Poetry – There’s No I in Bipolar (Oops!)

Slipped down the spiral again, sinking to new highs.  The brain whispered lies, as I climbed a mountain in search of a fountain of youth, forsooth! Loose tooth! (I babble, I love scrabble!)

Brain shattered in shards, winding down a house of cards.  Grinding glass teeth into chunks, (mixed ‘em with raisin bran), laid in a furnace, getting a tan.

Scissors or schisms, made no difference, when up is a cup overflowing in divine, but down is the loss of time.

Jiminy Cricket! Who’s my Gepetto?

I ran to the left and shimmied to the right

In fright of a blight, left blind in plain sight

I can’t, but can I? Demands pile high, so I fly

You wanted a clean house, silent mouse, brain louse.  Forty hours become 80, but who keeps count?

Dollars are blessings as far as they’re concerned. I pushed to the limits, but what did I earn? Exist to exit, I pulled my threads, as they say persist

The fabric ripped, bed stripped, up flipped down, You wouldn’t know, Pinocchio

Pain down the toilet, as knives played crosswords, Words can be weapons, when I love you equals what more can you do?

Candles can burn in every direction, when you smash a mirror, there be more reflections

Melting like wax on a bright summer day, Barbie plastic smile, “Mommy’s okay!”

Twitches and tremors rock the new black

Cocktails and liquor better than crack

Self medicated the blues away, rainbows of optimism, “isn’t this gay?!”

Bleeding on carpets or did I just vomit blood?

Who wants to check under the hood?

Popping pills, doctor bills, cheap thrills, windmills

Am I a corpse playing alive?

There are no lows with how far I can rise

©Daina Frame, 2017

mahbuttitches17.wordpress.com

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