On My Brief and Last Manic Episode

It was only this past week.
I had dreams
about Maria again,
and Cat spoke to me through
some diabolical means.
You would only
believe the dreams
if you knew me
(and because they are merely dreams).
I was going to find 
two witnesses
to stand before me,
(Revelation 11 style)
impregnate a woman
(chapter thirteen, for the interested reader) 
I hadn’t seen
in nearly twenty years.
We would name our Son
Joshua. 
Thank God that I’m older now.
Thank him that my knees can’t 
handle training to be God on earth,
like I’m Batman on some unheard of steroids. 

I had to go to work in this frame of mind,
and, when I was
putting away a bag of chips
on a shelf, 
I thought,
“something is amiss.” 
So I buried my tears 
in the hr’s office,
who had a bipolar brother,
and was endowed with natural empathy anyway. 
Today I got through the Damoclean downswing.
slept all day and spent some time
with my daughter tonight.
Right now I listen to Richter and experiment.
It sounds like Bukowski to me,
only not as clever or cool or polished.
But that’s Bukowski’s voice coming at me, 
being critical of someone not Bukowski.
Cat is the girl I keep writing about on this page.
Found out through Twiter
she was a Satanist. Maybe that
was part 
of the mania’s onset. 
Anyway, maybe she’ll meet Chuck one day. 
She can tell him (through our ESP)
that I was fond of them both.

Copyright © John Byrd | Year Posted 2016

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