Nothing is more chilled
than slanted sunrays through pines
trembling with want

Nor nothing worse than
the young cardi’nals trilling
out to the white trees

Voices unfalt’ring
answered only by echoes
of forgotten spring

Cold, thick powder snow
blithely reminds us of the
small, white spring hen eggs

that, forever lost,
cracked among the ****-strewn straw,
oozing into earth—

and I think of you,
whispering back to the birds,
just as lost as they

waiting for pre-spring
dew to unfreeze from the grass
that you may lap it

with painful blue eyes
like black-stripped and impish jays,
looking down on all.

I could feel my face rush with blood I wasn't sure who I was

I could feel the anticipation in the air I knew what I felt is something we'd share

Cause I felt you body press up against mine

and I felt your face in my shoulder and you looked fine

And I felt your embrace for the first time

Cause I felt your bra strap through your shirt and I felt a pulse if was yours for sure

I could see you even though I'd closed my eyes I was shaking even though I was paralyzed

You couldn't believe this real I was scared by what I could feel

What should I do with this? What can I do with this? What should I do with this?
Pure emotion

My Bipolar Disorder is a stout-bodied mammal with horns and cloven hooves.

There are two types of My Bipolar Disorder:
Domestic, and Mountain.

My Bipolar disorder typically spends its days grazing on grasses

My Bipolar Disorder will dig depressions in the ground to sleep, rest, and bathe in.

My Bipolar disorder is super social during the winter, and tends to go solo during the summer.

My Bipolar Disorders tail usually points up! (Unless it is frightened or sick)

My Bipolar Disorder is extremely Curious and Intelligent.

Once My bipolar disorder has discovered a weakness in its fence, it will exploit it repeatedly.

There are over 300 distinct breeds of My Bipolar Disorder.

Within' minutes of being born, my Bipolar Disorder is up and walking around.

My bipolar disorder used to live in the white house with Abraham Lincoln.

One day an ethiopian Herder walked in on My Bipolar Disorder liteally bouncing off of cliff walls because it just Discovered Coffee.

My Bipolar Disorder has four stomachs

The horns of My Bipolar Disorder are typically removed to reduce injury to humans.

My Bipolar disorder will explore anything new or unfamiliar in its surroundings, mainly with its mouth and tongue.

My bipolar disorder readily reverts to the wild if given the opportunity.

My Bipolar Disorder is more susceptible to Parasites and other infectious diseases when it is mismanaged.

My bipolar disorder has had a lingering connection with Satanism and pagan religions

My Bipolar Disorder is considered a "clean" animal by jewish dietary laws.

According to Zeus
As long as you leave it's bones whole,
My Bipolar disorder will keep coming back to life.

I woke up
In a dark place
With four goats around me
Dancing.

The dance was demonic
Satanic
Hallucinogenic
Static.

They moved
Yet stayed in place
They sang demonic tunes
Yet did not open their mouth.

I paniced
Screamed
Shivered
and finally ran.

I kicked one
and it Unfolded
Exploded
Into butterflies.

The other goats burst and shaped
Defaced
Recombobulated
A man.

The man had a mask
of Clay
My fist felt the clay
The clay felt my fist.

The mask
Shattered
Corroded
Disintegrated.

I saw fear
I saw dismay
I saw dread
I saw me.

He spoke
"Pathetic"
"Disgusting"
"I'm you? How cliche?".

I shook
I saw crows
I burst to butterflies
The crows ate me.

I was on the floor
I overdosed
I ****** up
I should do this again.

My newest buddy
baby goat Vortex
climbs my leg and
wants to be scratched

His brother Hope
bewildered
is seemingly convinced
that I will eat him where he stands

I tell them often
I love you both
and if it's up to me
you will both die here
of ripe old age

Maybe you’re mistaken
       when you think about what’s out there,
You attribute ev’ry stimulus
       to winged things from books,

Mistaking accidental circumstances
       for essential causes,
There isn’t really anything
       that God conveys with looks.

Perhaps it is hard to face the truth:
       we’re just meat bags with will,
Which slowly rot away until
       the day when we’re forgotten

Needlessly dissecting
       every move and every inner thought,
Attempting to discover
       what makes us all so very rotten.

Take a deep breath
And hold it in
Until you feel it all
...Fading away

Slowly toward death
All of us fall
Someday we’ll feel it all
...Fading away

Through my goat mouth, it’s true,
       you can hear me bleating,
Like a little lamb who’s lambier
       than lamby-lambs can be,

But yes in fact it’s bike tires,
       and tin cans that I’m eating,
And I feel my goat heart beating
       and... I want to flee.

Our Pyrenees mix
is afraid of the small goats
he lives to harass

Goats are Nature's own
ambulating Demolition Derby
in hilarious miniature

Together
Laughter / inception
An Amazing twist


heads over heels
having climbed
Only slightly

More dangerous trees

You mumblers and raspers
Of resp'rat'ry rattle:
Open your throats!
Forsake ye! the gaspers,
You quoters of cattle
And prattle of goats!

Or lay ye with horses
Whose tongue ne'er divorces
Those ivory choppers,
Those sibilant stoppers;
You lispers: beware,
Whether stallion or mare,
While you nibble your oats!

Stop your speech-stumbling!
Go suckle an udder
You dizzy, damp calfs!
Restrain your talk-tumbling,
And swallow your stutter
Nor utter foul laughs!

You outspoken nags
Mimic bolt-broken stags
As you bleed allegations
Down paths of my patience
And clatter your antlers;
What heavy-hoofed ranters
For no one's behalf!