winter

I return the stranded oysters back to the sea,
letters once capital lose their case sensitivity;
the darkness,
it's closing in,
and unlike the seasons,
there's no telling when the warmth will return.

1/12

I think I'll drink alone tonight,
Forget who I am and remember all the same...
I might not return in the colors you once painted me,
I might not shiver in the cold even though it's there.

Mania

I painted my nails red because it's the color of passion and alarm,
Am I okay?
Sorry I laughed at everything so loudly,
I know now that might have seemed bizarre,
Though those same scenes still having such an impact is beautiful to me.

It's hard to find the good in what others consider insanity,
but my exaggerations,
full or empty, light or dark, abstract or so persistently real,
reveal my true nature.

Sometimes it hurts to be self aware,
Seeing a rise and fall from grace,
sitting afar while my hair is still being whisked away by the wind,
offering only an ironic sense of control, or lack thereof...

In 5th grade I did my homework right before I left for school without having read any of the passages,
I terribly sketched a rollercoaster I called emotional thinking it might barely suffice,
but the teacher praised it and passed it around the class as a shining example;
I think that's life.