Nightmare Time… Again

It’s late at night. Early in the morning, to be more accurate. I find myself crying in the pseudo-darkness that precedes sunrise. Wanting to break down from organs, to muscle, to nerves, to cell, all the way to atoms- and then vanish into the thin air that permeates time-space. Wanting for there to be a safety net that catches this momentum gaining fall. My brain falls into inertia, allowing my bipolar judgement make key decisions in this hour of need.

Enough rhetoric. In depressive exhaustion I wait for sleep. Yet it doesn’t show up. Not for a long while. Time passes and I’m stuck here, unable to do shit. You see, my cognition lost consciousness some hours ago, what a fucking bitch. Hence, in dumb stupid boredom I keep waiting, in this awake nightmare. The Sun rises, and I’m still in tears.

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time now waterproof

drops like paint brushes on my skin

hints of salt burn the edge of my lips

along with the stream of makeup – called waterproof

i can’t feel my heart, or my breath

but the blood pounding in my brain

tick, tock, tick, tock

time takes forever

as my thoughts go into labor

deliver ideas that surely die

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tick, tock, tick, tock

time takes forever

as the 2nd generation ideas

steal my mind from my weak grasp

like a broken faucet whose water leaks

into a clogged sink bound to overflow

my eyes keep spilling water on this – my worn face

and it makes an escape not without burning first

not so pretty

(rewind) she’s a little gorgeous_confident_hilarious_very intelligent_fabulous_quite effervescent

she’s both good & evil_ purity&temptation_slave&dominatrix_both high&low_inside&out

from erotic vixen to porcelain doll_ suddenly silent_motionless_frozen expression_tears iced in her eyes

between moans, dark, candlelight, wetness and lingerie- he takes a closer look

a weak_vulnerable_paranoid_delusional_hostile_insane_ manicdepressive

she’s damaged goods, as worthy as yesterday’s news

she’s not so pretty, not as she looks

but she no longer hurts as much_for she has learned_sooner or later_it’s bound to happen anyway

(insert title here)

When do I stop crying and start living once more?

It sure as hell isn’t now. Sadly so. Or maybe not.

All is transient. But it comes back! But it’s transient. But it always returns!

Shut_ the_fuck_ up! You. Idiot. Stupid. Fat. Bitches! Playing dominatrix here…

When does the arguing stop for once, just in time for a minute, or 2 of silence in here?

It’s transient and chronic and reocurring, among other things.

Yeah_and_it_took_you _this_long _to _see_it? Good. Luck. With. That.

 

Bitter+Sweet_Not Bittersweet

BITTER

My life has fallen in little shards of multicolored glass – scattered allovereverywhere

There is no painkiller, no escape route, no guidance – just a gathering of isolated windsofdesperation

My mind is drifting into a far away pocket of time-space – folding unto my stupidmanicdepressive brain

Cantleavethefuckinghouse-soparanoidtoomanyanxietyattacksallatonce

SWEET

Introspectingdecodes some notes of such dissonance that plagues me

I’ve becomeawareof these types of self replicating and mutating sequential motions

My mind wanders in both funandterror inducing stages

Istillworkacoolhoteljobwithlotsofpressurenot100%melatelybutworkingnonetheless

NOT BitterSweet

Erratic –lacking so much cohesiveness-that it can’t be construed as a whole but an incompletemismatchedpuzzle

 

It was all bizarre & relatively peaceful

… until it wasn’t. Surprised? I’m not.

Fight or flight- who knows? ‘Cause I don’t know… yet.

Drifting from my hypomania as a growing abyss pushes us in opposite directions.

It won’t stop until one of us falls, and breaks…

perpetuating this cruel joke of life in manic depression.

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Trapped

in the midst of this constantly evolving, sometimes dormant- like a barely perceptible growl just slightly out of sync from my edgy periphery, yet right along the line of paranoia that raises the hairs from my skin, leaving me exposed, open, and vulnerable to the increasingly louder sound of this fear seducing, tear inducing, sight distorting- labyrinth with its sadistic whore hostess. 

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but this labyrinth isn’t circumscribed to a specific square footage -or other space-measuring unit- nor is it outside of me_ there is no fuckin’ escape_ it grows, shifts effortlessly, swallows every small and big thing in my world.

the whore that lives there is none other than well…..ME.