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Writer's pictureDes Art

Bipolar Places

I have corners in my mind

Not even I can find.

They latch to me,

Drag me down,

They chew me up and

Vomit me out.

Leaving my mind a tarnished depleted, ruined mess.


At other places,

Where my thoughts take shape,

They burn bright enough to take

Away tears, simply evaporate.

Giddy, glee, and energy consume me.


In certain spots, you'll find

The arctic lake inside.

Vast, almost un-ending,

I go there if

my depression is collapsing.

To be cold, still, and numb.

Feelings burning out my lungs,

No oxygen or sun.


There's a hut in the mountains,

Past the density of trees.

There I work

in a whirlwind of spirit.

Testing the limits of what the world could be,

Basking in the sunlight,

Playing with the bees,

Compulsively running through

Piles of big leaves.


But I've also gotten lost

in my forests, of messy overgrowth.

Wandering through the woods for weeks,

Not saying a single peep.

I walk slowly there,

As the weight to bear

the solitude and solve consumes me.

I'm certain predators lie there.


I've danced on the sun in my mind,

Skipping through flames,

Laughing as the fire

burns through my veins.

Willing chaos, willing pain.

Burn the things I love and hold,

To diminish them from me.


I'm sorry that I'll get lost,

In places you can't find me.

These aren't on a map,

But way in the back

Behind my memories

And mundane reality ties.

Cause there no one can see,

I can simply be.

Without having to worry

If there's reason or rhyme,

To keep me in time,

To the cruel world were in.


dh 06.25.23


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