On Being Bipolar.

I’m your instant coffee child.

Black and mild

Feel me hunger

Feel me wild

 

Margarine ripped from the apple core

Smathers the toast face down on the floor.

Please tell me mister

Have you the score?

I’ve lost track and

I can’t breathe anymore.

 

My blood grows cold

I’ve been bought and sold

As dead as a doornail left melting on the stove

If this is Eden perhaps it has froze

I’ve cut all my fingers while holding this rose.

 

I’m your instant coffee child.

Black and mild

Feel me hunger

Feel me wild

 

Tinker toy slave drivers are rubbing me raw

Delegating monsters with slack hinged jaws

Lead me to freedom

And carpet the walls

At least when I hit them I won’t bruise any of these balls.

For I’m insane to you

There’s nothing I can do

To change your mind

I’m the watermelon rind

That no one wants

That no one wants.

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