The Cast of Pain

the Mills, Franklin NH

Don’t want to walk through the pain.

But the want…


the need…

are not the same.

There is no religion to the agony.

There is no need for the ache’s shame.


only the want remains.

Only remains a cast of shadow in the day.

The day I stop…

walking through the pain.

Shame, Shame, Shame

Shame, shame, shame, shame on you
I bet you think that you’re a big man now
But I think you’re a sick man now
And you don’t know how to be a good man too
Isn’t it time to call this big dog out for our misery?!

One Day by the River


With all the dips and lulls at an impasse…a drought!

No, to transparency…living, life, cloudy with doubt.

One day while praying for rain,

I convinced myself it has always been this way.

Speechless with cotton mouth, dried by the fray…


One day by the river,

brittle as, burning parchment…

praying for rain.

Empathy receded in silent shame.

Commandment of Remorse



How best do I measure you?

Is your worthiness…

A cost for virtue?

Every trace of my being is laden with the commandment of  remorse.

Magnificent is the blood on the hands that intercept its due course.

How typical your response!

‘We all do things we are ashamed of!’

What is the heft to the callous fist of hate?

How much the price to impede fate?

Such is this weighty scale.

Thinking too much.

Or, not all.

Intuition’s downfall.

So little given to the limitless air.

When trading  in love for despair.

How much for a wicked deed?

Before it outgrows what forgiveness it needs.


the Despair of Schizophrenia


Yes, I’ve wanted to give up.  Who hasn’t?  She was my vision of possibility without disgrace.

Nearly, fifteen years ago, she had her first psychotic break, that we witnessed together.  Of course, there had been many previous times…gone from this world, unto and onto, another.  Those are moments in time, that I could only have hoped to be there for her.  As a child, as a teen, as a young adult, her struggles with a multitude of angry and deviant voices…had been her penance.  A breach in the lining of the fabric that so many of us…take for granted.  In these times, within the halls, stained mattresses, climatic group therapy sessions; my heroine, my wife, Megan, lived a life of solace.  Alone in deviled conversations among perceived (in her mind) beings who were out to kill, disfigure and harm.

As my spouse, lover and best friend, Megan, is diagnosed with schizophrenia.  A conclusion that her therapy, teams, did not come to until…fairly recently.

She has undergone;


four point restraints

staff abuse


various medical regimes

A variety of schemes were designed to keep her under wraps.  Where she refused to wear a dress!  She was forced to wear a plastic hospital gown (made for state funded clinics).  Designed for lack of comfort and…constriction.  Though she tore at the dress/gown, threw up on it, fouled upon it; the medical staff kept her dressed in it.  For 72 hours.  A bizarre performance by the mental health staff.  To reprimand Megan for behavior that was not socially acceptable.

The first psychotic break I bore witness to; Megan’s innocent, brown eyes, rolled back into her head.  She spoke to walls that appeared to speak back.  Voices encouraging her to harm herself.  Being to fearful to fight back.  Megan, adhered to the voices, and over dosed.

I could not speak to her.  I could not bring her back.  I could only sit in a stark room with a strange mural of waterfalls, on the far wall.

I had been encouraged by a woman who was unaware of Megan’s past, voices, medications; To not remind my lover of our home, our pets, our love.

Bringing up our history, as a couple, the nurse stated:

‘Would only upset me more!  And, accomplish nothing, as far as, encouraging, Megan, was involved.’

My wife has grown since those days.  The breaks from what society calls, reality, happen very rarely.  She is a strong woman.  Fighting demons…I would cower from.

I encourage anyone…with a lover, educate themselves on the stigma of mental health and it’s disorders.  Further, as Megan has shown me; If you find yourself avoiding the reach;  The hand out of the darkness that is trustworthy and understanding…offering you a reprieve.  Do not recess back in shame.    The hand?  Please take it.  Trust it.  I have learned from the guidance of my wife, my own mental health issues…  And, on occasion I need a person to a friend in which to…win the fight.  The fight against mental health disorders…and, their stigmas.

“Schizophrenia cannot be understood without understanding despair.”

R.D. Laing