Tis the season to be falling
Tis the season to be gay
Tis the season to be flying
Higher, farther, away ~

Chains loosened she calls to her mother
An earthy musk, grains of sand, mud on her face. A scruffy mutt laying listlessly on the tarmac, ribs rattling with the effort of each breath. She is home.

Muted flames thrashing in its cage, raging in the midst of civilization, a crucifixion of sorts. Tearing at its hair wildly, the masses trickling by, mouth agape in a silent scream. Ashes mixed into pieces of scalp, begging to be found.

Oblivious to a sound like thunder, clapping in one's ears. Strangled scream lost in translation, a language so old none could decipher. Fear wielding urgency, a disguise of desperation, depression.

Refusing to be still.

Schizoaffective bipolar type is hell’s disorder.
It is a whirlwind of the curious mind.
A fusion of emotions, brick by boring brick.
Thoughts askew and twisted like twigs.  

Mania, depression, and psychosis sleep together.
Producing a break out of pandemonium.
Exulting energy, dejection, and voices taunt.
A battle within that seems to haunt.

Medication and therapy, tools of aid.
Will tackle hell’s disorder and put it in Pandora's box.
Be wary and do not open it no matter what.
Or the symptoms will crawl over every inch of your skin.

Put the pain in the past because you can still live your life.
You can work a 9 to 5, go on hikes, travel, and ride a bike.
What is something you look forward to? They always ask.
I sigh and answer: freedom.

Can you not hear yourself?
Do you see no issue with your personality?
If someone else talked that way about themself,
I highly doubt they'd receive your pity.

I'm a ******* genius.
I'm gifted to an insane degree.
How come you guys can't see this?
Why is everyone so mean to me?

I'm beautiful. I'm incredible.
I'm a hero. You're a spectator.
I'm important and you're negligible.
I'm the president, but I'm no dictator.

This hell that consumes me
Gets the best of me
What have I done to put up with this suffering
Months of depression
And then light shines bright
Welcome to the manic world voices said
There is no exit
From this cycle
It is like being buried alive
Crying and screaming
Laughing and running all over the world

As the Everburning rises in to prospective,

I gaze out of my window,

Using that moment to be reflective.

An introspective moment that swarms the temple like flies.

No matter the weather outside,

The rain always makes it inside.

Darling you need to eat
But to pick up the fork I would have to put down the pen
And I cannot do that

Darling you must have something to drink
Why? The ink is satisfying enough

Darling please, you must stop and rest
I can rest when I am dead
Until then there is too much to do
Too many things that still must be written about him, for him, because of him

But darling, why is he the reason you will die for writing  
Because he is the reason I live for writing

i’m the rook
that took to my branch,
tree of silhouette lightning,
pecking the pelt off my prey
i’m casting them away for the sport of it.
if i take off,
like how the tide that comes and crashes,
foam and salt spitting,
eventually draws back, retreating back to the sea,
i won’t return in the same familiar form.
thorns for feet, a midnight beak.
i’ll take refuge in knowing you shan’t
remember me
but i’m the rook that pierced you,
strung you
hung you on my tree.

I'm a "vlogger" poet,
or a poet who "vlogs"
through words.
Filling your Home pages
with my own latest news,
brand new discoveries:
I'm an alcoholic
and probably bipolar too.

Me and the weather can't make up our minds
Can't make a promise, but promise to try
There's no control here, the pressures to high
Me and the weather can't make up our minds

Me and the weather come raining down
Falling in sheets and flooding the town
Someone forgive me cause I don't know how
Me and the weather come raining down

Me and the weather are scorching the earth
Beating the rays on my skin til in hurts
Drying the seas and starving the dirt
Me and the weather are scorching the earth





Me and the weather are coming on spring
Dipping our toes, flexing our wings
Out past the misty there's something that sings
Me and the weather are coming on spring.