I am addicted to the spill

It is a fine life recipe for the mad

perpetual messes with no guesses on origin

only frenzied f*cks for forgetting
only hysterical means for elation

My muse lies in moments when the mind breaks

when chemicals mate and mistake lunacy for love

My best is when we clutch and deconstruct like dynamite

sighs and sickness mingle for comfort

My anatomy is made up of patchwork

but this smile is genuine

My tendencies often tumble into free fall

but I've learned not to scream

Sometimes I trip into transparency and I find you alive and well

But this mind is a stray and the name of the game is connection

no matter the damage done

The tools we use for sanity often times  perpetuate a prolonged disconnection

Its all so unsettling

when my first instinct is laughter

Some people just aren't meant for peace