Apple Flavored Oranges

Hello one and all. I know, I know. You're thinking 'Jeez, this guy never fucking writes.' You'd be damn near right. I rarely do these days, and I am losing my own interest in my older shat. Meanwhile, being reminded of how shitty Bipolar Disorder is. I talk alot of garbage about being able to handle it, but only because it seems almost unreal when its not in your face. I had a manic burst about a week ago- spanned about a week at that- and I was afraid of when I came crashing. I have, and it fucking sucks. I forgot just how much it fucking sucks. I'm manic far more often, and while that is far from great I find it to be more manageable. Perhaps because I'm more accustom to it. I don't mind the irritability because I don't have to deal directly with it. The anger it causes isn't that bad because I'm used to anger. Anger was the center of my existence when I was younger. The fast-paced and irrelevant thinking processes are fine because my thoughts are usually pointless anyway, if I have more, but cycle through them faster I'm getting the better of the deal. The weird obsession with death is... weird. But, I'm used to that also.
Depression, on the other hand, fucking sucks. I'm sure some of the people reading this have experienced depression, maybe a few of you are even BP's. It is no fun, eh? I literally feel the urge not to exist, just to talk a break from the whole process of being. Not suicidal, mind you. I find that to be cowardly, and if there is anything in this world I refuse to be labeled, its a coward. I'd rather die a fool. Foolish, I know. I don't know why that is... ask my subconscious.
Anyway, I could write for ages.... but really... I don't fucking want to. This piece is new. Unedited. No desire to edit it. Read it damnit.

Written Nonsense

Listlessly listening to the sounds of my breathing
Watching the pens shadow dancing on the wall...
I want a cigarette.
I want a vacation from reality
but I can't afford my dreams
-the sleep would be the end of me.
So, instead I sit and wonder
'My soul will return one day, won't it?'
If not, I haven't much use for this husk - want it?
All the world is grey and slowly fading
My meters a muddled mess
and I nothing more than a dog who
howls like a wolf.
Oh how I want nothing more than a vacation from reality
but I can't afford my dreams
-the sleep would be the end of me.