Always kind of teetering on the bipolar 

Just little pieces
Of poems
Scattered on the floor
. . . forgotten
another symbol of
promises I wouldnt keep.
And the time 
that they say flies
Seems to stand still
Like a tension
So thick it's tangible
An effervescent 
Memory of me
That wags her 
dissappointed finger
At the stale mate
That surrounds me
Reminds me
That this can't go on forever
Who was I, if not always
That girl at 19
Dreaming about life
. . . And you
The infallible promise
Of the charmed existence
And the bullshit
Semantics
They flutter around me
Butterflies on fire.
It's not the kind if thing
You want to capture
The fire will
Most assuredly
Extinguish once suffocated
And isn't that really
The fucked up truth
Behind the intellect
And philosophies
My sparkle
Requires a small amount
Of conflict
And amorous turmoil
It will start to fade otherwise
The poems will become
Just shredded pieces
Scattered on the floor
Which lack the tragedy
Necessary to emit passion
I'm more translucent 
Than I think I am
I know
A little bit sexy 
A little bit crazy
Always kind of 
Teetering on the bipolar

08.05.10