An Illness,
Sometimes it’s a condition.
Other days it’s just something
I live with
Like a wedding ring, on an index finger.
Sometime it lingers like
Winter, sometimes it fattens you,
Thins you, makes you less than.
And sometimes it’s your best friend
Talking shit about you again and again.
But one anxious pill to another you,
Will you ever be better then good?
Mental health has been my black belt.
I’m good at it,
Writing has been my nunchuck.
When I’m stuck,
I just write rhymes till it stops
Or times up.
Sometime I write like an oncoming truck.
Is breaking fast heading right at me.
And sometimes it hits me,
And I always get back up,
Beaten bloody.
I’m defense and offense
In the back alley.
A junk yard dog
Rabid and infected,
Mental health presidential
But never been elected.
Been like this since I can only remember.
I wrote my way out of the paper bag,
Out of the slang and the mental slag,
Frozen obsessed since my mind started skipping,
Thinking obtrusive confidential.
Data’s been missing since September last year.
Wish I would be better,
But my mind runs the race and I’m still
Man I’m trying.
I can do better.


Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.