a manic’s playground is my mind
entrapped within a jungle gym of ludicrous joy
buried deep within the soiled sands of plunging sorrow
an unbalanced act atop the high top
the too quick and slick descent of my sanity upon the slide
the cloying sweet-rancid smell of the tire swing
as i hold tight
sickened-spinning-dizzy from deciphering what’s real what’s not
When there are Manic days
where hope when not cried for
tinting lightly on the blushing horizon
Reminisce back to those heavenly times:
sweet stretches of blissful sighs.
Remember those moments
those cheery, dazey, redolently, dreamy days.
Wait…what is that?