difficult to concentrate, hard to explain.

Taking everything personal, it’s always my fault,

peppering my responses with a good dose of salt.

Again and again, again and again,

it’s easy to see I’m going insane.

Unhinged depressive dark thoughts,

amid shifting sands we all have our faults,

with time squandered and lessons taught,

why must I repeat myself over and over again,

I need something to ease the pain,

Something to stop the assault.

I’m so at odds with my bi-polar mind

tightly wound coil about to unwind,

stopped in my tracks, called to a halt

loot plundered from inside the vault.

Rain’s falling across the dry plain,

a vulture circles with a few cohorts,

and there’s many miles to gas and the pain

in your stomach, tasting sweat and salt.