The Mania SpeaksYou clumsy bootlegger. Little daffodil.I watered you with an ocean and you plucked one little vein?Downed a couple bottles of pills and got yourself carted off to the ER? I gifted you the will of gunpowder, a matchstick tongue, and all you managed was a shredded sweater and a police warning? You should be legend by now.Girl in an orange jumpsuit, a headline.I built you from the purest napalm, fed you wine and bourbon.Preened you in the dark, hammered lullabies into your thin skull.I painted over the walls, wrote the poems. I shook your goddamn boots. Now you want out? Think you’ll wrestle me out of you with prescriptions?A good man’s good love and some breathing exercises? You think I can’t tame that? I always come home. Always. Ravenous. Loaded. You know better than anybody: I’m bigger than God.
Jeanann Verlee, Said the Manic to the Muse
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