Graceful lines and symmetry
but beneath it all you cannot see
the chaos held together with spit and prayers
and a cocktail of modern medicine’s
latest poison.
My dance is a side effect
that just happens to be graceful
my song
a disembodied pantomine
that passes for social interaction.
I don’t pretend to be like you
but I’m trying
and on my best days I stretch and preen
and the sun hits my feathers in just the right way
and almost
in the right light I resemble who I really am without
bipolar.
Left of Nowhere 