Mania. Everything was good when you were with me.

I felt normal. The chains bolted to my eyelids where magically gone, like the money in your bank account after a heavy, drunken, stupor & forthright gambling spree.

The spear in my side that your twin brother, depression, threw inside me was no longer twisting up my insides. Thank you.

This feels like a goodbye letter but I'm actually trying to hold on to you. You give me life. Your twin takes it away and he rash-burns my face in it.

I was accomplishing all the things; skipping from one stone to the next without feat. "Flutter your wings and dance," is your motto.

But like all good things, you drive me away, knowing that I'll see you again.

Try as I might, I remain faithful to you, but you commit adultery every week.

Sometimes you demand my time, even when I'm low. I cry for hours with your natural dichotomy, not because I can't decide--I can--but because you and your twin rip me apart in twain, changing my reality as sure as the rain falls in the Amazon.

The demons call out to me, whispering evil into my mind. I believe every evil thing when I am not armed with your brilliance. I lose that perspective, every time, and sometimes immediately.

Your twin brother and cousin visit me early in the morning right before bed time. If my doubts and fears are real, then my mind's eye is experiencing a real reality, and thus I am as I feel, like a plastic bag tumbling in the wind.

Yet, everyone reminds me that I am but a joke and a comic, one which not even you can trust.

The biggest asset I lose when you choose to cheat on me is your energy--that precious flow that bears my creative passion.

But now I am barren, an unfit conduit that is incapable of maintaining that flow. The demon upon me powerfully weaves its tapestry of sludge that encases my mind.

My mind, it's the only thing I have left. And yet, I can never trust it.

You've lied to me before and you'll lie to me in the future.

But for now, I'll have to make do with your half-truths.

Until next time.

Stability!
Not constantly in the torrent of your mind
do you find ease in the pulse of reality
where your fingers get a break from the heavy weight of your soul
hanging off a cliff at 20 below

My best friend!
Today we will get all the things done
and shown to be efficacious in life
only to climb up from the cliff
and then to bear witness to the depths below

My worst enemy!
In the mire of the pit I lay, motionless
molasses encases my mind and therefore my body also
no will power to fight that arduous fight
ready to end all that is and all that shall be

The ride!
On this roller coaster, I muster the energy,
somehow, made it through spell after spell
the grievance my own mind has against all that I am
which allows these words to boil a sweet tea

Poetry is for those who write it,
not for those who read it.

Music--
a heartbeat of
the infinite universe!

I. There exists only the Fractal.
II. The Fractal contains itself.
III. Everything else is derived.

Dear Beebabe,

I know you're not feeling well
The torrent of your own mind can become
The dagger that slices you and makes you frail
But it will end soon, then you'll hum
To find that you never really left home

And when that day arrives
I'll be by your side
And then you'll ask, where did I get these knives?
And then I'll say, they came from the wide
Hole in your mind

When you're recovered
You won't remember the day
That these knives did more than smothered
The bright flame that makes you sway
Your hips when you're feeling gay

The slits in your consciousness
Won't compare to the inner you
That resides in my blessedness
You will ask, why did you allow me to chew
On my beebro? Dear, you seem so renewed!

I'll reply, because even though
You're not my flesh and bone
You're own love for me saw me through
The weeks you sat on depression throne
I knew that one day you'll find your way home

That you never did leave.
I saw you through these hard times
Because I knew your mind would cleave
To see my own heart and soul chime
In the tune that makes you mine.

And mine you are
And shall never not be
Because you mean more to me
Than my very own bare
Heart, soul, and mind
Given solely to us, the beebro three

I'll hear you say, I'm soory
I didn't mean to make you woory
I guess I just choose my own folly
That bittersweet throne, golly!
I'll say, dear, miss molly

Tonight we take the trolley
Climb aboard, we'll go rolling
Through the hills to make you see fully
And not pretend we represent Fern Gully
And you'll see that depression is just a bully

That in the end, will never,
Ever,
Change the you inside

Live in your moment now.
Your mind will heal tomorrow.

But for today rest in the knowledge
That I've also been through the sludge

Today I just hope to be
The bright light for you

That you miraculously were for me.

With love and compassion,
Signed therein:

Me, your soulmatage.