Monday, July 10, 2006
I am your manic-depressive
Like overflown water
on cold iron sheets,
I am noise at 6:43 in the morning
Rising to the occasion of a dimmed sunset
staled by clouds from the global richness
of a world gone sour.
I am your manic-depressive.
Today, the leaves aren't so red,
nor are they so green to give me hope.
They are flimsy as toilet paper, the kind that renders
a smile, the kind you flush into the blueness
with a 20 peso bathroom ticket in
shiny hedonistic mall, a pearl in a black ocean.
I am your manic-depressive.
Television speaks like a miraculous idol
hypnotizing me into a mental relapse,
my subconscious hanging on to the words of a friend
five miles away, calling me out of a lightless demise and
Swoosh! I fly out of this liquid schizophrenia
beamed up by the news from a national hysteria
I am your manic-depressive.
Coffee or tea or milk or hot choco?
Cream shall suffice for the poverty stricken loco
Make my eyes shimmer from the steam of it all
and let them bleed salted water.
Let it flow, and dance and move in my face
and fall into the unknown fabrics of my skin
I am your manic-depressive.
Bare as a visceral shout from the gut,
out of fortune, out of the third world,
careening through, breaking the glass
in this emergency, this upheaval
from an existential dictatorship, I am free
and I realize confinement, I realize mercy.
I am your manic-depressive.
I am your sadness, my dear, dear friends,
and I am your stock of joy.
I come and I go, sometimes with two faces,
one that throws your head back
and one that throws it on the floor.
I am your wonder bra, and your stained sheets.
I am your manic-depressive.
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http://readruss.blogspot.com
Posted by inktrip at 6:27 AM