The Rat Race

The run up to Christmas always feels like a huge race to the finish line where I'm let down and exhausted and reminds me so much how it feels when I hyper manic. The continual racing thoughts, the need to do things, the need to keep moving to achieve things, my inability to remember what has happened and my lack of worry about everything and anything to the eventual crash into depression.  A rat race of frustrated rushing around without getting anywhere that seems to be fuelled by everyone and everything and yet no one and ends in the same way as if it is inevitable.

The rat race

Always moving on faster faster,

my head a jumble of the present and what’s next

a list of never ending proportions it  grows by the second

so much to do and times a wasting

My mind’s a racing, the next task, the next word,

what has been is lost , the incomplete abandoned to the past,

too much going on to remember, I run and run trying to keep up,

no time to sleep, to rest, to even breath

so much to do I cannot stop

The failures wrack up, the rudeness increases

too tired to keep going,  too spent to continue

the mind it races still, faster, faster

ever faster, pushing me forward, driving me on

‘til finally  no more, the mind it crashes and everything stops.