Rains of happiness are scanty and scarce
Darkness and pains blow perennially
Build shifting sand dunes, where you lose yourself

Occasionally I indulge in the ordinary
I capture the animals, talk to them, care for them
But that is occasional, mostly, I torment them

Darkness is what I truly adore and admire
It is its depths that fascinate me
The deeper I go, the deeper it gets

Bridges that I build all collapse
The momentary bliss of being normal
is a ******* illusion, that I try cling to

These reveries when they last
I feel happy, content, confident
Though I fear, soon they will vanish

And then would come the tentacular times
Difficult it then gets to differentiate
What is real from what is not.

I get a bit anxious, paranoid and schizoid
It's not as bad as it is for the sufferers
But it is a ******* anyway

Sometimes they last hours
Sometimes days and weeks
And at times, years

The worst part is that I won't even know
When the sandstorms take place of the rains
Later when I do, it seems impossible to get out

The triggers can be really subtle
But the madness they bring along is not
Sometimes the hot winds blow for no reason

Focus and conviction, I lack
Hence whatever I hold dear
I lose

Sometimes I feel like stopping to breathe
To finally end, the infinite loop of endless loops
The clusterfuck of gloom, a dance of dismay

I have tried building defence mechanisms
But whatever it is, it mutates and manifests
In ways that are different from before

I know nothing holds any meaning
All this goes nowhere and will be worthless
But there are a few happy moments

My experiences may not be the best
But when there are rains
I tend to touch the skies

And I have learned
To carry on, even in the storms
But how far I would go?