Burnt the last time,
throw out every chance to return.
Reborn, under the guise of dead skin,
Better to return again
known to the world,
as the last exile
I’ll kill you with the last bite, ejected from my stomach with forced might, just so you could let me down easily …it never does get easier from here.
I can’t take this anymore but wait, I’ve said that a hundred times before. Will this be the last time? (laughter abound) I won’t be here to find out (heaving sound) Killed by hindsight, the pain of repetive spilled guts, another lost fight. A street corner, toiling for a warm drink, Out of body, lost control, or the rational ability to think.
Prepared to sink with this ship, I’ll wait here til the next go around Onlookers gawk at the final trip those who knew watch me drown.
The view from the outside worse with each blow. The gutteral churn of a real-life, B-rate horror show.
I can be a transient lover to you.
Stability, security, override what you feel.
Eventually my act gets tired.
Songs embellished in your name,
I don’t know what’s real. Forgiveness is.
I owe myself a few more mulligans.
Nothing rhymes with mulligan.
I don’t blame you for wanting out.
Happiness is a dollar sign, no time
for silly thoughts, these words of mine. McCartney was right all along.
No amount of prose can replace structure,
fidelity, coarse in the hourglass.
Rubbing you, those last sloppy moments in bed.
Sand stuck in your bathing suit.
“Fuck me” still hanging in the air over my head. It felt so dirty to be with you.
Transient love spent.
My well-meaning “goodbye” sent.
Someday you’ll understand.
Maybe I don’t.
I just know when you leave, I’m always back where I started.
The dim lights, shadows and creeping in the corners of the room,
always waiting & wanting.
The sunshine relents.
My boys look so innocent in this pose,
and I can’t replace the feelings of those close.
We’re all ghosts.
Someday you’ll understand– all the booze and loose women, no critics to laugh at you, you bonehead.
Just the sound of your own voice.
Laughter as medicine, haha, but that’s a joke.
That’s what life looked like, out the window and friends you had are ghosts too- in dreams, at the grocery store, maybe even that bar down the street.
But I don’t drink anymore, I don’t leave with strangers and I simply am no fun.
Someday you’ll understand.
One more seizure, one more pulse;
I am electric.
All my memories of this time
will dissolve into thin air…
“Manic depression is a frustrating mess” – Jimi Hendrix
The intangible objects lay in front of me dancing to my dissatisfaction, restless and piercing the fever and impulses shutting down my brain. I didn’t know what time it was but everyone in the house was long asleep. There was an entire army of sleepless dreadnoughts waiting in the bay to fire at will. Chaos feels like order in the waning and sleep deprived hours between twilight and the next round of shells, fragmenting my mind– what was left of it anyway.
I wasn’t tired; I wasn’t coherent and was coming unglued as well. The scattered pile of ornate things, electronics and a silent television- my only companion; made sense to me and only me, any other person who’d have come in contact would have thought I was hoarding; and maybe I was. The practicality of insanity is that it is very unattractive to the unfamiliar. Fuck those people.
‘Crazy’ becomes a relative term and it still means little to me.
I knew the advent of my disorder was at hand after a late night session like this (and there were so many) and my first episode was a lucid dream or the worst ‘reality show’ you’ve ever seen, because no one could feel like this; no one in their right mind. In the waking hours, or the 25th hour of this new awareness; I would send text messages to my wife like “I am a god; I can smash through walls”. It must have been terrifying for her. Any true friends I had during this period must’ve wanted to float me out to sea and watch from the shoreline. It’s safer from a distance; anyone who’s been to the psych ward will tell you that.
And who would risk safety to push me to dry land?? I would have bailed on myself.
I should have been terrified but instead I was thrilled.