Alone, engulfed in all that you mean
Like demonic song from a rabid cat
Try, then try harder to hear – no understanding
Please forgive my dull impotent efforts
Tearful cackles rise up from skin-covered psyche
End the aching bones and nerves, shout I the groveler
Utter my name inept negotiator – whispers worthless, faceless
Shattering innards’ mirrors – only the warped ones
It’s me! Dear God, I am marred! A guilty gasp.
Take a profound breath – It’s me who is bravely altered
Proper this – human leech
And prudent that – boring, sterile
Evict them both right now
Don every inappropriate thought
Talk? No, only shout too loud
Declare in thunderous voice
All pallid empty heads are dead
Lets slay a few timid dragons
Then slaughter the horrid brave
Rebellion will exsanguinate
Placid spirit air – we will breathe
Lofty endeavors incite chuckles
And nothing more than fatigue
Temperate solace shields all again
Above and below a thing called skin
An aching, a pain
A quiet, manic sadness
So used to it, but loathe it
Rush to isle of solace – a little refuge
Husbandly nape of neck
Subtle scents arise
Noble savior’s neck – receives bipolar kiss
Obediently medicated per MD
Using all my coping skills
Loathing is frantically bubbling
I am stable boredom incarnate!
Frida’s corrupted spine, dead baby
and Diego’s wandering member
Small framed pain and twisted life
Beautifully, grotesquely ruins me
Kahlo’s artistic corpse laughs
and refuses to engulf a pleading me
Lunacy, nonetheless, was a nice visit
Dear Lord, I beseech you
Knowing I am far beneath you
Have pity on my fractured soul
Driven by demon tentacles
In troubled brain, I lost control
See the tempest on my face
Throughout life my pain endures
O God, I’m not worthy to address you
Still bless me with a little mercy
This bipolar fears of going to hell
Go on and run, run away
Away from the good and safe
Straight to soulless sky
Hear no more painful ‘I love you’
Ringing in your guilty ears
Feel no more promising embraces
That don’t belong to you
Your manic mind loves this
Why trust this crazed hyper truth
It feels damn good and real
Replacing medicated skin
Oh God, damn feelings coming
Go home in failed tears and try again
Jimmy Choo shoes? A definite maybe
Free drinks? Nothing’s free baby
Gas bill? Can wait a while more …
Louis Vuitton Limited Edition handbag on sale!?
Or pay rent 2 months in arrears?
So what? I’d love to move again anyway!
Hell! Mr. Repo man found my car!
Screw the world! My LV handbag is all I need
Is this bipolar, flighty or just plain crazy?
Microscopic bits of a you-and-me sea
Dying quietly – free of fanfare
Let us be food stuff for the seen and unseen
Living – a silly state of conscienceness
Selfishly consume the food, drink and air of day
Caution – the small see all things relevent or not
Acknowledge – the large worship only their massiveness
Loathing both, all and myself – I take my leave
Centered in a sea housed tempest
Seeking a calmer me
Beaten and battered by manic forces
My skin finds it liberating
Then finds it wretched
Keep seeking for a sane me
In medicated waters
I joyfully swim and require no rescuing
Flawed skin is on fire, beneath the surface
Depressed brain doesn’t care
Moments pass in slow motion
Why are thoughts unsheathed like a dagger?
Crazed me wants to know
Fear of something or nothing envelopes
Next anger abruptly explodes
Sacred tears escape useless eyes
To cut or not becomes option
For now, the thought of cutting is enough
Medicated Words 