“Ohhh, don’t you mind, it’s not your mind, that see’s what isn’t there
Woopsy daisy! Sorry lady, you’ve got something in your hair
Don’t be wary, it’s just a fairy, I’ll place my pet back in its pouch”
Oh contrary, there’s something scary, sitting on the couch
“Pardon Sir, please refer, to what’s brooding over there
Do you spy a guy adorned, in chiseled horned red hair?
A man, a monster, poised, as if checking time in hell?”
Tick tock! I halt in shock, as the devil rings his bell
“O but sir, do you conquer, as my sight might not be right
I must implore, tell me more, is the devil on a plight?”
“Sorry miss… a… arrrrr red cushion is all I see”
Minds the fine for medications non-compliance fee
Casually the couch bound being, makes a rasping blare
My fairy safely in its pouch, but me I’m standing bare
“Come hither or I take your fairy and slice its rasping throat
“Come hither for tonight you’ll write a suicidal note”
Tick tock! The clock is ticking, insanity at 1
Onto to two, we need pills due, lunacy has won
Tick tock to three, could it be, I am out of time
Increment of strokes confirm lucidities not mine
With every hour, time devours, I’m sounding not so sound
Tick tock, fuck of clock, from your merry round
The devils rasping words remembered “fairy or a vein”
The pills missed at two confirm a mind that is insane.
My pouch takes a stare…
By 11 a letter’s written. Midnights alarm. Bereavements blare

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image (4)I am a Pediatric Occupational therapist from Australia who moved to New York to work as an Aupair for a family with a child with Autism. Motivated by a need to understand Autism from the perspective of a parent, I took a pay cut for an invaluable personal journey.
Understanding human behavior and then providing an art form for personal growth has been my recent love. I write poetry, blogs and societal critiques which seem to have a recurring them of injustice.

Renae can be found on her blog, Facebook and Twitter

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