Bipoler , Seat Belts - Poem by DAVID GERARDINO
ONCE again im walking into a storm,
we have our coats on, and in our
empty dirty hands, tiny white pills.
ONCE again i craw into this bathroom,
and find stink, and a shadow with a
smile, or a saint with a knife.
MY eyes, abandone this light,
my body, snaps to attention,
my mind, waltzes into this bipoler
mode, and just like that, , i fly.
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