That Blurry Splendor

Then I paste tomorrow to my mind
as a tapestry of Oz and Disneyland,
toss in some talking animals to soothe my fears,
before I dribble another seizure of dementia
where compulsion and extremes
are these two drinking buddies
who have all the fun
while I get their hangovers.

There is no normalcy in my thought closet,
just moments the door is kept closed
unto all the wild men living inside.
Meanwhile between the shivers and fright,
between the ghost who scream my flaws
from under my bed,
some how I still stroll towards the morning.

Above me floats the brain flotsam
of every mar and mistake
carefully blended with those blurry splendor sights
from the parts of my life that actually work.

On that tightrope of anxiety I balance my days,
aware it will never stop being a stress and strain,
only each step I take that moves ahead
gives me a small sense of victory.

Calm is the glance where the mirror is well lit,
upon it are features I’ve learned to not ignore
while looking for the few that shine a tad,
in them I hold their luster as my gold,
quietly polishing them mid all the darkness.

Somewhere through it all
finding the quiet contentment
from continuing to move,
even though I know at times I will fall.

When I stop excusing the bruises
and visualize the times I didn’t plummet
there is the simple joy of honesty.
That yields a capacity to keep going
without finger pointing or pretending
those wounds aren’t at times
self inflicted.