The Bipolar Compass

You fight the demons of the mind, the demons of the flesh

Daily, every morning, you wake up in a nightmare… burning, jagged, screaming, hellish thoughts

Daily, every morning, you take a deep breath, gulp in air

You douse the flames with the sweet spring water of your tears, you smooth the sharp edges of boulders with emery boards, your thudding heart drowns out the cacophony of fear

You ask the earth to go back into the path it orbited last night, you ask the world for some peace and quiet, just a tiny bit from its stores, do they still exist?

Every day, this is how it is, everyday, the nightmares seem more real than my comforter, my sheets, which I want to engulf me and hide and be nevermore

By the time the afternoon comes, the wraiths, the ghosts, the demons have evaporated

I am allowed half a normal day…