Tag Archives: Bipolar

My Disease

A little thunderstorm runs around my feet

Then skitters under the sofa.

He is one of many.

I see them in my cabinets sometimes

and once walked into millions of them in the attic.

They scattered.


A feral book leaps off his shelf and

onto the lonely sofa I no longer sit on

because I cannot linger.

My disease watches me all the time,

nestled in my skull.

It will attack me from the side

Rip my smiles open and empty them out.


I work all day to stay on the move.

Light is always trying to hide behind the future

so I am constantly pushing millions of beams forward.

The shy scent of water cloaks me

as the desert outside the window searches for me.

More bones are always needed.


My disease sings.

My disease plays.

My disease paints the back

Of my eyelids with sand.


The thunderstorms feed

on my crumbling tears

Lady Lazarus

Lady Lazarus is inconsiderate,

is me,

is leaking.


I’m the jacket I wear when I’m cold,

my body the lampshade

through which my power dims.


Heart half eaten,

a delicacy like mitten snow.


Why are there no bridges through the white?


bridges of scarves

of maniacs

of salacious science?


It is science that brings me a piece of me

in a syringe, in a capsule.


Oh, thank you, Science!


Sunken souls mourn anchors

that brawl beneath the brink.