zen, and the art of self sabotage

is the moment
when the mania
calms and
before the
depression swells

where the
mask slips
and the world
is a sublime
watercolored dream

the peaks and
valleys even out
emotions trickle
rather than
constantly pummeling
me into submission

i exhale love
between gasps
a lightning rod
firmly planted
in a bipolar storm

a ragged old monk
weaving mania and
depressions into
a tapestry of life
while maintaining a
vow of insignificance

practicing zen and
the art of self sabotage
in equal acts of
nurturing destruction
smiling happily
as the world burns


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