the back & forth.

there’s two of them, inside my head, but that’s great — before i only thought there was one. but i can see clearly — the only way hypomania will let me, of course — that there’s two.

the louder one is the worst. even when it whispers it’s as if it’s standing thisclose to the microphone; so it’s all i hear. and i know it lies, it’s wrong all the time & it’s always full of excuses (just like me). this is the one that comes alive most often, the one i’ve been sharing an apartment with for the last year & a half. Continue reading


a life less lived.

i fell in love with a boy i thought was my whole world
but i was wrong;

he was my whole universe.


you had the ability
to make the time stand still,
but i’m a little stumbly so

i got stuck in between the lines:

so swallowed by regret
everything reminds me of what could’ve been.
i’m collecting stories of
things i never did,
buying bookshelves to display pictures of places
i’ve never been,
& ones i don’t remember.

the girl in the photos is a stranger,
but she kinda looks like me.

feel like i’m missing
something once forgot
but i fear
it’s already gone,
so instead i block it out;

the girl in the mirror i’ve never seen,

but she used to look like me.

add or activate.

if you could flip the mania on like a switch:
florescent daylight before 5am,
scrubbed-clean-white-sterile —
a little unfocused but steady &
feeling like skipping lettrs.

flip on all the words to make sense —
clarity sears like hot sparks
burning in,

leaving their mark.

briefly it is all too much;
& much too wonderful.

i need to save it, to keep it
in imaginary strands.

i am desperate for an empty page
to spill the racing mind
but even my hands are stunned;
twelve sentences for every.. disjointed one i write —
here then gone in the same second,

like a hummingbird at the glass.

in my minds eye i grab on, both fists,
wrapping my arms up in understanding & form
typing useless lettrs in an effort to never forget

the things that have suddenly started making sense

once misinterpreted but now without blame
insight exists in stunning form: glittering & gold.

almost as if a test:
to know this, & believe it for a suspicious second
even knowing in a moment i’ll be back to before
where the lessons sound chalky
& just fall flat,

pushed away with a single utterance of bullshit
whispered, quiet, under the breath.

& that’s all it takes;

tendrils of truth drip off my arms &
almost as if imagined,
they ceased to exist;
& suddenly i am here again:
the reality that stings,
the thing that runslikethis & nevershutsup.


all my sense of self in separate bags,

floating off on balloons & strings.
i don’t have enough hands, or fingers that don’t slip,
so i am kinda screwed,
but it hurts too much to care.


why is it that
the only time my mind is clear
is when my body’s blurry.

funerals for the dream.

fearful of what i feel i am
pushing away
thinking about what i still have left to lose;
even in despair i feel
luckier than i deserve.

how long until these things go away
until the support that i resist to take
fades like wilted petals
accidentally plucked;

i feel accidentally fallen,
potential forgotten;

never enough.

last night mourning
brief glimmer of reality was too much to stand
broken-knee’d & bleeding
surrounded by pieces of my
broken self.

the ghost of me
haunts my mind like movie scripts;
my thoughts stain white carpet & grey walls &
won’t wash off.

time drops off the calender
i watch it skirt past my windows
i watch it crease & line my skin
& i wonder if i’m already gone;

settling into old shadows
swallowing defeat stings my mouth
so empty soul’d it catches in my throat
& can never escape.

stuck between the seasons of when & never.

the obstacles they are coming
they are stacking up
like unfinished books;
no time to spare.

the obstacles are becoming
too much to bare
unrelenting i am
losing my step.

the obstacles are rerunning
tight static loops with sparks of something better
but only just for a minute
i’m unblinking but still
missing it.

the obstacles are overcoming
i shake before i shatter & i become undone, i
turn to crumble to be torn away
ripped up like paper confetti,
scattered like ashes;
i glitter on the surf.

i go
in pieces
to all the places i couldn’t have been
to all the places i’ve turned in
too untogether to manage —

caught in between the layers
of dawn & dusk i am
collecting in corners
of unwashed windows,
waiting for the breeze & when the water comes
i am swept out to sea


this time

i go

to the pieces that are afraid

i remember screaming
overwhelmed by how incredible
i encountered life;

tears welling because my body couldn’t contain
all the beauty my eyes were taking in.

slap-stuck diagnosis, bipolar
because i range the full spectrum:
soaring —

sinking —
& getting stuck.

asked the other day
would i give it up?
would i change my world if i had the chance?

don’t need to think of my answer, i know it,
because maybe i’m not bipolar, because bipolar is just a word
& i’m just me.