This poem is from "Dysphoria Quartet. Subtitle, Why God invented Lithium" by Anitra L. Freeman.

I am clenched tight to ram my way through

fog in front of me

the skin of my arm jumps with the need

to flood out a thousand words

my fingers are frozen silent

my legs long to run

my feet are still

weak

my mind races in place

and I never see the scenery

The next poem is by Anna Williams


"Dysphoria"

I sand smooth
the rough
edges of my words,
over and
over again.

Running fingers
over them, only to
find flesh still snags.

I push harder
down upon them,
until blood
has coated ink

Turning red
the ebony lines
of dissatisfaction.

Still...
they are not refined,
not smooth
to the minds
touch.

A finer grade
of sandpaper
is needed,

but...
will do nothing.