Toxic

Feeling like I can't connect
The dots between you and me,
I close in on myself and shut down.

Mental beration is a state of mind
And all I wanted was to feel--
So beautifully!

Now, what was so carefree,
Has lost hope and courage
Until finding you seems impossible

And I wouldn't wish myself on
My worst enemy,
Let alone you, my love.

If only there was a way to
Hold all this damage together
To make believe that everything
Is fine

Then maybe I could trust myself to you
Maybe I wouldn't feel like poison,
Full of toxicity.

I want to feel, in ways I never have before,
In ways I never could have before,
But it's hard without the buffer of mania
So I drink coffee so I can create the
Delusion of mania--made by me

Is it enough to trust that somene won't walk away?
I think I'd have trouble with that level of trust.
I know I would test you--even when I wouldn't want to
I'd have to see if you're walking away.

I need to know what you're made of.

I worry that I'm unfit
To be a wife, a lover, a mother
It's so much easier to hide--
Hide until I don't have the energy
To fake it anymore.

And then?
Then we'll see what you're made of

One

My life is feeling full again.
Feeling manic and out of control,
Where do you go with a head this full?
So full it makes a girl dream.

I feel as though I'm being torn
Like silly putty being molded by hands without faces
Stretched, but not accomodated.

I feel full, all the time.
Overwhelmed by the beauty, the tragedy of life.
So full. So solidly full.

And I'd give anything to be anything else.
Because this is too much.

I'm making stupid choices again...
Impulsivity at its finest.
I wish I were empty
I wish I could once again
Be a vessel for the emptiness that burns

If I were empty, there'd be no dreams
I've done without them for four years,
I don't want them now.

I don't want to feel
Feel so alive, so alone. So full.

I've been practicing at living for so long
That I don't know how to do the real thing.

It's raining now, crying in the skies,
And I want to join the chorus,
Belt it out, knowing I'm only one.

There are two shades of blue:
When you're depressed, you're the night
When you're manic, you're turquoise

And me...I'm only one.

What Might Have Been

Black lace shadows my skin as we lay next to each other--
Two strangers who missed the other before we were known
Your hands find their way to the curve of my hip
You stroke and slide your warm fingers
I rock my hips, an unconscious movement
And though I loved you as you once loved me,
I fall asleep until I am one of a twin shadow curled in bed
Today, clothed in black lace again,
I remember the rock of my hips
And wonder what might have been

Because

Because I love you, the world is round
Like a bright pink ball
Because I love you, the world is flat
Like bread that never had a chance to rise

Because I love you, I write this poem
A poem telling of my love
Because I love you, I write this poem
A poem telling of your indifference

Because I love you, I love you anyway

Leaving

It's Saturday, 6 a.m., and I creep out of bed, trying not to disturb you
I can't wait to leave
I have nowhere else to be, and a two hour drive ahead of me

I'm still warm from your body heat though it's fading in the dawning light
And my clothes smell of the spiciness of your skin

But if I leave now, before you wake,
I won't have o say good-bye
And know it is forever.

Slowly Drowning

The baby's in the bathtub
And the water is rising
Where is Daddy?

Daddy, come back
Aren't I worth your attention?
Aren't I more important than the voices in your head?

Fighting, always fighting,
Until there's no light behind the eyes.

Real Love

I feel like I haven't seen you in several years even though the letters I write to you keep you in my thoughts
My sprawling language caresses the page as I can not caress you, yet my tongue shapes words meant for you
South Center Street is a state of mind when thoughts digress to images of your cat eyes, sleepy and wanting--but maybe that's just me
I will grow old and wrinkle without you, like the spin of a blender--going in aimless circles until the plug is pulled
But you, you do not spin your wheels, creating only mud--joyful but dirty
The sari she wears speaks of your devotion to a love that never existed for me
And Washington D.C. is too full of potential for a small town girl like me
But I'll write you my letters because it's the only way I can keep you--in a house down the lane from real love