#moodswing
I am the pendulum that swings
left.
right. left.
right.
left.
right.
I find myself in equilibrium, now, nothing is afflicting me.
the slightest nudge-- a gentle push
and
now I'm swinging violently.
left.
right. left.
right.
left.
right.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
Why can't I think?
I'm left.
I'm right.
I'm left.
I'm right.
I'm left.
I'm right.
I can't breathe.
I've lost my sight--
blinded by the salted tears I breathe, and choking on my tongue,
I can't think.
I can't speak.
Why are you screaming at me?
I am the pendulum that swings
left.
right. left.
right.
left.
right.
Breathe. Stop Crying. It's fine. I'm fine.
I'm alright,
I'll just brace myself for another ******* night of swinging
left.
right. left.
right.
left.
right.
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 3:45 AM UTC
Your vengeful mood swings
Taste like a fury long forgotten
As your intrepid feelings sing
One's mind would easily be stolen
Haunted by the melodies it speaks
My very consciousness begins to shake
Reaching the limit, forcing its peak
Yet your voice slithers away like a snake
Unheard, unspoken like a gust of wind
The phantom presence of this anger
Crawls on my flesh leaving me skinned
As it finally seeps into....I feel the danger
You are but the darkness of your mood
This tension is putting the world on tilt
The snap will be one to scar with blood
And ours shall be stained to the very hilt
As our blades clash again in endless battle
One that has all but begun at the edge
Nov 18, 2020
Nov 18, 2020 at 4:58 AM UTC
I scream
When broken a dream
In the middle of a darknight
Uncontrollable was the inner fight
Woke up sweating with the heart's race
Walked up to find some solace
What soothed me the best
Made me feel blessed
Put my smile back
Trust this hack
A large scoop
of soft rich
icecream
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Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 7:01 AM UTC
Every day is a different story,
But cycles tend to form.
Cycles, cycles, cycles, cycles, cycles.
Compulsive, depressive, manic, crazy.
It’s like a CD skip- skip- skip- skipping,
But it’s not like she can remember why she was mad in the first place.
Doesn’t recall the fight you yelled at her for,
Can’t seem to forget her love for you though.
Roller coasters are her favorite.
Did you hear me? IRONY AT ITS FINEST.
Up and down and around and around,
Riding and being thrown by the waves over and over.
Thank you for putting up with her swinging,
Back and forth, like two-face.
She can’t control it, she didn’t want to be this way,
But God said she was strong enough...isn’t she?
At least she has good music tastes,
Riding around, the stations changing with her beautiful moods.
Smoke blowing out the windows,
She’s the one the music talks about: Here and Gone without a trace.
Do you think she ever gets tired?
Tired trying to keep up with her day to day phases?
Pha- Pha- Phases like the moon.
Beauty ever changing, but silent. Stuck in her head.
You love her though right?
I mean, think about it.
When it’s a good day, she’s so understanding and chill and all-around perfect.
Those days make every other worth it.
Right?
God bless the cycles, cycles, cy- cy- cycles.
For one whole day she’s uncontrollable.
Asking you a million questions and wanting to hug you for as long and as tight as she can.
Kisses, “I love yous,” excitement, annoyance.
“Can we get a pet octopus?
Oh pretty pretty please?
Can I cut my hair or dye it bright pink?”
“You hate pink” you say, but there she goes again.
Down down down the rabbit hole.
Off again she goes.
Hair flying in the breeze, that perfume you bought her still on your shirt.
Irri- irri- irritate- irritation.
The day very next, not even 24 hours yet,
Tears falling down her face, rivers of black eyeliner.
She doesn’t get out of bed.
“Baby what’s wrong?”
Nothing is ever truly wrong.
It’s like a weight on her chest, suppressing her every move.
A deep, black hole in the pit of her stomach, isn’t that what she said?
Misery at its finest. Almost like she’s already dead.
Why put up with her then?
Why ride this roller coaster?
Why hold her tight when she laughs?
Why hold her tight when she cries?
You see, why would anyone in the first place?
In fact, there’s no perks to dating a bipolar girl.
Not one.
Not at all.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
i'm so angry
my face feels pale
empty space no art-
ist wanted to draw in
i want something
to fill this void behind
sharp teeth: vomiting
coffee grinds and blood
over my favorite novel
in a dream where my
glasses are still
broken and there's
always been wet bed
sheets, red is nothing
is smothering
oh, i want.
need pain
love leaving i've
never craved laughter
no one here is looking at me
the eyes of hungry gods are
glued to my skin tearing them
selves apart leaving me leaving me
to cope with one less layer
i think there are devils in
the clouds that haunt me.
oh, i need.
i need a cigarette
somewhere between
home and hell
taste fog water
catch a breath
push everything
down with old
blood coffee
splash water
on my face:
who the **** is that?
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
Snatched in betwixt'
The Shifting
and Switching
All midst the alters..
and moods..
The hasty cyclone..
The Rapid cycling..
The Stumbling..
The hurling..
One after other
All these emotions'
transposing-
From exhilaration.
grandiosity.
The loquacious episodes..
To Exasperation.
Despondency.
Despise.
Remorse.
The floating. dripping.salty..rampage.
And
amid all frantic..
all the chaos..
There..
this effete voidness..
Gleaning selves up'
unhanding 'em again
Gleaning.
Unhanding.
Gleaning And unhanding .
Over and over
Again
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 8:46 AM UTC
Wrapped in a pair of in-commensurable clothing
covered under this thick layers of condemn
frigid thoughts:
they crack ! zoom !
soon shalt it be
whacked ? cleaved ?
possessed by these insecurities..
these dilemmas..
grinning! grinding!
" you dont have sufficient defenses to avoid me "
" you dont have enough exit to ******* escape me "
just because i dont own some 3.5 inches hanging between my thighs
just to extend itself to some 6.5 inches
when it needs to be..
feeded ! shaked !
yes i have been concealed..
enslaved by this hypotrical rapid advanced state of moral decay
not to ever break the treaty..
the treaty ..they chocked me with
all long the genesis
when the sawbones miserably proclaimed " oh its a girl "
but never did she declared how many .
now:
trip over each
hold onto the other
between the mania and back
i am left with a zilch
hollow ! sunken !
nothing but these several Me's.
nothing but these fabricated decorum.
nothing..
but these everything :
I SHRUG!!
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 2:24 AM UTC
My girl has an unpredictable swing
She loves like a relapsing stoner
High today, clean the next
One day she insists she's mine
And the next she pretends I'm air
So I take note of that extra I love you
She says on days I'm her everything
And save them for days that I'm nothing.
My girl has a reckless swing.
But she will always be my girl.
Mar 30, 2017
Mar 30, 2017 at 2:03 PM UTC