 OLANZAPINE
My stomach is spilling over Instead of my mind for once. My head is no longer a circus, A tent of sad clowns and unruly animals. Uni-cycling on a tightrope Between intelligence and insanity Has never been so balanced. OVERANALYSIS I will turn the ellipses At the ends of cryptic sentences Into my own apocalyptic lollipops… I will suck on them Until my tongue is raw, Lips chapped and wet, Devour words and punctuation Until I reach their centers: Empty. No Tootsie Roll. No bubblegum. Armageddon, All for nothing. HYPOMANIA I want to pick up a skyscraper Put it in my pocket Carry it around All day long, Cement it in another city. I want to breathe in a billion-acre meadow, Fill my lungs with Blades of grass, and 10-foot sunflowers, and Exhale a thunderstorm. I want to touch the skin Of all my lovers, all at once, Light my fingertips like candles, Drip my unrequited love Over the beads of our sweat. I want to scream at the sky, Throw fistfuls of rocks at God, Thank gravity for keeping me stuck Weeping on an imploding planet, Show gratitude for time ending. I want to swim oceans in my bathtub, Shower in the waterfalls Of my hyperactivity, and Electrify myself With a toaster. I want my words to be more than ink, I want their weight to be heavier Than my head, Than a black hole. I want them to unhinge Like the jaw of a snake engulfs A white mouse of surrender. I want someone to understand the sickening lurch As the roller-coaster moves 90 degrees upward, and My stomach leaps from my throat. VOID I never understood true emptiness Until I looked into the dark void of your eyes as you said, “I don’t like poetry.” For more poems from VernacularAcrobat visit: vernacularacrobat.com
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