Poet: Dropout, knot among the many cascading curls of my brainmatter— bipolar.
Stopped trying to get healed by doctors.   Stay low, go slow, laying out, cream blush.  Lemonade frozen like sorbet.

Crimson red beset
on body and brainmatter,
be it blood or ***.

grooves grip
the road and wet
                     fistfulls of brainmatter
schluffing-off
idiosyncrasies
like a culling of
outside voices
in
favor of
deadguys in sunglasses

ditch-skid kid
doing what he’s told and
following directions