My bipolar extremes had become somewhat predictable, but now . . .
By the arrival of the summer solstice,
I'm always in manic mode: shopping, extremes,
Run over by life, fully acting out dreams.
Hallucinations aren't the only things I've seen.
In a world grown callous, and cold, grown old,
Beating suicidal odds with every breath,
Drawn so bold.
It's hard to explain when you, yourself,
Have not known life outside the boxing ring,
Paddled, useless thing.
There are no tracks, no belt,
On my roller coaster.
No ride the same, unexpected twists expected,
People, stress, medications,
Winter fogs lifts, finding me chained in rock
Dungeon, believing no longer in Prince Charming,
Camelot, ethics, the dignity of sentients in war.
Where is my summer fervor, that zest for life
Keeping me awake too long at a time, too busy,
My brain racing through reality at warp, dizzy.
No comfort in my bed when I lay my insomiac head
Against the vengeful pillow, nightmare engorged.
Awaking, breaking my heart in half-sense sobs, tears galore.
Time is wrong, on some other than regular speed.
Not feeling the need to eat, check mail boxes,
A "when did I take a bath," physically beat.
God, please change the sun, or please change me.
Like Huey Lewis said, "I want a new drug . . ."
To help me do this thing called poor productive society.
Author's note: Seasonal Affective Depression, also known as SAD, results from sensitive individuals receiving less sunlight during the winter months. This causes certain chemical changes in the individual which affect mood, often causing depression during the time between December 21 and June 21, when the North American continent receives less directly intense sun rays. More info on this subject is available at www.About.Com