With What Words

I know not where

This yearning was born,

For I am but a mortal

From a lowly place.

I know not when

This passion was formed,

For at first it was.

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Loon Drawing

I sit alone in my dark room

Speak to no one ‘cept the loon

And in this lonely state of mine

I have nothing, save my mind.

I sit here waiting, pass the day

See only shadows rise then fall.

I think of nothing, only stare

For what’s the point if no one’s there.

This I Believe

This I believe…

That insanity is relative…

And that art and genius are only recognized as such when society designates them so.

For a long time I struggled with issues of sanity and insanity. I felt so taken back when I was told that I was manic-depressive. That it would stay with me forever and that I could manage it with medications and therapy. Continue reading