Sometimes it gets so bad that I stop drinking or smoking, or, god forbid, both. Sometimes it gets so bad I think I might do something really stupid like pray, or move to California, or get a tattoo of an empty pale blue dot, or throw myself to the lionesses, or write poetry, or call her. Sometimes it gets so bad that lilacs turn black. Sometimes it gets so bad that I make statues of happy people out of the rocks at rock bottom. Sometimes it gets so bad, that I shoot hummingbirds with 24 caliber regrets.
There are sidewalks soaked with apathy. There are ladders that were intentionally built to be almost tall enough to reach the fruit on the tree that your soul aches for. You'll thank yourself later. It will always mean more to you if it is constantly just beyond your fingertips.
Sometimes it gets so bad that I see the ghost of the person I thought you were In the smiling eyes of a brand new human. I see fire escapes and think of the best hypomanic episode I ever had. And then It gets so bad all of it rushes back and the knife that once cut me free guts me. Sometimes it gets so bad that I dare it to get worse. And then it does and I start to laugh like some kind of *******. Sometimes it gets so bad that I start to love myself. Sometimes it gets so bad that caterpillars make me cry. Sometimes it gets so bad I melt away, and all that is left is the music of revelry. Sometimes it gets so bad that I wear down cinder blocks with my tongue, and those black lilacs don't get their color back, but I see them as August.