Art by: https://www.instagram.com/kamila.lenarcik/

Before the madness came I hid softly in hues of pink.
Before the madness came wrestling was only done with paper cuts and caviler journals.
Words made sense.
Because sense was a sense.
Out, in, towards
-a trajectory of hope and pink balloons.
A cup of tea to live in.
A balm of a mind at ease.

During the mania; the sharp pangs of joy- bolts of energy cascaded over my body like a somersault.
A drunk gymnast who had the muscle memory but not the state to make a seesaw stalemate.
No balance. Just the fall.

During the hyperness; the egg yolk of the sun was tangible.
A sunset could be consumed by a spoon.
Orange, pink and blue.
How could you?

During the psychosis; syntax became remedied through meaning

A discombobulated, all-encompassing thought was swallowed

Kept close, though pouring out- viewed as gospel

The confusion was a pulpy piece of blue blood

Oxidized, but halted for it's unrecognizable pigment.

A sharp bullet of misconstrued ideas, 

A blind man who lives in absolutes.

Vacancy.

Brain's on holiday, facilities in my mind

Floating away..

After! After! I said After the madness --

A new trajectory.
Black and Pink balloons, together
Black coffee to itch my penniless thoughts for another million dollar ticket.

Another extremity to be consumed by

Another one,

Waiting in shrill, murmuring, splinters 

Only the sea shell could hear

Black like charcoal, ill equipped to make sense of it.

Air stolen from my belly only to bestow a weightless fury in a plastic jail

A Black Balloon.

But still: Before it all--

A cup of tea to live in.
A balm of a mind at ease.
A pin close by and glistening.

When I looked back

When I looked within

When I looked towards

I always heard a Pop!

LC