when an unfathomable loss is
felt
my silken demeanor
he is an endless stream of
mania coalesced into
two dimensional conversations and
a boring boring world
without losing anything
normal natural nurturing
tutelage of a
dying death, a stench of
old, a stench of vulnearability
a stench he cannot stand
he cannot stand
he wishes a hasty
escape
escapade, ecstatic esotericism
the world has killed him
once more, succesfully
at places he thought he couldn't die
at places he thought
he always thought
when the blue comes
the blue waiting with its
obnoxious
dark, endless
mouth
glistening teeth that attract him
he rests
(this poem is about mental health and specifically bipolar disorder. To all of you staying strong, much love. It can be fought. The world still loves you. There are reasons to still live.)
YOU ARE READING
Revèuse
Poetry"Everyday we prepare a face, to face the faces we must face." TS Eliot this book will never end, it's a way for me to keep pieces of me safe.
