I only write poems when I'm manic
I collect words when I panic
Gather them up in a picnic basket
To spread them all out before me
On a rainy afternoon
But I am inside, you see
Where the rain can't touch me

I spread out my words
Like peanut butter and jam
Putting them together all over again

But now the bread's soggy
And the jam too is watery
My eyes drip liquid glass
Reflecting every part of me
The mania has ceased
My energy deceased
Sadness now caresses me
Exhaustion slipped inside of me
I guess even inside
Somehow the rain found me