Cursing the sky!

No senses forth
and all senses backwards
we wander and wonder
if the best is gone, past:
She, shiny metal robot doll
is another figment
of my imaginative creation;
the process of manifestation
that made her be
is a temporary trap
which lead me back here
where I am, in fact, quite anew.
Shit.
Fuck.
Goddamn.
Another depression: I’m calling it.
Mania has passed and the walls
are covered with paint
while I wait,
drugless,
and trying to stay fit,
but everything changed
since I posted “Get Megastar.”
Geez,
Tom Cruise kitten
and no manifesting friends
because it’s over: university.
It’s begun:
Searching for… ummm….
something
as long as I’m not
mental.
I bury head in sands
tan sands
and marine walls
that are empty.
Crying, “come back, come back!”
To no avail:
way to cut and run
Will I learn lessons this time?
Or get used over and again.
Wind me up, watch me dance.
Put a penny in my slot
and take a chance.