bIpoLAr

A vortex of negative energy wraps my mind in steel wool
I’m naught but a tool,
a manipulated fool, a pawn in somebody’s cruel game
nameless, blameless, I’m in extreme duress
the stress vapors invade my nostrils 
tendrils of despair consume me
Will I succumb?
Am I dumb and hopeless?
I feel weak, I will give up.
I’m ill, my withered spirit is killing me
The light is dimming, my hope thinning
Tick tock the minutes ending
My will to live bending.
Heart wrenching.
Nothing could be worse
Than death-verse unrehearsed like this.

My only wish is to get high on something silly; stupid

Like a jingle, of Chris-Pringle singing sweetly
On every single word that mingles with the cheery mood I’ve had lately.
Fooled you good. 
Ha ha, I’m not really depressed,
I’m a rocket, exotic, 
can do everything like pulling rabbits from my pocket.
And getting jiggy like a piggy in the market
I’m the king
I can do anything.
I’m a little manic,
But don’t panic, it’s cyclothymic 
Biorhythmic 
My medication sometimes permits it.

Ups and downs, like a coaster roller,
It gets worse/better as I grow older
The bitter-sweet bifurcation of being bipolar.