Bipolar Poems AKA The Shit In My Head

thought the sands of time are forever shifting,
i still suffocate under, buried,
and nothing comes to uncover me
the winds of change become simply gone
and convalescence escapes me again
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(A thousand phrases so carefully hidden in satin and shrapnel)
i can see why you wouldn't want to uncover me
the science of understanding is the theory of infinity
[nothing is seen when the sun is blinding you
you always end up clearer when the night is through]
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so close to becoming too far
i don't really want to act this out
forever scratching my mind with eighteen pieces of broken glass
she's walking fucked up and faded now
i asked for a room with a view
oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Confessions of a Manic Depressive

i don't think i want this
i don't think i can sustain
it's like the French gargoyles
it's like seeing things for centuries but never being able to speak of them
it's eternal white walls stained with black shadows
it's opening the window but never pulling back the curtains
it's going through life screaming but never making a fucking sound
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
on and on
being perpetually present
but never actually being there
concentrate on the paper
concentrate on the sidewalk
think about the action
never about emotion
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