diagnostic code

you acted like you cracked the code
like it was news
that I’m a tickin time bomb
with a charmin smile
like I haven’t spent years
armin and disarmin myself before breakfast

bipolar 1:
meanin I feel everythin
too hard and too fast?

see also
psychosis:
so not everyone screams at god
in a Whataburger parkin lot?

hypersexuality:
sorry for tryin to
fuck away the sadness

substance abuse disorder:
emotional avoidance? blackouts? bad decisions?
check…check…and hell fuckin yes

anger management issues:
trust me you’d have a temper too
this isn’t rage
it’s memory

childhood trauma:
we don’t talk bout it
but it still talks to me

you rattled it off
like fuckin bullet points
as if givin it a name
meant you suddenly understood me
as if a diagnosis
could explain away the wreckage

like the chaos makes more sense
now that it’s got a fuckin file number
like callin it a disorder
makes the shakin stop

you say I’m not my diagnosis
but everythin I do
gets filtered thru it
if I’m happy…manic
if I’m sad…depression
if I point out the shadows…psychosis
if I’m angry…red flag
if I’m quiet…”are you takin your meds?”

god forbid I just feel somethin
without it bein a symptom

I take the pills
b/c sometimes I burn too hot
to keep touchin my skin raw
not b/c I believe in your system

I still keep the piano close
that’s right
PTSD has a steinway bitch
I still scream in rooms
with the door shut
so no one hears
I still flinch away
from sudden movements
or raised voices
I still wake up mid fight
to remind myself it’s just a dream
I’m still a little too much
and not nearly enough

but if you’re goin to reduce me
to ink on paper
at least spell my goddamn name right