i don’t know
when it was exactly
i stopped celebrating
everything

when the delusion
ran in milky tears
down scarred cheeks
and i embraced
none of it meaning
anything

the only good thing
about a holiday
is the day off work
and if they fall
on a weekend
they can fuck right off

downside of the cycle
where being numb
grates into anxiety
because nothing gets
accomplished
if nothing fucking
matters

probably been a bit
since the last time
lady depression
swept me in her
tepid embrace
for an extended period
i prefer rapid cycling
even if i am
offbalance too often
over these extended
episodes in regression

i know this will pass
the only certainty
in bipolarity
is nothing stays the same
even when you wish
maybe it could

which is why i stopped
celebrating everything
because it was either
nihilism with brief
moments of childlike wonder
or suicide
one is an experiment
the other
simply a dream