Bi-polar

when it comes it comes, this self void hysteria of massive consequence, taking us high. its wings take us to a place not unlike the flower of opium and the cocoa plant. and we fly into mania.

outside staring in and inside staring out

their actions would be me I understand they are me they think me this is me

For the next to follow

It emerges to life- From the spout of something greater, It latches to the remnants of its predecessor, Feeding from the residue, It swells and grows, Faster than it can support,

Rags to Ritzes... (IP) this week...

um well er... a poem

To Be or Not So

but I must shortly take time to rest, a chance to relieve my views ---life and its baseball curves
Cherry

Seashell Venus

With her laughter, light as lacy foam and her spritely eyes, bright as pearls; across the seashore, she shall roam; my pretty, precious, seashell girl. Wet sand sugaring her fingers
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Her Hidden Garden

In pursuit of her fortune In chase of her fame She neglected things once golden to her Dismissed them as gilt, until they gathered dust
Cherry

Nothing lasts forever

I don’t know when it was I got so sentimental. I don’t even like gardening and the problem with growing your own is you either have a glut or nothing at all.

Shells

We dance upon a plane of ice A skin across a vat of blood. How brittle is this skin of self, How thin the ice we tread; A crack - and all that was white Is red.

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