don’t tell me what to do or how to live.
I am totally and permanently disabled with bipolar disorder.
The rules do not apply.
I can either write no poems or cannot stop, sometimes.
I can either not stay awake or not get to sleep, sometimes.
Staying up all night is the worst thing I can do,
Except I do it all the time,
which explains a lot.
Let your passions roll the dinkum genius writes, as though he knows
what it is like to have to words coming faster than I can type,
and each one my GENIUS brain approves as brilliant, apt, not to be missed.
The waiting world would will be so lucky to read this!
Choices – do I take my medication and risk falling asleep,
not take my medication and risk falling off the edge of the world.
Perhaps I can check my archives for a message from myself when I enlisted in this turkey shoot. I must have had some idea of how to proceed, unless I was in De Nile, which is not a river in the desert since it spreads its now polluted fertility along its banks….
Polluted fertility. That’s a good image for my brain.
Welcome to my world, my friends and frienders and friendees.
I don’t bite, scratch. Or do harm,
but I might hop up on you and lick your face.