It’s the paranoia,
that my oral observation
will be taken
as degredation.
But I only want to explain
what I’ve seen
and where I’ve been.
It’s the confusion,
that they may think me
obscene.
It’s non-stop thinking,
a hundred miles an hour,
so I look deep into ink
and find some power.
The depression is dark,
like death.
The mania reborn
and taking first breath.