Split

I live a double life
that no one would believe
existing on a knife
which logic says must cleave
the wispy thread of sanity
that tethers my humanity—

it’s difficult for one
to bear the weight of two
and no, it isn’t fun
but still I try to do
my best despite delirium
to foster equilibrium.

Scrap

As summer starts to swiftly leave
beyond all hope of spring’s reprieve
an autumn shudder lends a hint
of winter’s unforgiving stint—

auspicious omens can’t predict
what deviation will be picked
to flourish for another blink
while former failures face the brink.

The epochs come then glumly go,
stagnation tends to settle slow,
the seasons change, but just in name
the struggle always stays the same.

Zoning

The spiral down is quicker
with a shot or two of liquor
and things won’t seem so rough
once you’ve had a little puff—

don’t wallow in confusion
just accept the big illusion
and if you’ve had your fill
take another happy pill.