it always comes back

what is this life

this bipolar life

it’s like fish skin on the floor of the fine dining restaurant

how can this ugliness exist in it

how can this exist side by side

in these beautiful creatures

next to these spectacular masterpieces

over cooked broccoli

chocolate mousse

a life of extremes

a life with no real in betweens



up down

and always always always


in that passenger seat

ready ready ready

to take the wheel


it just always

has the wheel

do we ever have the wheel?

why is it so elusive

this baselines thing

that goes on forever

my baseline is all over the place

and that is fine

it is manageable

sometimes i feel exhausted by the minor ups and downs all of the time

but sometimes i worry that i wouldn’t recognize my life or my self without them

i worry that i would miss them

in a way

but i know that my normal consists of




it is all i’ve ever known

it will probably be all i ever know

up high quick creative bubbly assured

down low dragging sighing insecure

i love the world

i hate the world

i love everything

everything is stupid

i’m amazing

no one cares about me

i could do all of these amazing things

i can’t even stand

the bipolar life

and as i write this word press keeps telling me over and over that the saving of the draft failed

and it seems fitting

because that is part of the low


fail fail



what has to happen to normies for them to experience the emptiness we feel

the heartbreak

the lonely terror

the pain

i don’t want to know

i don’t want to talk about it

because it must be bad

it must be sad

it must be horrible

and i don’t want anyone to go through it

whether it is because something happens in life

or because you’re brain is fucked up different

i don’t want anyone to feel it

but i know that most of you are probably feeling it now or have felt in in the past couple of days or weeks or months or years (lucky bitches)

the sucker punch

the bipolar sucker punch

we brave up

we stand up

we fight for it

for life

for breath

for just being


and we resolve to fight it

to beat it?


and we roll along in sundresses and wine spritzers and picnics

and trees blowing in the wind and sunshine shadows on driveways

and wafting laughter

and stars shining down

and we feel that elusive


and then somewhere in between the laundry folding and the dead grass we start to feel high or low or whatever

and then


the bipolar sucker punch

and all of a sudden



the kind of emptiness that aches

the kind of emptiness that makes no sense

and we reach and cling and try to make it go away


and again

it comes again

and we fight through it


sit with it again

and eventually

it goes


it comes back

it always comes back


Add Yours
  1. hubby1974

    Hi Caper, I’m glad your blogging break was short (?2 weeks). Missed you.
    I ALWAYS enjoy your poetic style of writing. So easy to read, especially at 0222 in morning when I can’t sleep.
    Actually, all the recent poetry I’ve been reading has drilled open a reservoir of hidden poetry in me AND my wife. Let us know what you think.

    Liked by 1 person

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