Running towards a freight train headed at full speed towards nowhere is the equivalent of loving a girl with bipolar

It seemed like an adrenaline rush until the impact

My manias go like this;

I love you more than that couch cushion loves your ***

more than that fist loved his face,

more than sense.

because manias don’t make sense.

My depressions went like this;

black was the brightest color I could see yet

I still needed sunglasses to make eye contact with the reaper

It went like this;

last night I tried eating spiders to give myself an excuse to feel afraid of myself

you held me up until my legs atrophied and there was no point anymore

loving a girl with bipolar a game ending in

manic darkness

There is a species of Jellyfish that is immortal

deceased people can still get goosebumps

blind people do not see the color black, they see nothing.

these are the facts that I read as I try to distract myself from thinking about

how you called me three times last night

begging me to answer

hearing my phone cry into the silence my hazy margarita mind has created

facts, facts, facts

immortal Jellyfish

goosebumps

blind

I didn’t answer, I pressed decline and rushed to the bathroom

to gag your memory from my stomach into the porcelain bowl

I fell asleep on the bathroom floor

i awoke in my *****

wishing I would die

with goosebumps

and blind to what was happening to me.

Sitting, waiting
writing once more
it was a blessing of time
that had opened a door

Behind it were words
that begged to be heard
but needed assembling
so I brandished my sword

Putting pen unto paper
arranging them with great care
those words became poetry
a breath of fresh air

I find myself alone
even the cats have slept in
there is a strange quiet that comforts the soul

Within my mind
there plays the soft music
the sounds of tranquility
dew dripping into the silent pool
doves gently cooing in the branches

I close my eyes
the moments pass
the music of remembrance continues

I have no need to seek peace
for it has found me

Though my shell
is of no further use in this world
my spirit soars

Chapter two
brings new life

They came from the other side of the great water
they brought with them their customs
their religion
their guns
the only right way to live
was their way
and they had no tolerance for what they found
for here
at the end of their crossing
was a new people
people of a sort that they had never experienced

In the first days
it was these new found people
that helped them to survive
showing them the ways of this new land
but as these who had made this pilgrimage
learned to survive
they no longer found a use
for those who worshiped the earth
rather that their god

Did I mention
that they also brought with them
diseases

Today those diseases that they brought with them
are still rampant in our country
bigotry and hate are everywhere

Is there a man more blind
than he who has closed his mind
to refuse to consider that which is new
his growth is halted
his path in life
becomes one of stagnation
overgrown with an algae
that chokes away any freshness
that his spirit requires
to remain useful
even to himself
everything about him
begins to develop the smell
of rotting vegetation

To love
is not small
in fact
it's giving your all

Dying to self
when another has need
that's how it is seen
through that very deed

Oh yes, it can hurt
at times mortal pain
and sometimes frustration
can drive you insane

Yet you continue to give
and you'd have it no other way
not just for the moment
but until your dying day

Yes, this is true love
it's not infatuation
yet it's so seldom found
outside of imagination

If you've got it you're lucky
one of the few
and the blessings you have
are as droplets of dew

The dew is so fresh
these droplets so many, so fine
are a picture of love
brought forth from a mine

A mine that's been emptied
producing a treasure to give
to one truly special
for as long as they live

The world it is mine
if it is here you wish to stay
one thing to remember
you'll live in it my way
for there is no variance
and no we do not play

You've now heard the rules
what is it that you say
accept or decline
there is only today
it is time to decide
or your body to go on display

The bird
in the cage
each day
woke with rage
squawking till loosed
the man
loved his bird
and his thoughts
often heard
of his wonderment
about its behavior
blind
to what love was
the bird died
became only fuzz
what he couldn't see
was the birds need
to be free

The sound of the wooden flute
it's as if I'm listening to the song of the warbler
those that visit at sunset
bringing rest and relaxation to the weary

Their song resting on a bed
of an ever present drone
of the didjeridoo
comforts and quiets me

There, the stick
beating on a block of wood
I feel as if there are
droplets of dew
falling from leaves from a tree above me
into a pool of water at my feet

It's as if the water of life
my life
is returning home

As the shamisens strings come alive
I see a field of wildflowers
they wave gently in the breeze
that is brought forth from its music

Peace is mine

Happiness abounds

My spirit is renewed