The Malignant Infection

Inventing the sickness
while convincing others
until they convince
one another,
they beliieve your fall
under the illness,
the guise under which
you couldn't be fulfilled less.
You stand in the corner
preaching your sadness,
a sick game in which you sickly
find superior gladness.
Soon enough they all
fawn over your soul,
you poor little thing,
you hideous little troll.
The game you play
is safe enough
until the fantasy becomes real
as it becomes too rough
and the last tear for you
is finally shed
only by your own eye
on your own deathbed.

Return to Normalcy

A return to normalcy,
the highs no more
and the lack of lows
what I adore,
the even keel,
the comeback to
the simpler times,
what I once knew,
the hills flattened
and excitement gone
from the ecstasy
that couldn't last long,
the depression downed,
a limiting of sadness,
the limiting to bring
an unlimited gladness,
the special days once
controlling every second
now in a rear view
making no mess of it,
the balancing act,
the tight rope trick
ready for me to
complete and stick
and welcomed with
open and hospitable arms
ready for the bland
and most boring of no charms.