Brain on Fire!

October 2020

This poem was written by two authors who have had auditory hallucinations.

Matthew:

I instantly recognize the utterance as the spirit of me deceased father, whereby he did expatiate at length about apologizing for being a disappointing father, though yours truly begs to differ insisting sole son let down his papa by falling short (literally at ~5'10”) academically, filially, monetarily, and (parenthetically humorously).

Katina:

The tunnel is no place you want to be.
The darkness wraps around you like a spider web.
Soon you become your worst fears.
Trembling, your life becomes hijacked with pain.
In your mind, the day is the same.
Others around you, find solace in prayer.
I’m in the middle of an audio hallucination.
I’m looking for my shoes but cannot find them.
My husband is fast asleep, but I know I may have to
wake him up.

“This is real. They are coming after you! You better run!”

Matthew:

Cue Doctor Demento they're coming to take me away lyrics as follows:

They're coming to take me away, ha-ha,
They're coming to take me away, ho-ho,
Hee hee, haa haa
To the happy home
With trees and flowers and chirping birds
And basket-weavers who sit and smile
And twiddle their thumbs and toes
And they're coming to take me away, ha-hahaha...

© Dr. Demento Song Lyrics: They’re Coming to Take me Away

Katina:

The air is heavy, the night is dark.
Fear surrounds, my every waking thought.
I felt as though I was losing my mind.

“This is real! You are a failure. You need to die!”

Matthew:

Mein kampf frought with feeling insignificant. Inferiority complex heartily thrived within these lovely bones. Life NOT worth living an oft repeated refrain initialized when yours truly a mere little lad, one puny boy. Punks punctuated my equilibrium. Yours truly (me) offered a veritable field day within which bullies throve. I never fought back, neither verbally nor physically, which gave figurative green light for nasty (not so shortish brutes) to lambaste me with name-calling and threatening fists. Cumulative anger internalized, whereat seething said emotion festered, kindled, and stewed brew of toxin.

“You schlepping schlemiel schlimazel! Ye are a born sucker punched loser!”

Katina:

You Are Not Real!
Get out of here!

“You are a failure. You do not believe me. I’m God!”

Would you please, Shut up!
I’m trying to get some sleep in here!

Matthew:

Passive silent spoken suicidal ideations arose courtesy brandishing sharp knives pointed at my abdomen. Another instance found me to conk noggin (head) with fifteen pound dumbbell weight in an effort to court demise of one garden variety genetic gutless guy.

Please do not report me to the men in white coats, who will (most likely) take me away.

Methinks I hear knock... knock... knock on front door. “Hello. Are you Matthew Scott Harris?”

Katina:

Sidestepping, shaking hands, rapid beats, fear erupts.
I take the antipsychotic drug, hoping the noise in my head will dissipate.

“This is real, I am God, don’t you understand? You created me. I’m real.”

Matthew:

Peerless (also pier less, thus wharf art thou sinister skipper) to abscond with powerless aspiring paperback writer floating, drifting, and bobbing within cyber sea.

I  soliloquize. “Mine sunbleached body subjected to rapacious, pernicious, and nefarious raw elements of style courtesy mother earth.”

Katina:

Peering out the windows, hearing vicious growls.
Shades of blue surrounds, my every waking mood.
Listening to something that is not really “there.”
I continued to speculate, was I just losing my mind, again.
Hearing the drums begin to play, keep beat with my feet.
Thinking, maybe this is who they say they are, did God really
come to me one night?

“Take the bottle of pills, nestled in your drawer.”
“To go to sleep would be so kind of you.”
“My dear, this is God, who speaks!”

Matthew:

Yes, every now and again methinks escaping (stage door left) cagily, casually, and cavalierly overdosing on medication and/or emailing the Hemlock Society might allow, enable, and provide exit from the cares and concerns of an uncertain world.

“I think, how easy to down entire bottle pharmacological contents, and discovery of my gratefully dead body will forever rest in peace.”

Katina:

Walking, praying, gardening, taking photographs, eating nutritious foods, counseling (by phone), medication, pet therapy (cats!) plenty of rest and sometimes attending church. All things I have tried to do, to keep the noise and depression out of my head. Without the medication, life appeared void of existence, I became surrounded with dark emptiness and obscure irrational and often delusional thoughts. I want to say, I am recovered from mental illness. Until then, I will take the moments of life, as they come.

One day at a time.

Help & Support
Online resources

Hearing Voices Network
 https://www.hearing-voices.org/
Rethink Mental Illness

ttps://www.rethink.org/advice-and-information/about-mental-illness/learn-more-about-symptoms/hearing-voices/

Psychology Today
https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/longing-nostalgia/201803/research-is-shedding-new-light-hearing-voices

Schizophrenic Writer: Daniel Hoeweler
https://schizophrenicwriter.com/poetry/20-poems-about-schizophrenia/

Dr Demento Song Lyrics: “They’re coming to take me away.”

You Tube: Dr. Demento song: “They’re coming to take me away.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=3Fn36l_z3WY