my bones are impulsive
and they rattle and shake
jutting and puncture
each time i twist
each shade of my mother used
to say i did it for attention
but my manic-depressive
spectrum yearned to feel something
much more special than the chroma of love
as my disorder matured i saw sweeping
patterns that flummoxed the grass i stepped on
i phased in and out of gravity too much
to feel how i used to feel about you