Suicide Bets…

The manic times are the best,
You feel entitled to success,
Full of ideas,
Full of energy,
Laughter,
Fun,
Untouchable,
Witty,
Sometimes even pretty.
Then boom,
I hear a clap of thunder,
I see the lightning is very close,
It’s heading towards me,
Before I have time to even think,
I’m catapulted to the other border of the spectrum,
Down,
Suicidal depression.
I am weak,
All I do is sleep,
Exhausted from silencing the plan,
My thoughts are intrusive,
Actions inconclusive,
All alone,
Fearful of pushing people away,
Tight lipped,
I’m fighting,
But it could go either way.

Silence Please!

Today,
Silence is my pacifier.
The world is terribly loud,
All encompassing and overloading,
Over stimulating and overbearing,
I hereby declare that I press mute!
Not even the crisp air shall interfere,
I shall block it all out,
The hustle and bustle of buzzing busy bodied bee’s,
The psychosis of He and She,
No sound shall wrap its claws around me.
Today I will be sound free and basque in silent glory.

Low…

They say,
“Here today,
Gone tomorrow”.
One should feel relieved,
To rise,
When it be ‘morrow!
Yet with every new day,
For me,
My heavy heart,
Pangs with disappointment,
And wrenching sorrow,
The cycle never ends,
Nor does it thaw out,
Become hollow,
The lacerations are internal,
The exterior,
Just a front,
A show,
A cover Up,
For just how low,
I get,
And go.