. // THE INSOMNIAC'S CALENDAR. )

[sinensys]

the clothes, they glimmer,
their silken nature smooth ---
the gentle swish i find
a comfortable presence
i wish would
appear before me
more.
but as comfortable
as the long sleeves
glide,
my steps are clunky
and unsteady ---
i've never worn
these shoes before,
i don't know
how to dance in them.

[sinensys]

swift and strung
up
the lofty breeze
flows
--- and with it comes
that delightful
flourish
as i wade through the
pool.
the lily pads
part
and the water skirts
around
my slowed but steady
steps.
the wake i leave
behind,
once turbulent and
distraught,
now settles into the
calm,
poised to begin once more
anew.
my love for all that i
do
resurfaces in my
heart
and reminds me that i
love
which i have turned my gaze
unto.

[sinensys]

that wicked chimera,
wrought of molten silk,
shrouds itself in wraps of
gold
--- and with it, i, too,
am smothered in silk.

that wicked chimera,
so cunning and clever,
lays heavy and limp,
immobilized
--- and with it, i, too,
collapse in exhaustion.

that wicked chimera,
the bipolar beast,
flips switches and currents
with ease
--- and with it, i, too,
am churned by riptides.

(how dizzying it is
to trace a sinusoidal path)

[sinensys]

the birch forest brain fog beckons,
the lenticels lying in wait,
and my subdued self sinks into the bog.
the ambient clicks and croaks drown out
any shred of motivation or reason,
and so i am left aimless and powerless,
a skulking mass that loiters in the mist.

[sinensys]

even still today
i find myself visiting
the racehorse's
academic grave.
despite laying that
downtrodden mask
to rest,
i often find myself
caught in a delusion,
believing a cow to be
my beloved racehorse.
my ambling form will
no longer rip through
exams and homework
as i once did with ease.

(how my pride aches.)

[sinensys]

another week has passed,
and the leaden ache
of the la brean grasp
continues to hold me
beneath the waves.
coaxing the upswing,
scattered or focused,
to come up for air
has been a fruitless
endeavor.
the blackened iron fist
refuses to grant me
refuge or respite
from the darkened depths.
and so i reach upwards,
desperate for the shoreline
--- but the tar restrains me.
and so there i am,
a skulking mass
left to sink alone,
for asking for help or sharing
becomes a pity party thrown
just for me.

[sinensys]

and yet
i am not so
blind
to my cyclical nature
as i worried
i have been.
in truth it has
always been
known,
i just have never
attributed it
to the correct source,
mistaking fate for
foolish choices.

and so now
i know
fortune can be
attained,
even if occasionally
the tides pull it
just beyond
my reach.
soon the hourglass will
flip,
and so, too,
will the resultant
tidal forces,
and, by proxy,
fortune will float
loftily towards me.

(all i must do is keep
my gaze cast
out
to the horizon
instead of
downwards)

[sinensys]

how strange it is
to find
that many of the things
which i had
blamed
myself for
had not truly been
my own foolish choices.
to be told that
not all things were
my fault
is a bizarre experience
i do not know how to
approach.

the prismatic boa unwinds,
leaving behind bones,
an archaeological dig site
for me to uncover
traces
of my very self
within.

[sinensys]

the rattling rhythm
of my own
ragged breath
does not satiate
the rumbling in my
chest.

(how i ache
for that which
i do not yet know.)

[sinensys]

the gentle winds'
swaying murmur
leaves me in a soothing
lurch
as i teeter on the edge
of the dual precipice.

before me the depths
beckon and point to
the exhilarating rush
of hypomania
and all its
facetious facets.

behind me the depths
creep up and reach,
relentlessly eager to
weigh me down with
distilled and purified
exhaustion.

i do not know
where i stand
now,
here on this tightrope,
but i do not think this is
a normal state.
but it also does not feel
rigidly
like hypomania anymore
or depression again yet
--- am i simply in a
transitional state
before the
high
baton passes to the
low
again?