I’ve written a duet of poems to add to my collections. I’m sure you’re all aware of the tragic tale of Dr Henry Jekyll and his somewhat evil alter ego Mr Edward Hyde from the 1886 Gothic novella the Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde by the Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson. The inspiration for so many movies, drama’s and stories.
Even I tried to reproduce this story in the form of a school play once with a load of primary school kids, myself being one at the time, and playing the lead role; of course. Well you can imagine how that turned out. The children didn’t have a clue or care about the story; I was a crap director being only about 10 or 11 and the teacher called it a day after an hour of total anarchy. Yes, I was that young.
As I’ve mentioned before, I do love a bit of the macabre from time to time, a bit of Gothic horror and it’s this story that inspired me to write about the feelings and emotions that I sometimes go through when I’m; not quite myself.
This first part is the objective side of me that knows the trouble I get into when I lose it and the problems it causes.
The Jekyll in Me
To be possessed
Is that what poor mental health once was?
To be a sufferer
That disconnect from the world
I almost understand
How days ago, Demons were to blame
The shame they brought on a lost soul
That science now calls chemical imbalance
That veil of Red Mist
The transformational possession by the other one
The moment I forget…
Only to wake from it after lost time
To the fallout of my mood and temper
And the family who just deal with it
I don’t see the turmoil that’s left in my wake
Like a distant memory
When I’m not me, in partial amnesia
Feelings raging, consideration lost, uncontrollable
The mouth engages but the brain does not
It’s not right I know
But that moment of lost control
It’s the Hyde in me
A personal ecstasy
But then I fall
From the metaphorical ceiling to floor
Back from the ecstasy in him to the hurt in me
And the floor hit’s hard, I awake
Awake to emotional devastation
To the collateral damage
That is the disbelief of those that faced me
And bored the shrapnel from my forked tongue