first nature is love
second, sabotage
I've been trying to rewire for years now
I think there was a time I was after it
the drama
somewhere in my early teens
where television glamorized
depression
somewhere between Prozac Nation and Bipolar disorder as A Brilliant Madness
but all the way back into early childhood
there I stood
slamming tiny fists against the keys of a piano
thinking the dissonance was somewhat melodic
the clashing
the minor keys
the Baptist's damning's to hell
was this child's dream come true
the drama
from the very beginning
made my world spin
and now
that I am older
do I seek peace and serenity
a plausible faith
an exit
from the incessant spiral that drama led me down
dressed in scarlet-mouthed poetry
lusty, dark paintings
baths with the lights off, a joint between my finger tips
journal off to the side
Sylvia Plath would have high-fived me if she were still alive
some days I thought if I developed an addiction
wouldn't that justify the internal chaos I felt
and of course I tried
because at the time
it was all so cold and blurred
that I couldn't bear to come to terms with the constant stab of grey, ache of black
the existential reads on the steps of a law firm
paired with my glimmer of hope as a small bird landed within the enormity of an oak tree
Camus' eloquence in talk of suicide
the absurdity
the questioning
the slowness of the clouds moving through the endless sky...