SPWC

Despair

The rose was beautiful for a day;
like me, it hung its head
on its neck
in resignation.
____________________________

Out of Sync (for Katie)

No physical disease can compare
to the illness of the mind.
The fine tunings out of sync:
always on the brink of mood swinging.
In a manic-panic, fleeing from, or to, glee -
falling, careening
colliding against a massive wall
of depression;
the compression against the heart -
can't jump start the beats.
Too many tears,
not enough energy to get out of bed
to look at the sun,
living by the moon instead.
________________________________________

Caving In

I'm wasting away inside my head.
Escape my soul: running away, I leave my shell behind to erode.
So much ocean, so much sand -
where is the magic wand I need to wave over, around
above, below, inside,
in-between?
I want to ride on the streaming waves of winds that blow everywhere
and nowhere ...
through this space this place:
earth sky wind water love hate depair madness complaint.

I herd sanity into a small corral in my brain.

My arms stretch out beside me as I twirl swirl twist turn;
I reach out one more time -

before I cave in on myself.